Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hugh can hear shouting. He can’t quite make out the words, but he recognizes Tracy’s cold, sharp tone, and there is a fleeting moment of pity for whoever she’s chewing out. But if she’s making a commotion, something must be wrong.

He tiredly lifts his aching head and blinks heavily, “Tracy’s upset; what’s wrong?”

The arm around his shoulders tightens, pining Hugh in place, which is not difficult considering how weak he still is. Recovering from the radiation takes its toll on his body, even if he is past the worst of it. He can see Adira curled up on Paul’s other side, hand loosely gripping his shirt and his arm around them.

Paul gently nudges him to lie his head back down, “Shh, whatever’s going on out there, Tracy can handle it. You still need to rest.”

Tracy’s stopped her dressing down, and Hugh strains his ears to hear what was going on now. “You sure?”

“Yes, now lie down.”

Hugh relents and lays his head down on his favorite pillow. “…m’kay.”

With Paul’s soothing heartbeat under his ear accompanied by Paul’s fingers stroking his hair and lips occasionally brushing against his forehead, Hugh sleeps.

Chapter Text

“S’ti th’laktra.”

Paul looked up from his workstation, “Pardon?”

Michael stood just on the other side with her hands loosely folded in front of her. “It’s Vulcan. It means ‘I grieve with thee’.”

He has no idea why she has any reason to say that to him, and he waits for her to continue. It had been two days since their mission to the Glenn and Paul was… raw. No amount of work would numb that pain, and he tried to carry on despite its physical ache. The only thing giving him strength was Hugh and his saintly patience and gentleness as Paul tried to work his grief out in the middle of this war.

“Tilly told me that Dr. Straal was a close friend of yours. I’m sorry.”

Any anger or irritation Paul felt evaporated. She looked genuinely sincere in her condolences. I guess Vulcans don’t lie also applies to humans raised by Vulcans. Michael didn’t know Straal but could tell he meant a lot to Paul.

“Thank you and… I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for snapping at you the way I did on the shuttle. I was angry and worried, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you; that wasn’t fair.”

Her eyebrows rise up, and she blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting an apology of his own. “Oh, thank you.”

Before any awkwardness could settle, Paul cleared his throat and said, “Did you manage to salvage anything else from the data logs?”
Now in the familiar territory of work, Michael went comfortably on about what she had found so far and what it means.

Paul had lost a friend, but maybe… maybe he had gained another.

Chapter Text

Paul doesn’t look up when the doors to Engineering open and close, his attention enraptured by the data he’s studying. It’s just him with everyone else either out having lunch or somewhere else. Usually, Paul would be eating with Hugh. However, with him tied up in an emergency case and unable to get away, Paul decided to take advantage of the quiet lull to get a bit of extra work done.

“Mrrow?”

Paul pauses and leans over to see a massive fluffy cat.

“Grudge?” He looks around but sees no sign of Booker. “What are you doing here? How’d you even get here?”

Considering how devoted Booker is to his feline companion, Paul can’t imagine he let her get off his ship and loose aboard Discovery. She must have slipped out while he wasn’t looking, but how she was able to make it to Engineering without anyone noticing was another mystery.

Paul sighs, “I’m sure Booker is looking everywhere for you, or he will be eventually.”

Grudge blinks her luminous eyes passively before trotting up to him. Tilly had said she was a big cat, though Paul didn’t realize how big until she came closer. Paul had to admit she was beautiful, and well… he did have a soft spot for cats. Grudge placed her sizeable paws on his knee and hoisted herself onto his lap.

“Yeah, just make yourself at home here,” he grunted.

She turned around a few times, kneading his lap as she did so, before settling down. Grudge stretched out slightly and nestled her head on his arm. Sighing fondly at the cute creature, Paul gently scratched her chest and belly, eliciting a rumbling purr. Her fur feels softer than silk, and her purring fills Paul with a deep sense of peace.

It was probably for the best that Grudge stays in one place and make it easier for Booker to find her. And if that one place happened to be Paul’s lap, well… he was certainly not going to complain.

Chapter Text

It had been an accident and Adira doesn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if they hadn’t found Paul. They had wanted to see the new strain of stella that Paul and Tilly had just planted. That and Adira liked hanging out in the “forest”. The dirt ground under their feet and the earthy smell all around simultaneously excited and calmed them. Growing up on a ship Adira never really experienced nature (the holodeck didn’t count), so getting to walk through a place like this was always a treat.

Until they turned the corner and spotted Paul lying on the ground, unmoving.

“Paul?” Adira jogged up to him.

There wasn’t any blood, and he didn’t appear to be hurt. They knelt down and gently shook his shoulder, “Paul?”

No response.

“Is he dead?” Gray asked, popping up beside Adira.

“I-I don’t think so?” Panic sent their heart racing and limbs trembling. They tried shaking him again, “Paul?”

He groaned quietly, and Adira felt lightheaded with relief.

Slowly his eyes blinked open and gazed blearily up at them. “Adira? What’s wrong?”

He actually had to ask what was wrong? He couldn’t tell for himself? “I should be asking you that. Are you okay? Do I need to get Hugh?”

Paul shook his head and grimaced painfully, “No, ‘mfine.”

“Yeah, no, he’s not,” Gray drawls sarcastically.

Adira taps their comm badge, “Adira to Hugh.”

“Hugh here. Adira, what’s wrong? You okay?”

“I’m fine, but I think Paul’s sick or maybe hurt. I found him in the cultivation bay and—"

Propping himself on his elbow, Paul holds up a hand to stall Adira’s near panic rambling. He looks paler than usual, but there’s that familiar annoyed look on his face. “I’m fine, Hugh. I just needed a quiet place to lie down for a minute.”

Hugh’s voice is equal parts caring and concerned, the two sides of him, doctor and partner, falling in sync. “Is it a migraine or something else?”

Paul winces and firmly rubs his forehead as if to massage away the pain. “Migraine, yeah.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Once the call ended, Paul dropped his head down on his arm. His eyes slid shut, and Adira wasn’t sure if he fell asleep or fainted. They also weren’t sure if they should stay or leave. Leaving didn’t feel right even if Paul wasn’t in danger and help was coming, so… staying it was.

His eyes fluttered open and weakly glanced up at Adira, “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine.”

They fidgeted with their fingers, “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to stay with someone if they’re sick or hurt until help comes.”

Paul’s response is cut before it can begin by the sound of the bay doors opening. Hugh comes around the corner with a hypo and a bottle of water in one hand. Seeing him sends a small wave of relief through Adira and that he didn’t appear too worried. Hugh knelt beside Paul, setting the water bottle down and softly running a hand over his partner’s hair.

“You should’ve gone back to our quarters if you didn’t feel well,” the doctor lightly chastised.

Paul sighed through his nose, “It didn’t feel that bad, thought I’d be fine after a quick nap.”

Hugh hummed and lightly pressed the hypo to Paul’s neck. Adira saw him wince and then relax as the medicine took hold and slowly erased his pain. Carefully, Hugh lifted Paul’s head and slid his legs underneath.

“Don’t you need to get back?” Paul mumbled.

“Nah, it’s a slow day, and Tracy can always comm if she needs me.”

“In that case,” Paul wrapped one arm around Hugh’s legs, effectively keeping his new pillow in place and closed his eyes.

Adira shot Hugh a quizzical look. Wasn’t the medicine supposed to make him better? Or was it a sedative to help him sleep the migraine off? Hugh caught their look, and his lips twitched upward. “He’ll be fine. The meds make him a bit drowsy, and rest will help with the aftereffects.”

“And the water?”

“Hydration helps too, plus I bet he’s been drinking more coffee than water anyway.”

“Does he get these a lot?” Adira asked. If he does, perhaps they should keep a stock of that medicine in Engineering.

He gently strokes Paul’s hair as if petting a cat. “Not as much as he used to, thankfully. He used to get tension headaches often, and sometimes those would lead to an episode.”

“To be fair, we were in a war and captained by a despotic hard-ass who was actually from a murderous alternate universe,” Paul mumbled without opening his eyes or moving.

Adira and Gray, even if the men couldn’t see him, gapped at them.

“Wow,” Gray finally said, sounding stunned. “And I thought we had been through some seriously weird stuff.”

“Yeah,” Adira murmured. They turned their attention to the others. “You guys... you must have a lot of interesting stories to tell.”

Both men smiled, and Hugh chuckled, “You could say that. Do you want to hear one?”

“Sure, umm,” they looked at Gray for an idea.

“How about the beginning? That’s where you’re supposed to start a story, right?”

Adira nodded, “How did you guys meet?”

Hugh then delved into a tale involving a café, coffee, and Kasselian opera.

Chapter Text

Tilly blanched and then flushed crimson, “I am so sorry I didn’t mean to answer.”

He smiled, “Hey, no worries, young lady. I don’t suppose Pa—Lieutenant Stamets is around?”

She glanced around, hoping he’d appear like a magician, which he was wont to do, except this time.

The man studied her, and his face suddenly lit up with realization. “Wait a minute, you must be Tilly. I’m pretty sure no one else on your ship has hair like yours.”

Self-consciously, Tilly touched the hair falling down her shoulder. She hadn’t had time this morning to wrestle her locks into a bun and had to settle for a high ponytail. Thankfully no one seemed to notice or care that her hair wasn’t in a regulatory fashion.

“You must be something special for Paul to pick you. He swore up and down that he would never put a cadet on his team, something about them being too green and annoyingly naïve. You must have really impressed him.”

The flush on her face deepened. She had impressed the lieutenant? Sure she was one of the very few cadets on the ship, but they were in a war right now, and Starfleet needed all the help they could get. Still…

“Uh… th-thank you sir and are you uh…” Tilly stammered.

Instead of being offended or annoyed with her spluttering, the man kindly smiled. “I’m Justin Straal, or lieutenant, I guess I should say. I don’t care much for rank, shows that I’m more scientist than Starfleet officer, I suppose.”

Straal… why does that name sound familiar? Tilly rolled it around her head until it finally clicked. She blurted out, “You’re Lieutenant Stamets’ research partner!”

He grinned broadly, “That’s me. I don’t suppose my partner is around?”

“Oh, uh I-I think he’s still in the cultivation bay. He just had a meeting with Captain Lorca, so...”

Stamets had returned to Engineering, silently fuming and looking ready to take someone’s head off. Everyone had learned quickly to leave him be unless utterly necessary, particularly if he was in the cultivation bay, likely cooling his temper.

Straal nodded in understanding, “Yeah, I’ve heard Lorca can be pretty difficult even under the best circumstances. Paul can be a stubborn ass about his work and how it’s used, so I bet those two get along famously. Well, at least Paul has Hugh to help soothe his ruffled feathers.”

Hugh? “Wait… do you mean Dr. Culber? They know each other?”

Straal blinked in surprise before giving her a sly grin, “Oh, they know each other alright. If you ever catch the two bickering like an old married couple, it’s because they are.”

“Wait, are they... I mean…?”

“Well, not officially married, but for all intents and purposes, they are.”

Tilly’s eyes widened as she tried to process that tidbit of information. The few times she saw the two men together, Stamets always seemed annoyed by Culber while the doctor looked… amused?

“Anyway, if Paul is cooling his heels, best not to disturb him. Pro tip if he gets really bad, just let Hugh know, and he’ll set Paul right,” he said the last part with a wry smile.

“Though being out in nature helps, says it’s soothing for him, and the bay is probably the closest to nature he has out here. Wonder if that was another reason why he’s so set on growing stella.”

Tilly peered at him quizzically, “You don’t?”

“Nope,” Straal looked prideful, “ours are freeze-dried, and they work just fine. Better in my opinion, not that—oh hi Paul.”

Tilly squeaked and whirled around to see Lieutenant Stamets standing behind her, arms crossed and mildly scowling at the comm screen.

“Are you harassing my staff, Straal?”

“Who me? Never.”

Stamets’ scowl didn’t abate, and he looked at Tilly. She shook her head, “H-He wasn’t. I-I accidentally answered the comm and we talked and—”

He held up a hand, “It’s alright, Cadet, I get it. You can go now and let me deal with this nuisance.”

“Nuisance?” Straal said indignantly. “Is that what you call your only research partner and best friend?”

Stamets ignores him and waves Tilly out of his seat. She quickly scampers out of the chair but stops and says to Straal, “I-It was nice talking to you.”

“Nice talking to you, Tilly. If you ever get tired of working for the grouch here, I’ve got room for you on the Glenn.” Stamets shoots him a glare though Straal looks back unfazed. “What? For someone who said they’d never take on a cadet and then actually do so? She must be something special.”

Chapter Text

“We could flip for it.”

Hugh looks at Tracy and tries to figure out if she’s being serious or not. After years of being around her, he can usually tell the difference in her dry tone between serious and sarcastic. Saru had sent them a message asking them to decide who would take over as CMO since the previous one stayed behind on the Enterprise.

“I don’t know why he doesn’t just pick one of us; we’re both equally qualified,” she snorts.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to cause any conflict between us by picking one over the other?” Hugh offers.

Tracy gives him a flat look, and Hugh shrugs. He wouldn’t mind taking the position, but it wasn’t something he envisioned himself doing one day. Then again, neither was dying and being resurrected. He could lead people and had on occasion, the most recent being their battle with Control, but he and Tracy had tag-teamed on that.

She sighs and digs into her pocket, pulling out an old fashion silver coin. He recognized it as her lucky coin, a gift from her sister who collected coins as a hobby. Tracy said she never put stock in things like luck, but that never stopped her from carrying it around or touching it when she was worried or stressed.

“Alright, we’re flipping for it. Heads or tails?”

“Heads,” he says.

“Tails then,” she flicks her thumb and sends the slim metal disc up in the air.

The coin falls neatly in her palm, and she slaps it over the back of her other hand. Lifting her hand away, Hugh teasingly smirks.

“So, Chief Medical Officer Pollard, what’s your first order?”

She blinks then shoots him a satisfied smile, “Naming you the ship’s counselor.”

“Me? What… why me? I don’t have any psyche training.”

Tracy, still smiling, hands him a PADD. “Well, you’ve always been a quick study, and I’m sure there’s plenty of material you can read up on to at least get the basics. Besides, people like talking to you and I think your unique experience in feeling… detached and lost might come in handy now that we’re so far from home.”

“But…”

She pats his arm and saunters away, “I’d get reading if I were you. You might want to take stock of everyone’s mental and emotional states now that things have settled down and we’re not in immediate danger of dying.”

Hugh watched her leave, looked at the PADD, then back up and smiled. Already he could tell with Tracy at the helm, they were in good hands.

Chapter Text

Adira stumbled into the mess hall, yawning and rubbing their sleep leaden eyes. Any time before ten was too early to be awake, in their opinion. But Gray had always been an early riser, and Adira had inherited that, so they were awake whether they liked it or not. Grabbing a tray of food and, most importantly, a cup of coffee, they looked for a place to sit.

Tilly’s flaming locks proved a beacon, and Adira made their way towards her. The older girl studied a PADD with a frown that should worry Adira if they were more awake. But they are conscious enough to notice that two certain people are missing from their table.

“Where are Paul and Hugh?”

Tilly looks up as if finally noticing she wasn’t alone. Biting her lip, she says, “You know that weird cold virus that’s been going around?”

Adira nods while sipping their coffee. The outbreak was, mercifully, nothing serious. More of a virulent annoyance that was rapidly picking off the crew and leaving them bedridden for a week—fevers, chills, coughing, nothing that couldn’t be treated with rest and fluids.

“Both of them caught it,” the ginger flips the PADD around for Adira to read a short message from Paul.

[Stamets-Paul, LTCDR/ENGR] Not coming in today. Caught what’s going around the ship. Hugh is still sick. Don’t do anything dangerous, questionable, or anything Reno suggests while I’m out.

Adira thoughtfully chews their muffin while reading the short missive. “So, what do we do?”

Tilly sets the PADD down and pokes at her breakfast, “Keep working as though he were there, I guess. It feels weird to work while they’re sick, and I know Pollard has her hands full with so many being sick.”

Adira agreed with it feeling weird. Going about their business while people they cared about were sick and suffering felt more wrong than weird. They might have little experience with having a family, but they at least knew that family took care of each other.

A thought occurs to the teen, “Why don’t we take care of them then?”

“What? Do you know anything about taking care of people because I sure don’t.”

Adira fishes through their scant memory for anything and then looks to Gray, sitting at their left, for help.

“There was the time you helped take care of me when I had Bajoran measles.” He gives an impish grin and winks, “You made a really cute nurse.”

Heat blooms instantly on their cheeks. Tilly looks back and forth between Adira and the, to her, empty space that she knows Gray must be sitting. “What? What’d he say?”

“N-Nothing, just that I took care of him once when he was sick.”

Tilly nervously twists her fork around, “Well… I guess we could at least check on them and see if they need anything.”

~*~

They make a detour to grab a few items before going to the sick men’s quarters. The door opens, and Tilly pokes her head in. The lights are dimmed, and a miasma of malady permeates the air.

“Paul? Hugh? Are you guys still alive?”

Adira leans over and can see the two men curled up together in one giant ball of misery. Hugh lifts his head and squints at them as if trying to determine if they are really there.

“Tilly? Adira? What is it? Are two okay?” Hugh’s typically gentle voice is painfully scratchy.

The pair shuffle in, and Adira answers, “We’re fine but we wanted to stop by and maybe help take care of you?”

Hugh gives them a tired smile. “That’s nice of you, but we’ll be fine, and we don’t want you to get sick either.”

Paul shifts and murmurs something to Hugh but is seized by an aggressive coughing fit. Adira is moving to him before they realize it. Memory and experience from one of the Tals, Madela, kicks in.

With care, they maneuver Paul to sitting upright, “Sitting up will help ease your breathing.”

They rearrange the pillows to better support him in a slightly upright position. The coughing has stopped by then, leaving his breathing hoarse and his face flushed. Adira grabs a nearby glass of water and hands it to him with a look that says to drink it or else.

Paul wisely takes the glass, “Did you learn that look from Hugh?”

Adira thinks for a moment, then shakes their head. “No, I that was Madela. I think she used to be a doctor, maybe? I think your coughing triggered her to come forward.”

“Huh, so you do know how to take care of people,” Tilly observes with a wry smile and sets down her armload on a nearby table. “Do you guys need anything?”

“Water and honey lemon tea, please,” Hugh requests. Tilly replicates and hands off the drinks in short order.

“You kids don’t have to stay with us,” Paul says between sips of water. “We’re fine, wouldn’t want you to get bored of us and all.”

Adira shakes their head, “We wouldn’t be bored. We could read or talk or…”

A memory, Madela’s, filters through of her just sitting with her ailing father. The two not saying much, merely savoring the comfort brought on by each other’s presence.

“Oh, I know.” Tilly pawed through the pile of stuff they brought and pulled out a white paperback book. “My dad used to read to me when I was sick. Michael gave me this to read a while back and never got around to finishing it.”

“What is it?”

“Alice in Wonderland. I can start from the beginning, though.”

It took a bit of shuffling and maneuvering, but they were able to squeeze four bodies in the bed. Tilly stretched out along the edge of the bed with Hugh next to her. He had an arm wrapped around Paul’s shoulders while the latter nestled his head on Hugh’s shoulder. Adira snuggled close to Paul with his arm around them on the other side. Gray perched cross-legged on the corner of the bed.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, and where is the use of a book, thought Alice, without pictures or conversations?”

Chapter Text

Tilly was shoulder deep in an open panel. Some of the circuitry inside was fried and needed to be replaced entirely. She held a small bundle of dangling wires with one hand and reached over from behind to grab something out of her toolbox.

Her hand unexpectedly touched fur, and she let out a small shriek.

Out of instinct, she ripped her hand away and whirled around to see Grudge had nestled herself inside Tilly’s toolbox. The massive cat seemed to spill out from over the edges, yet she looked quite content.

“Grudge,” she groaned. “Get out of there. I need my pliers.”

The cat blinked indifferently at her and settled deeper into her new bed. Tilly looked around in the hopes of finding something to use to distract the feline nuisance. There was nothing to be had. I guess I could try moving her, Tilly thought with dismay. Granted, she was bigger than the cat, but the animal had claws and teeth. What if she bites me and I get infected with some weird disease? Like space rabies?

Her hands hovered and carefully darted around Grudge, trying to find the best way to extract the purring beast. Tilly tried not to cringe as her fingers sunk into Grudge’s fur. Reluctantly, she’d admit the cat’s fur was soft, but the fear of being bitten or scratched outweighed any enjoyment. Grudge let out a low, displeased growl, and Tilly immediately removed her hands.

“Okay, okay, fine, stay there," she sighed in frustration. "I’ll just… go find another pair of pliers.”

Grudge closed her eyes and purred loudly in satisfaction.

Chapter Text

Paul glares at the data and notes on his PADD, trying to understand how Justin could attempt a jump at speirein 900. It was absolutely impossible! Not to mention the level of displacement it would cause… Justin had to be bluffing, but he didn’t have that glint in his eye or smirk on his face when he did so…

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. If Justin was telling the truth, why not tell Paul how he was doing it? Did it involve some kind of abuse to stella that Paul would disapprove of? Or black-market technology? Or something stolen from the Klingons?

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Hugh murmurs from beside Paul.

Paul felt a twinge of guilt at having possibly woken his partner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He shakes his head with a faint smile, “It’s alright. The sound of the gears turning in your head woke me. What’s wrong?”

“Justin claims the Glenn can jump at speirein 900, but that’s impossible. We have the same technology and are using the same strain of fungi, so how?”

“He didn’t tell you?” From what Hugh knew of Justin, he wasn’t the type to hold anything back from Paul, good or bad.

Paul shook his head, “No, Burnham interrupted us before he could, but he might not have even if she didn’t.”

“It’s not just that, is it?” Hugh tugged at Paul’s arm to get him to lie down.

Paul did so, resting his head on Hugh’s shoulder and reveling in the warmth he exuded. Hugh’s skillful fingers threaded themselves in Paul’s hair in soothing strokes. The tenseness and stress that followed Paul all day always melted away with Hugh’s touch and warmth.

“You’re worried about him,” Hugh correctly surmised.

Paul relaxed further into his love’s embrace. “Yeah, I don’t care about the damn award, not if it means endangering my friend. I just… want him to be careful.”

“You think he might be going too fast?”

The blond nodded. “I know we need to win this war, but I’m worried Justin will go too far, and… something catastrophic will happen.”

Hugh gently stroked Paul’s hair and kissed the top of his head. “Give him a call in the morning. See if he’ll tell you how he’s able to jump so far and how dangerous you feel it might be.”

Paul nods and closes his eyes. He’ll call Justin in the morning. It’s only a few hours, what could happen?

Chapter Text

“Coffee? We’re going to need it if we’re pulling another all-nighter.”

Paul scrubbed his face and tried to make his bleary eyes focus. He looked away from his screen to the glorious sight of a tall to-go cup of coffee set beside him. His new (and so far longest lasting) research partner Justin Straal stood nearby holding his own coffee.

Paul was unsure what twist of fate brought them together during their final year at Starfleet Academy and if he should be thankful or cursing that twist. The man was annoyingly cheery, friendly, and easy-going. He handled everything with enviable ease, from people to scientific problems. None of Paul’s prickliness seemed to faze him either and gave as good as he got when they bantered.

The blond would grudgingly admit that Straal was smart, undoubtedly, enough to at least keep pace with him. He also held respect for their field in a way that Paul thought was unique only to him. Meal breaks that started off with them discussing work drifted off to talking about more personal topics like favorite music, family stories, and tidbits of office gossip.

There were moments, few and fleeting, where Paul thought maybe they were friends. Whenever that happened, he’d scoff to himself and brush the foolish thought aside. Who would want to be friends with a tetchy, loner scientist obsessed with studying mushrooms?

Paul took the cup and sipped the caffeinated nectar. Caramel macchiato. One of his favorites. Did Straal actually remember what Paul liked to order?

He took another sip, “Thanks.”

Straal smiled and lifted his own cup, “Any time, my friend.”

“Am I?” The question left Paul’s mouth before he realized it and fervently hoped the other man hadn’t heard.

Judging by the surprised blinking he had heard. Paul felt his face grow painfully warm and stubbornly blamed it on the coffee. He clenched his jaw and waited for a sarcastic remark or laughter at the pathetic question.

Instead, though Straal’s face softened slightly, “You are.”

Carefully, Paul relaxed when he could tell he meant it. The tense apprehension faded, and something comfortable settled in its place. Straal shot him another smile before going back to his workstation, and Paul felt warm and awake that had nothing to do with the coffee.

*~*~*~*~*

“If you die, I’m leaving your corpse out for the buzzards.”

“Pretty sure there aren’t any buzzards on Deneva,” Justin has a pillow pulled over his head, but he can hear Paul rolling his eyes. “Besides, wouldn’t it be more fitting for me to be buried and have my body feed the mushrooms?”

“I’m not going to poison our mushroom children with your diseased carcass.”

The ailing man pulled his aching head out from under the pillow, “You are so cruel. Hugh should give you some lessons on bedside manners.”

This time he gets to see Paul roll his eyes, who then sets down a small tray on the bedside table. A glass of water, a mug of tea, toast, and aspirin. Wordlessly, Paul hands him the water and tablets, which Justin sits up and takes without complaint. While modern medicine had done wonders in eradicating most diseases, the cold and flu were still a nuisance that didn’t have a quick fix. The only cure being the tried-and-true rest and fluids plan. Personally, Justin thought it was incredibly unfair that he got sick and not Paul despite having a healthier lifestyle.

Next, Paul handed him the tea, “You need to stay hydrated, and the honey in the tea will help your throat.”

“Did Hugh tell you that? The benefit of having a friend dating a doctor, I suppose,” Justin quipped before sipping his drink.

“I know how to treat a simple cold,” Paul huffed and then added, “but the honey was his idea.”

The hot liquid soothed the irritating itch in his throat, and the honey was like a salve on a burn. He set the mug down and settled back on his stomach. Paul straightens out the blankets and, in an act that Justin knew his friend would deny doing until his last breath, carefully tucked them around him.

He squeezed his shoulder and murmured, “Get some rest, my friend. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

Through a half-open eye, Justin watched him leave and smiled while burrowing into the bedding. For such grouch he can be, Paul was a sweet softie on the inside.

*~*~*~*~*

Despite the circumstances, Justin can’t help but feel somewhat elated at seeing his and Paul’s work turned into realty. Standing on the station’s observation deck, they stared out through the massive viewports at the two ships docked just outside.

The USS Discovery and the USS Glenn.

The first-ever Crossfield-class. Ships that would run not only on dilithium but on prototaxites stellaviatori too. Over a decade of research and work finally coming to fruition, Justin couldn’t contain his grin. However, one look at Paul’s somber face deflated that grin. His friend looked up at those ships resigned and sullen. Their work had always been theoretical, and Paul had been content with that and so had he. But to actually see it applied in real life! How could Paul not be excited?

Oh, right. It’s only because Starfleet found it useful because we’re in a war. That would put a damper on anything. He quietly sighed and tried to think of something to say before they boarded their respective ships. This might be the last time in a long time before they would see each other in person again.

“I know the circumstances suck, but you have to admit it’s pretty damn cool. We get to see our work in action. This could start a revolution in ship propulsion, can you imagine?” Justin tried to sound casual and upbeat. “And you and Hugh get to spend more time together.”

Paul closed his eyes; even the prospect of spending more time with his partner didn’t seem to lighten his mood.

“I hate this. We are not soldiers. Starfleet is not supposed to be a military organization.”

“I know, Paul. I hate this too,” the blond shot him a stern look. “What? I do. You think I’m happy that the only reason our research is a reality is because of a war?”

Seconds ticked by before Paul said anything. Speaking quietly in a voice laced with exhaustion and empty anger, “This isn’t what science is supposed to be used for.”

Justin watched his friend, the man he had known and worked with for years. All the successes and failures, both professional and personal, he was glad to have gone through it all with Paul. The man could be blunt, overly dedicated to his work, and touchy, but Justin couldn’t have asked for a better friend.

“All personal, please prepare for launch.”

Both men jumped at the sudden announcement and that their time was up. Before he could protest, Justin pulled Paul into a tight hug. Predictably, Paul tensed at the contact but relaxed and returned the embrace.

Justin murmured, “Stay safe, my friend.”

Paul held him a little tighter, “You too.”

*~*~*~*~*

The Glenn. Accident. Away mission.

Mangled bodies. Blood everywhere.

Running. Chasing. Screaming.

Silence. Brief respite. No one else here.

Get the tech. Get the data. Get—

A glance behind the console and everything stops.

“I’m sorry, my friend.”

Chapter Text

“No.”

If their mind hadn’t been so hazy from shock, they’d be pleased with how firm and steady their voice sounded.

Captain Burnham sighs, “Adira—”

“No, you can’t make me go,” they turn their attention to the hologram of the Trill. “And you can’t make me either.”

He is a stern-faced man garbed in a brightly colored robe. “Not long ago, you nearly died, child. A Starfleet ship is no place for you; it is not safe.”

This is the safest I’ve ever felt, though. While Adira’s memories before taking the symbiote were still hazy, they knew this to be true. They felt safe and happy here. This is their home. They have a family; it’s not just them and Gray, but so many more. Like Paul and Hugh. Their heart suddenly clenches, and they have a startlingly strong urge to run to them.

“Discovery is as safe a ship as any other in Starfleet,” Burnham politely argues.

The elder scoffs, “Which is to say not at all. How safe is a ship if it can be hijacked by a ruthless Orion?

“There are fewer Trill than there are symbiotes and less who can support one. We need to protect those still alive. Do you know how many Trill and symbiotes we lost to the Burn? We cannot afford to lose any more. It is in your and Tal’s best interest to come to Trill where you will be safe, protected, and properly educated in being a symbiote host.”

Panic grips Adira in a painful, suffocating vise. No. No, they can’t do this! This is my home, my family. They can’t take that away from me. “L-Leader Pav said I could stay on stay on Discovery. S-She wouldn’t force me to leave.”

“While I do respect our leader, you are a child and thus do not know what is best for you.”

Numbly, they hear Burnham talking, and she sounds so far away, but her words still reach their ears. “Adira Tal is a member of my crew aboard my ship. You have no right to remove them if they chose not to leave.”

The Trill gives an irritated huff, “Very well, Captain. However, I implore you to think about what is best for your crew and for members of the Federation like us even if you find it unappealing.”

The image winks out, leaving Adira and Burnham alone. The panic beating their senses abates slightly, but they still feel stunned and scared.

“Adira,” Burnham’s voice is hesitant. “I know that was sudden, but maybe you should think about—”

“No,” they interrupt. “They can’t… I won’t…”

Abruptly they snap to their feet and all but run out of the ready room.

*~*~*~*~*

Sleep is hard-fought, and though Adira eventually wins, it turns into an empty victory.

Hands tightly grip their arms, forcibly dragging them away. Adira tries to dig their heels in, but that proves futile.

“You don’t belong here.”

Adira pulls and tries to twist away from the painful unyielding holds.

“We can take better care of you. No one here wants you.”

“That’s not true!” They frantically look around for Paul, Hugh, Tilly, anyone to come for them. But all they see are blurry figures of the crew moving around; no one looks up. No one pays attention.

“Come along child, you’ll be put with a proper family on Trill.”

Adira knows those on Trill will only care about Tal, not Adira. They’ll just see the symbiote, not the host. The teen tries to break free, but more hands appear from nowhere to pull them back, away from the ship, their home, their family.

“No! Please, stop! Stop! Dad, help!”

Adira lurches up from bed with a strangled cry. Their room is dark, save for the light from the stars outside their window. Adrenaline slowly fades, leaving them feeling shaky and cold. The sense of fear and helplessness from their nightmare lingered.

“Adira?” Gray’s voice is soft and cautious.

They look up to see him standing near the bed, fretful. “Gray? I’m… I’m…”

“Not fine,” he finishes. “Maybe you should go see Paul and Hugh.”

Adira shakes their head and tries to take a deep breath. They weren’t going to bother them over a dumb dream like a child. But the thought of them… the feeling of safety while in their arms, the warmth their voices brought Adira, and the love…

Gray gives an encouraging half-smile, and Adira climbs out of bed. They grab a green and blue plaid shawl, a gift from Hugh because he thought the colors and pattern looked nice on them. The fabric was soft and surprisingly warming despite how light it was. The distance between their quarters wasn’t much, yet it felt like miles.

They tap the door chime instead of walking right in since it was late, and the two men might be asleep or engaged in other nighttime activities. Seconds tick by, and Adira fidgets with the edge of the shawl and wonders if they should just go back to bed. Before they can decide, the door slides open with Paul wearing pajamas and mussed hair.

“Adira? What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, they felt foolish for disturbing him, yet hearing his concern, they wanted to cry and tell him everything.

“I… um… I…” A lump forms in their throat, along with tears in their eyes.

Paul slowly reaches out and pulls them close, “Hey, hey, it’s alright. Did you have a nightmare?”

Adira nods and rests their head against his chest.

“Okay, you come inside and tell us about it.”

He gently leads them inside. Hugh is now awake and sitting up; at seeing Adira, he pats the space next to him on the bed. If they had been less distraught and shaken, they’d have been embarrassed at how quickly they clambered up on the bed. The desperate need for comfort and safety overrose everything else. Adira curls into Hugh’s side, and Paul sits on their other side, sandwiching them in-between. Hugh slips one arm around Adira, and Paul tucks the blankets around their waist.

All the tension and fear Adira had been holding slowly melted away. They breathed in slowly, taking in the scents they now associated with home and love.

Paul lays a hand on their shoulder, “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

They didn’t want to and responded by burrowing further into Hugh.

The doctor sighed fondly and ran a light hand over Adira’s hair. “I know it might not seem like it, but talking does help. It’ll make things seem less scary.”

“You know he’s right,” Gray points out from his spot at the corner of the bed.

Reluctantly, Adira pulls themselves away from their hiding spot. “Michael had called me to her ready room. I guess Trill heard about Osyrra taking the ship and… and they…” Adira chokes out the last part, “want to take me back to Trill. They said I’d be safer there than here and…”

Warm tears pool in their eyes and quickly dry them with a swipe of their shawl. “Michael told them no, but I… what if they try again? I… I don’t want to leave my home.”

Adira buries their face in their drawn-up knees. Hugh wraps his arms around them and pulling them close.

“Is that what your nightmare was about? That you were being taken away from here?”

They nod.

Paul lays his hand on their back, “We’re not going to let that happen.”

Adira peeks and sees the familiar firm set of Paul’s mouth and the determined glint in his eyes. “You are our kid, and we are not going to let anyone take you away.”

*~*~*~*~*

Adira finally settled to sleep, tucked against Hugh with their head resting on his arm and the pillow. Hugh gently stroked their hair with his other hand as if petting a cat. Paul was intently studying something on his PADD with his brows furrowed, lips tightly pressed, and eyes narrowed. A serious expression for only the most serious of problems.

And this certainly counts as one. Hugh looks back down at the young teen, now looking more peaceful. Adira’s bit of news had alarmed them. Since they were still a minor, could Trill take them into their custody? Adira wasn’t a citizen of Trill, but they are a member of the Federation and since Trill is a part of the Federation, then… Hugh quietly sighed, I’m a doctor, not a lawyer.

“Hugh?”

He glances up to see Paul looking at him.

“Find anything helpful?” His love’s face says otherwise, though he still has to ask.

“Not really, but… I do have one idea.” Paul fidgets, and Hugh can see he’s trying to gather his thoughts (or courage) to speak. “Look, I know we never got a chance to sit down and seriously talk about this, but…”

His blue eyes flicker down to Adira and stay there a few moments. Hugh’s starting to suspect what Paul’s going to say but waits to actually hear it.

“We could adopt them and become their guardians. That way they’d have adults legally speaking for them and…”

Having children was something he and Paul had batted around on occasion. At the time, they were more focused on each other and their respective careers. They figured after getting married and settling down, they might consider adopting, but then war broke out and everything went awry. They both adored their nieces and nephews and they them, though being a father was far different than being an uncle. Hugh knew Paul would make an excellent father despite his protests to the contrary.

“We’d only be their guardians for little more than a year, right? They’re almost seventeen.”

“Actually, three years,” he gestures to the PADD still propped against his knees. “Age of majority was changed from 18 to 20 in the late 2560s.”

“Being their legal guardian will be far different than… what we are now,” Hugh points out.

He’s not trying to dissuade Paul but making sure his partner knows what they’ll be signing up for. Paul, he knows, thinks every action through. Most of the time.

“I know, but… would it be all that different to what we are doing now? We make sure they’re well-fed, kept safe and healthy, support and encourage them, love them… Isn’t that what par—guardians are supposed to do?”

Paul had a point. They were already Adira’s guardians (parents) in all but name. Why not take that extra little step?

“How long do you think the process would take?”

Paul blinked before his mind caught up to what Hugh was asking. He swiped through a few files he had open, “A couple of months I would think, but given how disorganized the Federation still is, probably longer.”

“Well, considering how much we’ve done for Starfleet and the Federation, maybe we could call in a favor and have the process expedited?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

Hugh looks back down at Adira and lightly strokes their short black locks. “I think in the morning we should ask Adira, though, if that’s what they want. Minor or not, this is their life, and they should have as much a say as possible.”

Paul nods and sets his PADD aside. Hugh orders the lights off, and the two settle into the blankets without disturbing the third occupant. Paul is right, Adira is their kid, and they would not let anyone take them away.

Chapter Text

After receiving Adira’s permission and submitting the proper paperwork, there was nothing they could do but wait. A painful, anxious waiting game. Paul jumped every time his PADD chimed, and Hugh checked his almost obsessively for any kind of message from HQ on the matter.

“Hugh, it’ll happen when it happens,” Tracy reassured.

The idea of having Adira as theirs wasn’t the only thing making them anxious, but having it done before Trill tried to retake Adira. The more he thought about it, the more the thought of them leaving scared him. Adira had somehow become theirs without any of them realizing it.

Adira was theirs, plain and simple.

And if someone tried to take what was theirs, they were going to fight back. Like right now.

Paul is glaring at Burnham, and Adira is standing close to him. Hugh is on their other side to give them a sense of solidarity and protection and reassure himself. The holograph of an older Trill man, Hadon Marex, stands nearby, radiating impatience and irritation.

“This is ridiculous; Tal belongs to us.”

“You are not taking them.” Paul’s tone is glacial, “They don’t even want to go.”

Hugh opens his mouth, but his PADD chimes; no one pays attention. He opens the message and scrolls through its contents.

Burnham tries to sound patient, “I’m not going to risk an already tenuous relationship with Trill just so you can play house. Maybe this is the best for them to be with people more like them.”

“Excuse me?! You were adopted, Burnham. Why are you against us adopting them?”

The doctor skimmed through a few paragraphs.

“This is different. I had nowhere to go.”

“Neither do they!”

Marex doesn’t roll his eyes, but his tone conveys as much. “Adira Tal will be sent back to Trill where they belong. None of you here have any say in this matter.”

“Actually, we do,” Hugh flashes him a polite smirk along with the PADD in hand. “As of right now, we are Adira’s legal guardians.”

The look of shock on his and Burnham’s faces is damn priceless.

He hands the PADD to her. She looks it over and then at the Trill, “He’s right, and as Ensign Tal’s guardians, they have the right to approve or decline any requested transfer.”

Paul is openly grinning with smug glee, “And we wholeheartedly decline.”

“Very well,” he says with gritted teeth. He looks at Adira, “I truly hope you know what you are doing, child.”

Adira straightens up, and Hugh feels pride swell in his heart at how tall and dignified they stand. “This is my home, and I’m not leaving.”

“If you are certain then,” Marex turns his gaze at Burnham. “I suppose there is nothing more to discuss, and our business is concluded.”

The image blinks out.

Paul’s shoulders slump in relief, “Talk about cutting it close.”

Adira leans against him, “Yeah.”

Hugh takes the PADD back from Burnham and smiles as he reads over the words. …Drs. Hugh Culber and Paul Stamets are hereby granted custody of Adira Tal on this day…

Adira was theirs, plain and simple.

Chapter Text

“I’ll be back by dinner, baby girl.”

A woman with warm pearl-gray eyes smiles at them and reaches out to ruffle their hair. Her hair is black and falls to her chin in soft curls. Long shiny silver and blue earrings sway from her earlobes.

“I’m not a baby,” Adira pouts and tries to smooth down their tousled locks.

She lightly laughs, “No, but you’ll always be my baby.”

Adira’s eyes snap open, and they half sit up in bed. A memory, not a dream. Somewhere deep in their heart, they feel a grounded certainty that this was their memory. Not Gray, or Senna, or any of the others; this was theirs.

“Mom?” Adira whispers, uncertain. The word felt right not only on their tongue but in their heart. “Gray?”

“Yeah?” Gray’s sudden appearance would startle anyone else, but Adira had far grown used to it.

“Do you remember anything about my mom? Or my dad?”

Gary’s face takes on a look akin to what Reno would call “a deer in headlights”. “Uh… I remember she used to paint, and I think they died a while ago? Why?”

Adira slowly swings their legs over the edge of the bed. “Because I think I remembered her.”

“Oh,” he said faintly.

They look up and see that he is gone.

*****************

“Stamets.”

Paul doesn’t bother looking up from his PADD at Reno’s greeting. Reading the latest spore drive diagnostics was far more interesting to him than engaging with an exasperating engineer.

“Stamets,” she repeats louder.

“What?”

“Your little gopher is moping in a Jeffries tube.”

His brows furrow, “Gopher?”

“Yeah, you know your other kid. Short, black hair, sporting a symbiote. That one?”

It clicks. “Adira, and are you going to be giving animal nicknames to everyone?”

“Not sure, though maybe meerkat is better. Don’t know what I’d call Tilly. Hugh is definitely a badger.”

Paul shakes his head and goes to find Adira. The tube nearest the spore cube had become Adira’s favorite little hideaway.

“Adira? You up there?”

“Go away,” comes the sullen reply.

Did they have a fight with Gray? They were pretty quiet at breakfast this morning. Paul weighs his options of leaving them alone or trying to talk to them. Concern outweighs the fear of inciting a teenager’s ire.

“Can I come up?” He asks gently.

Seconds pass, and he hears a soft “sure”.

Paul climbs the ladder to find the teen sitting with knees drawn up and arms wrapped around. They look sad and lost; he sits close by but still far enough to give them space.

“Did something happen between you and Gray?”

“No, maybe? I…” They inhale shakily. “I remembered my mom.”

Paul blinks as his mind halts to process that last sentence. Of course, he knew Adira had parents before, though it was a topic they never discussed and one he and Hugh didn’t bring up.

“You… did? What did you remember?”

Adira shrugs, “Just… her talking to me. She… was smiling and said she’d be back by dinner. She ruffled my hair and called me her baby girl.” They let out a faint laugh, “Told her I wasn’t a baby, and she laughed and said I’d always be her baby.”

In the soft light, Paul notices their eyes becoming shiny. Adira blinked rapidly and swiped at their eyes.

“What was her name?”

Another shrug, “I don’t remember. But she… had black hair but longer, same nose as me, and she looked young like Tilly’s age.”

“And you’re sure this was your mom?” Paul asked gently, trying not to upset them but to make sure this wasn’t from memory from a previous host.

They sniffle and nod. “I can’t explain it, but… it felt like my memory. I always get this off feeling when I do or remember something that came from one of the Tals like it doesn’t fit with who I am. But this… it felt right and natural like the memory belonged there. Calling her mom, that felt right too, whether she really was or not.”

Sighing roughly, they run their hand through their hair, “I know that sounds stupid and childish and…”

“It doesn’t, and I believe you.” Paul reaches out slowly, letting Adira decide if they want physical comfort or not. Adira curls up against his side, and he wraps his arm around their shoulders. “If you want to find her, we’ll help you.”

“I asked Gray if he knew anything. He said he didn’t remember much, only that she painted and she’s… dead.”

Well… Paul hadn’t expected that. “It doesn’t change my offer. We’ll help you find out whatever and however much we can about her.”

Adira looks up at him, slightly confused, “We?”

He nods, “Me and Hugh and maybe Tilly too; she likes a good mystery. This is important to you, and that makes it important to us.”

“And are you… okay with me doing this? Like, I really, really like you and Hugh, and I don’t want you to think I don’t care about either of you or—”

Paul pulls them closer, “Hey, I get it. We care about you a lot too and we’re not going to be jealous or hurt that you want to know more about your birth parents. Besides, I think I’d like to know more about the woman who brought such an amazing kid into the world.”

Chapter Text

“You’re mad.”

Hugh looks up from the kit he’s packing to see Tracy standing across from him, arms crossed and face unamused. Medbay is nearly empty of people, and he needed to pack for the away mission in a few hours.

He tries for a bit of levity, “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m feeling mad or particularly happy, but—”

She firmly cuts him off, “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” he deflates with a sigh. “I know it might be dangerous, but—”

“Might be?” Tracy interjects. “It will be. Even with anti-radiation medicine, you’ll only have about four hours before you start succumbing. And I don’t want to think about what you’ll actually find on that ship.”

Her tone takes a sharper edge as she speaks. “God, Hugh, I know you’re not arrogant enough to think you’re invincible, but you’re also smart enough not to walk right into danger. This is not going to be a simple or easy mission. As CMO, I can ground your ass and go in your place.”

“Tracy,” that’s all Hugh can manage in his surprise at her threat. They both know such an order was within her power. “Please, Tracy, I need to do this, for myself if no one else. I’ve felt lost and purposeless since coming back from the network. It’s gotten better, but those feelings are still there. We both know that if anyone can best help someone who’s been lost and isolated in a dangerous place, it’s me. I can help in a way that really matters.”

Tracy works her jaw in irritation. Her emotions congeal in her throat, and she hates how her eyes are starting to prickle.

“Do you think any of us could handle losing you a second time?”

She’s not trying to guilt him, only make him understand the price he might be paying to find himself. The price everyone else might have to pay too. “Do you think Paul could handle it because I don’t. In fact, I can’t imagine him being happy about all this.”

Hugh bites his lip and fiddles with a hypospray. “He’s not. We talked about it, and he understands, but he’s worried and scared.”

Of course, he would be. He lost you once, and it nearly killed him. It felt unkind to say those thoughts out loud.

“Are you going to order me to stay behind then?”

His voice was soft with no challenge or entreat to it. Tracy can’t bring herself to give the order despite how much she wanted to. It would be selfish to deny him the chance to grow, to find the missing pieces of who he is. His body had come back to them whole; however, Hugh’s feelings and sense of self were fractured and scattered. Bits and pieces had been found and put back together along the way, but clearly not all.

Tracy walks around the bed and pulls him into a hug, to which he returns the embrace. Hugh had always been more of a tactile person than Tracy; touch was always his way of showing love to those who mattered most.

“You really feel you have to do this?” She asked.

“I do,” his reply is gentle and unwavering.

Sighing, she stepped back, “Then I won’t stop you. I’d be a poor friend if I kept you from trying to do what you feel is best for yourself. As your chief, I trust you and that you know what you’re doing. Just… promise you’ll come back alive, for all our sakes. Paul and Adira aren’t the only ones who’d miss you.”

Hugh’s smile shows her he understands the subtext of her words. I’d miss you.

He gently squeezes her hand. I know.

Chapter Text

I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. Paul repeated that mantra and hoped to convince himself (and his rising panic) it was true. He and Reno were wedged together in a Jefferies tube doing repairs after Discovery’s latest mission ran afoul unexpectedly. In Paul’s humble opinion, flying through an ion storm was a stupid idea, especially when he could’ve jumped them away to safety. Burnham, in all her wisdom, had nixed that idea and opted for something daring.

While they had gotten away from their pursuers, the storm had fried a decent portion of the ship’s systems and circuitry. Paul was confident that, before repairs were done, they wouldn’t be able to jump if they wanted to.

Reno moved her elbow into his side as she shifted her arms, and Paul felt his panic spike. He tries to breathe, and his lungs only half cooperate. Was it him, or was the ship beginning to tilt?

“You know I-I can do this by myself. We don’t… both need to be in here,” Paul tries to sound impatient rather than panicked.

Reno tilts her head back to look at him though Paul keeps his eyes on the mess of wires in front of him. “It’ll go faster with two pairs of hands. Otherwise, you’d be stuck in here for hours, and I don’t think the doc would like that.”

His panic takes another step up, and Paul fights the urge to flee. Preferably to medbay where he can see for himself Hugh, alive and well. But Reno would never let it go if he did, so Paul stubbornly tries to focus.

“Stamets? You okay?”

“Fine,” he bites out. His chest is constricting painfully, and he feels himself starting to shake.

“We gave up everything so you wouldn’t have to be here alone! How can you do this?”

He futilely tries to break out of the restraining hold of the emergency escape field. Hugh and Adira are going to die, and there is nothing he can do about it. Paul will lose the love of his life and the most brilliant kid (his kid) he’s ever known. And all Michael can say is…

“I’m sorry.”

“Stamets!”

Paul jerks and nearly shocks his hand on some exposed wiring. “What?”

Reno is oddly silent, and he almost turns to look at her. “Why don’t you go out and take five? I can finish this bit up.”

“I’m fine,” his voice comes out more strangled than he’d like.

Her voice is gentle, “Paul, it’s okay if you need to step outside here for a minute. I can tell something’s up and if you need a break, go ahead.”

Panic and raw emotion are starting to encroach over his set barriers. Deciding to save his waning pride, Paul pries himself out of the confined space. He walks a few paces and settles on the floor in a small nook, partially hiding from view. Drawing his knees up, he rests his head and tries to breathe normally. Adrenaline beats through his body in time with his pounding heart.

Stop it; you’re not there. It’s not happening. Get over it already. His internal criticism does nothing, as usual, to help.

Paul hears someone sit beside him. He cautiously looks up to see Reno, who pays him a soft side glance. The silence stretches on, and Paul waits for some sarcastic remark or joke at his expense.

“What? No snappy comment? No mocking barb about how I can’t handle a simple job?” He asks.

Reno shrugs, “No. Listen, if you don’t like being in small spaces, that’s fine. If it bothers you that much, just tell me next time.”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s not?”

Paul’s not sure why he’s talking about it, but maybe some part of him wants to talk to someone other than Hugh about it.

“When Osyrra…” Paul finds he can’t continue, so he shakes his head and tries again. “After all that happened, I… don’t like being in such a confined space that I can’t move or… escape.”

They look at each other, and Paul can see a myriad of questions in her eyes. As far as Paul knows, only Hugh and Tracy know what happened between him and Michael. Though he thinks people have started to notice the strain between them.

Reno, to her credit, doesn’t ask anything more but nods, “Okay. Everyone’s afraid of something; it’s normal. Me? I’m not a fan of silence. Things get too quiet I get the heebie-jeebies.”

Paul’s brows furrow with question, and she shrugs. “It might have had something to do with being stuck on a crashed ship with no one but yourself for company and no hope of rescue. It’s not so bad now; even at night, I can at least hear the engines running, and it’s… comforting. If I’m having a bad night, I’ll put on some music, something soft or a real headbanger depending on how I’m feeling.”

Paul is very aware that he and Reno are not the emotional types. Neither of them given to opening themselves up to just about anybody. He can sense just how much this simple admission from her really means.

“I’m not against playing music here if you ever need it. I think the others might enjoy it too.” Lorca never approved of something so frivolous, and music held too many painful memories for Paul back then.

Reno nods, and a faint smile skirts across her face, “And I’ll be sure to have one of the youngins’ do the crawlspace work. No need for us to risk throwing our backs out or getting stuck in a Jeffries tube… again.”

Paul sighs and rolls his eyes, “One time, and people refuse to let it go.”

She claps his shoulder, “Only because we, for some insane reason, love you.”

Chapter Text

“Since you don’t remember your mom’s name, maybe it’d be best we start with the ship you lived on?” Tilly suggests.

They’re sitting in Adira’s quarters, both off shift. Adira had tried searching for their mother in available databases. Still, it quickly grew frustrating since they didn’t even have her name or surname to go with. Paul suggested Tilly would be willing to help, and the older girl was good at seeing things that others missed.

“Lumina,” Adira says before realizing they’d spoken. They think for a moment, and yes, that does sound right.

Tilly types in the name, and the search algorithm launches full speed. It would take a while since Tilly suggested looking through Federation databases, spaceport records, and shipyard logs. Data flashed across the projected screen too fast for them to read.

“What was your mom like?” Adira asks.

Tilly stills and looks down at her hands, “She… um… she wasn’t… a nice mom. At least not to me.”

Adira blinked. Weren’t moms supposed to be kind and loving to their children? That’s what they learned through books and movies and even their own scarce memory.

“What do you mean?”

The ginger shrugs, looking downcast, and Adira wonders if they touched a sore spot. “She was… never happy with anything I ever did. Always pointed out my faults or shortcomings and never hesitated to compare me to my stepsister.”

“What about your dad?”

Tilly’s smile was melancholic. “My dad… he was the opposite of my mom. He encouraged me to be who I am and do what I love no matter what anyone says. Told me that trying my best would always be good enough. He would listen to me go on about the most obscure topics and not once get annoyed. He’d humor me and ask questions and be attentive.”

“I… haven’t remembered anything about my dad yet.”

Adira’s memories were staying infuriatingly out of reach, flitting away the second they got close. They only had one memory of their mother so far, and while it was nice, they craved more. What did she do for a living? What did she like? How did she and their dad meet?

“I’m sure they’ll come to you. You remembered your mom and weren’t even trying,” Tilly reassured.

“Gray said she painted. I guess art runs in the family.”

“I used to paint with watercolors,” Tilly smiled at the distant memory. “I haven’t done that in years, though.”

“How come?”

Another shrug, “My mother didn’t approve, no surprise, and after my dad died, I just couldn’t bring myself to paint.”

“If you started again, I bet you’d be really good.”

Tilly smiles warmly at the encouragement. Adira, as far as they know, has never had a sibling relationship. Gray had started out their friend, and that shifted to what they are now. He never felt like a brother. Tilly is undoubtedly a friend, though Adira feels that relationship shifting into something familial like with Hugh and Paul.

A chime sounds from the screen.

“Hey, we got something,” Tilly says excitedly. “Let’s see…”

She pulled up the crew manifest, an eclectic list of names ranging from Earth to Vulcan to Andorian to Trill and some Adira didn’t recognize. They typed in their name and took a deep breath before taping search.

A picture of a young dark-haired girl appeared.

Adira Charbonneau
Date of Birth: 3173.114
Status: Unknown
Sex: Female
Species: Human
Planet of Origin: Earth
Family: Viviane Charbonneau (mother) (deceased), Louis McKenzie (father)(deceased)

Beside Adira’s image was that of a familiar woman with black hair and gray eyes.

Viviane Charbonneau
Date of Birth: 3154.70
Status: Deceased, 3179.82
Sex: Female
Species: Human
Planet of Origin: Earth
Family: Adira Charbonneau (daughter), Louis McKenzie (partner)(deceased)

Adira’s shoulders fell. Tilly quietly sat beside them on the bed.

“Gray told me she died when we were young, but I guess I…” They sighed, “I hoped maybe she was somehow alive. It was stupid to hope that.”

Tilly shook her head, “Hope is never stupid. I’m sorry she’s gone, that they’re both gone.”

Adira nods and finds their eyes growing suspiciously damp. Was that memory of their mother the last time they saw her alive? They rest their head on Tilly’s shoulder.

“The good news is, though, now you know her name and your dad’s too,” Tilly speaks with a gentle surety. “They won’t be forgotten; they’ll be remembered by you.”

That was true, and perhaps Adira’s memories and experiences would pass on to Tal’s next host. In some tiny way, the memory of their birth parents would continue on. A tired smile crosses their face, “Yeah, and I learned my name too, Charbonneau.”

“It sounds French, maybe your family came from France? Oh, and we got your birthday too, now we’ll know when to celebrate next year.”

Adira’s smile grows a little stronger at Tilly’s positivity. Their birth parents are dead, but they still have a family. They have Gray, their dads, and big sister, and that’s all they need.

Chapter Text

“Why me?” Paul’s tone boarders on a whine.

“Because I went to the last one, the last three actually! Now it’s your turn, partner,” Justin argues. “You can handle one conference and I can stay here with the kids.”

Paul is too proud to ever grovel, but this is as close as he gets. “You’re better at this then I am. You’re good around people and far more charming with them then I am.”

Justin doesn’t buy it, “Talking to people might be my strong suit, but you are charming in your own sarcastic, caustic way and some people like that. Hey, think of it this way, a change of scenery will do you some good. New place, new sights,” he pauses and throws Paul a smirk, “new people.”

Paul sighs roughly, “I know what you’re thinking and absolutely not. I’m tired of finding someone and then… Look I have my work; I don’t need anything more than that.”

He sits down at a cluttered table, burying his face in his hands and trying to ignore the vicious ache in his chest. Noah really had seemed like the one, but clearly Paul had not been the one for him. Just like Cole before him and Isaac and… The pain in his chest shifted to his throat.

Justin sat beside him, “Okay, maybe it’s a little too soon to be thinking about that.” He gently nudged Paul, “But I do think being in a new place and away from anything that would remind you of that jackass will be good for you. At the very least you’ll have me and the kids when you get back.”

Paul turns away from his hands to shoot the other man a dry glare, “Boy, aren’t I lucky?”

The brunette scientist laughed and clapped his friend on the back, “If you can whip out sarcasm like that, then you’re not as down as you think you are. I hear Alpha Centuri is nice this time of year, it’s got the same feel as Paris on Earth. Quaint and charming with nice restaurants and cafés, you might like it.”

Chapter Text

I should’ve known. I should’ve done something. I should’ve… That’s all Tracy’s exhausted mind can focus on. A mantra of should-haves that she doesn’t have the strength to break out of. She grips the edge of the table to stay upright on her weakening legs.

The table holding the body of her friend. Paul’s pale skin nearly matches the white sheet draped over his body. It’s like Hugh all over again, except this time she’s now lost him and Paul. Adira and Saru are among the dead as well.

“I didn’t think you would…” Tracy hoarsely whispers. “Damn it, Paul.”

When Hugh had died the first time, Tracy had kept an eye on Paul, making sure he ate and slept enough and didn’t succumb entirely to his grief. It helped her too, having someone to care for, someone who was mourning as painfully as she was.

Discovery had beaten Osyraa and the Emerald Chain, but they failed to save those in the nebula. They failed to save Hugh, Adira, and their own captain. In the chaotic aftermath of the ship’s return, Paul had slipped away. I should’ve looked for him. I should’ve put a medical alert on his file after Hugh died the first time. But how could she have known? He never showed any hint of self-harm or suicidal ideation.

Until now.

Tracy pushed the sheet back and looked at his arm. Thin red lines against snow-white skin. Severed radial artery… severed brachial artery… exsanguination likely within minutes… sharp pocket knife found in subject’s hand… She pulled the sheet back up and smoothed the fabric out.

The only other mar on Paul’s pristine skin is the fresh bruise near his neck. A vivid blue-violet splotch, Tracy stares at it, feeling like she’s seen it before, fingers hovering over the wound. How did he…? Her musings are cut short when the door swishes open, and Burnham walks in. She looks as tired as Tracy feels and almost sympathizes with her.

“Doctor Pollard, I was… I was hoping I could…” Burnham’s eyes are shining, and Tracy can see her trying to marshal her emotions. Finally, she clears her throat, “Say goodbye.”

That simple request hits the doctor with a wave of strange cold anger. Pieces are clicking into place, and Tracy doesn’t like the picture she sees forming. Paul had been found in an emergency escape field, and the ship was gone. Paul would not have left the ship (left Hugh and Adira to die) willingly.

“Burnham, how did Paul get off the ship?” She had caught a glimpse of him but had been too busy to ask him. “He would never have voluntarily left, not with Hugh and Adira still in the nebula.”

“I used a Vulcan nerve pinch on him, but you need to understand I had to it.” Burnham looks ashamed, but that doesn’t mollify Tracy’s anger. “I had to get him off the ship, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He was going to jump back into the nebula I—"

“And maybe he should have!” Tracy roars. “At least then they wouldn’t have been left to die!”

“We would’ve lost to the Emerald Chain. The Federation would have lost. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. I had to do it.”

The logical side of Tracy understands that. The Federation is weak and struggling to get on its feet, and the Emerald Chain would’ve decimated them. However, her emotional and grieving side tells logic to fuck off.

“You had to. You had to forcibly remove Paul from the ship. You had to be a hero and beat the villain. You had to let Hugh, Adira, and Saru die.”

Burnham’s squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. Tracy couldn’t tell if she was denying her accusations or trying to shake off the guilt.

“Get out.”

The younger woman looks at her, “What?”

“I said get out!”

Tracy’s snarled order rings through the tiny sterile room. Burnham’s lips tremble, but she nods and leaves. Once alone, Tracy’s anger evaporates, and she falls to her knees. Tears fall hot and thick down her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her chest as heaving sobs rattle her body.

**********************************

Engineering is empty, not that Reno is surprised. The hour is late, and after all the excitement, people are probably sleeping. She sits at a console and takes a swig of whiskey. Reno doesn’t notice the taste, just the satisfying burn the drink leaves going down her throat.

Stamets was gone.

As much of a pain in the ass he was, Reno found herself missing him. At first encounter, he was a tightly wound priss and arrogant know-it-all. But that veneer slowly flaked off, and Reno saw a brilliant but grieving scientist underneath. Grief was a cruel bitch, and Reno could relate. Things got worse after Hugh returned, but thankfully the two men got their heads out of their asses and actually talked. The two were happy again and Reno, who’d rather die than admit it, was happy for them.

At least they’re together in whatever passes for an afterlife. She muses despondently and takes another drink.

She looks at the spore cube and wonders what they’ll do with it now that their human navigator is dead. Reno wouldn’t mind taking it apart with a sledgehammer and laser torch. Discovery had lost the key component to its unique propulsion system. Along with its captain, a doctor, and a brilliant little teenager.

Reno takes another drink only to find her glass is empty. She can’t remember if this was her third or fourth glass.

“Commander?”

The engineer starts at the quiet, broken question. Tilly is standing there, cheeks damp and gripping her arm. The kid looks so damn young and lost that Reno aches for her. On her first day aboard, Reno could clearly see a bond between Stamets and Tilly. A teacher-student kind of thing or even father-daughter at rare moments.

“Hey, kid, couldn’t sleep?” Reno’s voice rough from hours of disuse.

Tilly shakes her head slowly. The cool lighting in the room makes her look ghostly pale, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, even her curls looked subdued. She looks at the ground then up at the spore cube. Tilly bites down hard on her lip, and Reno can see her forcefully swallowing down her tears.

“I promised him… I promised we’d go back… we’d save Hugh and Saru and…” Tilly chokes out in a whisper. “He trusted me and I…”

Reno remembers. She remembers Paul’s panic when they had to jump away and Tilly’s understanding reassurance that they would go back for them. Reno realizes that Tilly not only has grief but guilt weighing on her too, and that wasn’t fair. A brilliant kid given a heavy job that went sideways in the worst way possible.

“You’re not just going to let her stand there hurting, are you?” Her wife, Aella’s, voice asks with a touch of gentle reproach.

She stands and pulls the young woman into a hug. Tilly doesn’t stiffen or show surprise at Reno’s out-of-character action; instead, she melts into the embrace. She cries, and the engineer strokes her curly hair in what she hopes is a soothing gesture.

“Kid, you did the best damn job anyone could have done. It sucks like hell how it all turned out,” Reno hears her voice getting thick. “And I know they’d still be proud of you.”

Tilly’s cries lessen after a few moments, and Reno wonders if there is anything else she can do. An idea comes to her, and she carefully pries Tilly away and beckons her to follow.

“Where are we going?”

“To the one person who’s probably taking this harder than we are.”

*********************************

After a hot shower that did nothing to alleviate the chill in her bones, Tracy changed into some comfortable clothing. A pair of loose pants, a worn t-shirt, and a satin kimono jacket. The latter had been a gift from Hugh after attending a conference in Tokyo for her after she unexpectedly fell ill and couldn’t go. Her favor ended up working out for him because Paul was planetside visiting family. The pair managed to spend that weekend together in Japan.

“I’ll accept this so long as you don’t tell me of any of your nocturnal escapades,” Tracy takes the small bag holding a pretty satin jacket.

Hugh grins, amused and mischievous, “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, “Knowing you two, you did far more than kissing.”

Her heart aches viciously at the remembered warm banter between them. She would never have that again, not with anyone.

A soft chime drew her attention to the door. “Computer identify visitors.”

“Commander Jett Reno and Ensign Sylvia Tilly.”

Curious, she opened the door to see the two women standing there and Reno holding a small tray of food. Both of them looked pale and careworn.

“Hey, not sure if you wanted company or not, but figure we’d check on you.” Reno gestured to the tray in her hand, “Brought some food in case you were hungry.”

Tracy wordlessly steps aside and lets them in. After a time, Reno is sitting in the armchair with a glass of gin in hand. Tracy’s father had given her a bottle as a belated birthday present before shipping out again. On the couch, Tilly had fallen asleep with her head on Tracy’s lap, and the doctor steadily, absently stroked her ginger curls. None of the women said much, just drank and nibbled on the food while wandering through their respective minds.

“They were going to get married,” Tracy nearly whispers.

“Hmm?” Reno looks up in question.

“Paul and Hugh, before the war broke out, they were planning their wedding. Hugh asked me to be the maid of honor, and Paul had asked his friend Justin to be the best man.” Tracy huffed a laugh at the memory, “God, Paul was so nitpicky about everything, drove us all up the wall.”

A sad smile crosses Reno’s face, “Culber was telling me about that; it was the one thing Stamets and my wife had in common.”

“They were going to try again. Hugh talked about having a ceremony on the beach in San Francisco. The whole crew would be there; Saru could officiate the whole thing since he’s the captain. Hugh even joked about having Grudge as a ringbearer. I told him as long as I don’t have to fight Tilly to be maid of honor, I was fine.”

“They pick a place to honeymoon?”

“It was either Italy or going all the way to Alpha Centuri where they first met.”

“We went to Risa like most couples,” Reno’s smile turned wistful. “One of the best vacations we ever had.”

They fall silent after that. Tilly murmurs and twitches restlessly in her sleep, Tracy resumes petting, and Tilly settles down.

“Do you think he meant to kill himself?” Reno asks quietly.

Tracy had been asking herself that same question. The evidence suggested yes, though she didn’t want to admit it. Doing so felt like it would make all of this real and irrevocable. As if Paul’s corpse didn’t already do that?

“I… can’t say for sure. It looks that way, but I don’t know.”

Reno doesn’t demand more from her vague and slightly evasive answer. Instead, she mulls it over and then says, “Not the way I’d picture him going. Given how neat and tidy he was, didn’t think he’d pick something so messy.”

The doctor suddenly wants to snap at the other woman but reins in the impulse. Discussing Paul’s death like this felt disrespectful. Maybe though, picking apart what happened was Reno’s way of processing it all. A knife made sense, Tracy supposed. If someone tried to replicate enough of a drug to overdose on, the replicators would deny the request and send an immediate warning to Medical. A phaser to the head would make a bigger mess and…

God, when did I get this morbid? Tracy downed the rest of her gin to wash down the bile creeping up her throat.

“It was messy, but gentle at least. He’d have lost consciousness within seconds, and… died in minutes.” And far too late for anyone to help him.

Chapter Text

Code Error

Adira let out a frustrated snarl at the blinking red words on the screen. They kicked the console as if that would make their program behave. Coding was complicated, but Adira had done more challenging tasks than this. It should be easy. They fell into a chair and dug their fingers into their hair. Gray was counting on them to find a way to make him seen. If the holograph program on the Khi’eth could do it, theoretically, it could be done on Discovery too.

But what if, for whatever reason, it couldn’t? What if Gray would never be seen again by anyone but them? What if he was stuck like this? They could see his growing loneliness, despite him trying to hide it. Adira tightened their grip on their hair. They were trying so hard and kept meeting nothing but dead ends.

“Adira? You okay?” Adira doesn’t look up at Paul’s approach.

“Fine, just another error in the hologram code. Another stupid mistake I made because I’m too stupid to do anything right.”

Paul wraps his arm around their shoulder and pulls them against his side. “You are not stupid; you are frustrated and burned out. You’ve been working non-stop on this for a week. Tell you what, let’s take a break, get some lunch and take a long walk.”

“I can’t. I have to finish this for Gray. He needs this.”

“Yes, but not if it means running yourself into the ground,” Gray advises. “I can wait a little longer. Go with Paul; you need a break.”

“You know you’re not alone in this, right? We are going to help both of you find a way for everyone to see and interact with Gray.”

Adira looks up at him, “But I thought you were busy with Tilly on that dark matter stuff and trying to breed that new species of mushroom and...”

Paul smiles down at them, “We will always make time for the things that are important to you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

No one liked being confined to sickbay, and Tilly would count herself among them. Brought down by an unexpected allergic reaction to foreign spores on an away mission, Tilly lies curled up in a biobed. Clogged sinuses, itchy throat, and sporadic coughing fits leave her feeling sicker than a dog. The doctors had devised a cure, but the medicine wasn’t instantaneous and required time to work. They also wanted to keep her for observation.

Hugh comes into view, smiling sympathetically, “Hey Tilly, how are you feeling?”

She lets out a hoarse groan.

He winces, “Still feeling pretty sick, huh?” He reaches for a nearby glass of water, “Try to drink to some water. Keeping your fluids up will help you feel better.”

Reluctantly, Tilly uncurls herself to sit up and drink. She downs half the glass, and Hugh gestures for her to finish it. She does and hands the empty glass back to him and curls back up under the thin blanket.

“I have to admit, you’re proving to be a far better patient than Paul ever is.” Hugh approves and gently tucks the blanket around her shoulders.

Tilly can’t remember the last time someone tucked her in. Maybe her dad, but certainly not since she was in grade school. Her mother never did; she’d leave Tilly to lie in bed and suffer.

“Do you want me to leave you to sleep?”

She didn’t feel tired, but she didn’t have enough energy to concentrate on working on her PADD. But she didn’t want to keep Hugh from taking care of other patients or something important.

“I’m not busy. I could read to you, take your mind off how sick you feel,” he suggested.

The ginger perked up and nodded, “Please? If—If it’s okay?”

He grabbed a PADD and sat down beside her. “Did you know there’s a sequel to Alice in Wonderland? It’s called Through the Looking Glass, have you read it?”

Tilly shook her head, having been so busy since arriving in the future she hadn’t had any leisure reading time.

“Alright then, chapter one. One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it;--it was the black kitten’s fault entirely. For the white kitten had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour (and bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it couldn’t have had any hand in the mischief.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sounds and smells coming from the kitchen drew Adira away from the animated conversation between Paul and Tilly. They and Gray listened mostly, too tired after a long day to contribute much to the discussion. Hugh was in the kitchenette, actually cooking by hand. Adira watched him move between stirring a bubbling pot to chop vegetables, humming all the while.

“What are you doing, er making?” They ask with some amusement.

Hugh looks over with a grin, “Cooking dinner, thought I’d make something using a family recipe and give you and Tilly a taste of my home country.”

Adira peers into the pot on the portable burner. “What is it?”

“Asopao, a staple in my family. It’s a kind of soup made with meat, rice, spices, and vegetables. It’s really versatile because you can use any kind of meat or veggies you want. I always liked how my mom made it, chicken with tomatoes, onions, and peppers.”

“Why are you making it this way instead of using a replicator?”

Hugh adjusts the heat, “The same reason you quilt by hand, I enjoy it, and food made by hand with love seems to taste better.”

Adira nods in agreement.

Hugh pauses, then looks at them, “Do you want to help? You can dice the tomatoes.”

“Um… okay?”

He places a plump tomato already halved on the cutting board and hands them a sharp knife. Then, gently, he takes their hand and guides them through the movements.

“First, you cut it horizontally into slices, just like that. Be careful not to get your fingers too close. I learned that lesson the hard way. Next, you cut the stripes crosswise, and there you go, you got it. Now you dump it all in the pot.”

Adira did, and he put the other half of the tomato on the board, “Now you try on your own.”

Dicing was a simple task but one they found a sense of accomplishment in. “Did your mom teach you how to cook?”

“She taught me a few things. She and my grandmother did a lot of the cooking, my dad did all the baking. He made the most delicious pan sobao and mallorca bread.”

“This actually looks like fun. I can’t wait to try,” Gray chirped, looking over Adira’s shoulder.

“Gray says he wants to try,” they say with a small smile. Another addition to the list of reasons to get him a real body or at least a corporeal holograph.

“I’m sure he’d be good at it, and then we can have the two of you cook for us.”

Adira’s smile widened, and they started to think over what they’d make.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tilly hid in a small nook, one of many in Engineering, with her head buried in drawn-up knees. Her first away mission to lead as First Officer, and she screwed it up. Sure, no one died, and they delivered the supplies, but how were they supposed to know the colony had been overtaken by smugglers and pirates. The mission had gone awry. Michael wanted to fight the aggressors and salvage the colony. But Tilly thought it better to save the colonists and move them elsewhere.

Michael didn’t take her disagreement well, and they fought over it.

That’s all they had been doing lately.

“Sylvia, you should know better than to argue with your captain. You can’t follow a simple order, can you? This is why you’re not fit for command; how can you expect to give orders if you can’t even follow them?” Her mother’s vicious sneer echoed in her head. Almost a millennia away, and her mother could still bring her down.

“Tilly? Are you alright?”

She peeks up and sees Paul looking at her, head tilted and brows drawn together in concern. Sniffing, she pulls everything together and gives him a wan smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… needed a break from,” she gestures vaguely. “Everything, but I’m fine, really.”

Paul seems to accept her answer, and his lips twitch up in a smile, “Well, is it alright if I sit with you here? Reno doesn’t usually check back here, and I need a break from her.”

That startles a laugh from Tilly, and she nods and moves over to make room for him. The silence is companionable and soothing between them. It reminded her of the times she and her father would be at the dining room table. She would be working on homework and him writing something for work. Those safe, peaceful moments gave Tilly the sense that all was right with the world.

“If you ever want to talk about anything, I’ll listen,” Paul says. Tilly looks at him questioningly, and he lightly snorts, “You’re down here instead of the bridge, and you look like you’re trying not to break down.”

“I screwed up the mission. We walked right into a trap, just like with Osyraa. I’m so stupid I should’ve known better.”

Paul set his hand on her arm, “You did not screw up. You got yourself and your team back in one piece. You did what you could with what you had and made the best of a bad situation.”

Tilly sniffles and rubs the tear tracks from her cheeks, “I just… I wanted to do well and… I wanted to make you proud.”

The last sentence came out as a whisper, but it was still heard. Paul paused, and Tilly wondered if she had crossed a line. But then he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her.

“We will always be proud of you. You’re brilliant and compassionate and…”

“Incandescent?” Tilly supplied, remembering their conversation way back when Paul had decided to leave.

He chuckled, “Yes. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, and I know you’re going to go even further. Of course, you’re going to make mistakes, we all do, but the important thing is to learn from those mistakes and not dwell on them. You are still an amazing officer and a wonderful young woman.”

Tilly felt tears come to her eyes for a whole different reason. She tightened her hold on him and murmured, “Thank you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Any idea what this is about?” Hugh asked as he and Paul walked into the cultivation bay.

“No idea,” Paul shrugged. “Tilly and Adira have been acting secretive lately.”

As they get closer to the designated corner of the cultivation bay they could hear two familiar voices.

“Do you think they’ll like it?”

“I think they will, and so does Gray.”

The two men exchanged intrigued looks, and Hugh asked, “Think we’ll like what?”

The pair jumped and whirled around, wearing comical expressions of surprise.

“Oh! Guys, hi guys, you’re here and uh…”

“Yes,” Paul draws out. “And why did you two invite us out here?”

Adira and Tilly exchanged looks and then stepped aside to reveal a set-up picnic. A colorful blanket was spread on the ground with drinks and plates of food.

Hugh smiled, “You guys set up a picnic? What’s the occasion?”

“Well…” Adira fidgeted with their fingers. “Since it’s Father’s Day, we thought we should do something because… you’re our dads and we…”

“We wanted to show how much we care about you and all you do for us, and… yeah,” Tilly trails off. “Is this okay? Like, we didn’t overstep, did we?”

Paul gaped, and Hugh looked equally stunned. Though in hindsight, perhaps they shouldn’t be since they were Adira’s fathers, legally speaking, and Tilly had always been close to them. Paul adopting Tilly, figuratively, had been a running joke that now seems to have become true. However, he found he didn’t mind either.

Adira had no memories of their father and Tilly’s had died before she even entered Starfleet. After everything the four of them had gone through together, was it really surprising that they would see them as parental figures?

“No, you, it’s…” Paul was having trouble finding words and his eyes wouldn’t stop watering.

“It’s perfect,” Hugh filled in.

Tilly and Adira visibly brightened. They each grabbed one of their hands and led them to the food-laden blanket, chatting excitedly. They ate and talked, enjoying the warmth of love and family.

Chapter Text

Hugh had been expecting to see his partner after shift (Paul had gotten much better at getting home at a decent hour). The doctor had not expected to see said partner sitting on the window seat holding a shot glass. A glass bottle of amber liquid sat on a nearby table with a lone-filled shot glass next to it. Paul was never really one to drink except for holidays or special occasions.

“Don’t tell me Reno finally drove you to drink,” Hugh half jokes.

Paul snorts, “She wishes.” His face sobers as he looks at the partially filled shot glass in his hand, “No I… It’s been two or I guess 932 years since we lost the Glenn.”

Hugh carefully sits beside him. Time healed the pain of loss, but the pain could still come back anew at any time, particularly on anniversaries.

“The actual date was last week, but I forgot until…”

He falls silent until Hugh gently prompts him, “What reminded you?”

A sad smile flickers across Paul’s lips, “Tilly and Adira. They were bantering, and it reminded me a lot of how Justin and I used to… be like that. Then I remembered it was November, and I looked at the date and, yeah.”

That’s what, or rather who, the untouched shot was for. A toast of remembrance. Hugh gets an idea. Wordlessly, he stands and replicates a shot glass and pours himself a bit of drink.

He holds up the small glass in a toast, “To lost friends, who will always stay with us no matter what happens.”

Paul catches on and holds up his glass, “And to the friends we have now, who remind us of the past and to keep heading for the future.”

They clicked glasses before downing their drinks.

“Brandy?” Hugh guessed by the sweet, faintly fruity taste, setting his glass on the table.

“Yeah, Justin gave me that for my birthday before the war broke out. It’s the only brand of brandy I like.”

Paul is silent for a few minutes before quietly saying, “I think he would’ve liked Adira.”

Hugh could believe that; Adira was hard not to like. “Yeah?”

Paul smiled wistfully as he toyed with his empty glass. “Yeah, he liked Tilly, and I think he’d like Adira too. He’d probably try to get them to call him uncle.”

The idea drew a chuckle from Hugh, “I could see that. What about Reno? You think they’d get along?”

The blond groaned, “Oh God, they’d get on like a house on fire. They’d be snarking at each other day and night and probably gang up on me too.”

Hugh turns and pulls his partner closer, settling him between his legs and wrapping his arms around him. Paul leaned back and relaxed against Hugh’s chest.

“You know they’d do it out of love.”

“Sure they would.”

The doctor smiles softly and rests his cheek against his partner’s silky blond hair. The pair sit in intimate silence, looking out the viewport at the stars. This talk of anniversaries of lost loved ones reminded Hugh of what next month was. How was one supposed to handle the anniversary of their own death? Did it even count now that Hugh was alive?

“You know next month is December, and I…”

Paul shifts, “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do. Ignore it, acknowledge it, spend the day together or not if you want space to be alone.”

Those were all valid options, and Hugh wasn’t sure what he wanted now. They had talked about his death and now it wasn’t so much of an elephant in the room. Ignoring the day felt wrong to Hugh, like it invalidated everything they went through. A passing acknowledgment might be better, taking note of what happened a year (or 931 years) ago but not letting it drag them down. Requesting that day off to be with Paul or on his own would be acceptable; those who knew probably expected it.

“I think since that was the day that we were separated, perhaps we should spend it by being together. Make new, better memories to replace the bad. We could take that day off and devote it getting reacquainted again and again.”

Hugh kissed Paul behind the ear and gently nipped, earning a sharp inhale from the man in his arms.

“That sounds like a good plan.”

Chapter Text

Paul awakes slowly to the feeling of sore muscles and a painful headache. He’s aware enough to know he’s lying on his side on a surface too firm to be his bed but soft enough to not be the floor. Cool, sterile-smelling air caresses his cheek. He feels a familiar warm hand gently holding both of his own. Paul carefully opens his eyes and sees Hugh sitting beside him, reading a PADD in hand.

“Hugh?”

The doctor looks up and smiles. Then, he reaches over and gently strokes Paul’s hair, “Hey, love, how are you feeling?”

Paul shifted and winced, “Fine, I think. Did something happen? How did… I end up here?”

A hesitant look crosses over Hugh’s face. He glances down at their joined hands and tenderly moves his thumb across Paul’s knuckles. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Paul blinks at the odd question. He sifts through his memory though it makes his headache worse. “I was in the spore cube; we had just jumped and…. Wait, did something go wrong with the jump? I didn’t send us to another alternate universe, did I?”

Hugh shakes his head, “No, love, you didn’t. We’re still in our universe. Anything else?”

Hearing he didn’t screw up, Paul relaxed slightly and then carefully pushed himself into sitting upright. “We jumped and… I woke up here. Hugh, what happened?”

His partner’s subdued manner was beginning to worry Paul. He could feel a subtle tension and anxiety coming from Hugh and that raised many warnings that something was very wrong. Even though it was likely something wrong with him, Paul wanted to reach out and comfort Hugh.

“You had a seizure after the jump.”

Paul blinked, stunned. I… what?

“After the jump, you collapsed and seized. Reno called for help and,” Hugh shook his head as if trying to shake off the image Paul could picture. “It lasted less than a minute, and there’s no sign of any damage or lingering effects. Tracy and I aren’t sure what triggered it.”

Hugh braces himself for the next part, “I know you won’t like this, but I think we should hold off on any jumps, save for emergencies, until we know more about what’s going on and how to handle it.”

Paul is still trying to process the fact that he had a seizure, something that had never occurred in his entire life. He felt perfectly fine before the jump, but clearly, he wasn’t given the end result. Would this be a regular occurrence after every jump? Or would it be random? Would he have seizures throughout the day, even without jumping? Were those jumps finally catching up to him? Was this a sign his brain was deteriorating?

He swallowed though his mouth was bone dry. “No, I… I agree. I… don’t want to go through that again, and I don’t…”

Want to seize during a jump, but Paul couldn’t bring himself to say that part. That was the most terrifying thought. What if his consciousness got stuck in the network again? What if they all got stranded in an alternate reality? Or worse, what if we spin out and end up like the Glenn?

Hugh seemed to read his thoughts. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Paul into a hug. Touch was the most effective way they drew strength and comfort from each other. Wrapped in Hugh’s embrace, Paul feels protected and loved.

They lean back slightly and rest their foreheads together. Hugh gently clasps the back of Paul’s neck, their eyes interlock, and Paul can read, can feel, the silent message in his partner’s eyes. I’m here. I’ve got you. I love you and we’re going to work through this together.

Chapter Text

The lab was a gentle buzz of activity, a soothing hum of commotion as people talked and worked. Paul normally found it comforting. The sound and feel of people engaged in studying and discovering new things. But he couldn’t relax, his leg was jumping, and his fingers were drumming rapidly on the table.

“Alright, what is the matter with you?” Justin asked, leaning his hip against the table. “You’re more jittery than a caffeinated chipmunk. How much coffee have you had today?”

Paul rolled his eyes at the metaphor and question. “I’ve only had one cup.”

“With extra caffeine apparently,” his friend muttered.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Bothering you is a part of my work. But really, is everything okay? An equation you can’t solve? Family issues? Hugh?”

Paul knew Justin well enough that he wouldn’t stop pestering Paul until he got the truth. Best to cut the pestering short and come clean. He covertly glanced around to see everyone engrossed in their respective duties. Though that didn’t mean much since many of them had mastered the art of eavesdropping while appearing productive.

“Hugh asked me to go to an art gallery with him at the Met in New York.”

Justin’s eyebrows rose a fraction, “Huh. That doesn’t sound so bad, I mean I know art isn’t your thing, but there are plenty of other things to do in New York.”

Paul sighed, “That’s not it. I… This is our third date and… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve gone on dates before; it’s nothing new, so why am I so nervous?”

“You love him,” Justin stated plainly.

Paul nearly choked on his breath. He whipped around and searched his friend’s face for any hint of mockery or trickery; however, all he saw was patient honesty.

“Paul, I’ve never seen you get this worried over a relationship with someone like this before. Hugh is different, and I’ve noticed the two of you… you really have a connection. You love him, and that’s why you’re so worried about messing up because you don’t want this relationship to end.”

Despite his cavalier and perpetually cheerful demeanor, Justin was cleverer and more observant than anyone Paul had met, or maybe it was just with him. Moments like this unnerved Paul, but not so much as the idea that he held such deep romantic feelings for Hugh. Sure the doctor was attractive, brilliant, and funny, and… Paul shook his head. No, love was messy, complicated, and painful. It’s a lesson Paul was not keen on repeating even with someone as patient and compassionate as Hugh.

“That’s… that’s just… no, that’s ridiculous. Even if I did have feelings for him like that, which I’m not saying I do; it wouldn’t matter. There’s… no way he’d feel that too, like ever. He’s brilliant, incredible, and kind and far, far out of my league.”

“Wrong!” Justin affably snaps. “Remember rule five.”

Paul raises an eyebrow, the sudden non sequitur not throwing him off for a moment. “Isn’t that one where we’re not allowed to have coffee in the lab after eleven?”

“No, that’s rule seven, and that’s more Ruby’s rule anyway. An unjust and absurd rule, really.”

Ruby, a Latina woman with an abnormal dislike of coffee and a penchant to wear flashy earrings. She didn’t bother to look up from her terminal, “If you two need caffeine that late in the morning, then you’ve got bigger problems.”

Justine ignored the barb, “Rule five is no self-deprecating talk in the lab.”

Paul looks unimpressed, “I thought those rules were more for the grad students and cadets?”

“Nope, they apply to everybody in the lab, which includes you. Look Paul, you may not like you, but Hugh clearly does.” A knowing smile spreads across Justin’s face, “Which I’m guessing scares you the most. Somebody truly loves you despite your prickly behavior and awkwardness. And you love him too.”

The two friends stare at each other, or rather Paul glares, and Justin looks back, unfazed.

“Either stop psychoanalyzing me and get back to work, or I will bury you alive out in the cultivation garden.”

“Try to help a guy out, and all I get are death threats,” Justin sighs with feigned hurt. Then, he sobers and says, “I know this might be impossible to ask, but try not to think too hard about it and just enjoy your date.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Art wasn’t Paul’s favorite subject, though seeing the excitement on Hugh’s face and hearing the passion infusing his voice could convince Paul otherwise. Hugh reaches behind him for his hand, and without thinking, Paul reaches out and grabs the proffered hand. When Paul does, he has two sudden, alarming realizations.

One, he was genuinely, irrevocably in love with Hugh.

Two, Justin was right.

Chapter Text

1.Emergency suturing with needle and thread (Saru)

Discovery was still in need of repairing even after their rescue from that parasitic ice. With Stamets out of commission and Reno’s own wounds still healing, she was restricted to light work and supervising. Since they had only a fraction of the original crew, everyone had to lend a helping hand or two, including those who typically didn’t work in Engineering like Saru.

The Kelpian’s height and strength were a valuable asset in moving broken equipment and reaching otherwise inaccessible places. It was disheartening to see the wreckage left and right and encouraging to see everyone working diligently together.

A sharp burning pain tears through his arm when he pulls it out of a shaft. Blood is already liberally soaking the fabric of his sleeve.

“Are you alright, sir?” A nearby ensign asks.

“Fine, just a scratch. From a sharp metal fragment, I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

Reno carefully stands up; even with painkillers still in effect, she can’t quite straighten her spine. She shuffles over to where he is, cradling his bleeding arm.

“Lemme see,” she casually orders and gently pulls close his damaged limb.

The metal had torn through fabric and skin, leaving a gash steadily bleeding dark pink blood. It wasn’t immediately life-threatening, though it could be soon enough if left untreated. Medical was packed overcapacity, he knew, but still…

She tugs his arm, “Follow me.”

Reno leads him to a lesser-used alcove for some quiet and privacy and gestures for him to sit. Bemused, Saru still sits on the ground, folding his long legs crosswise. She sits across from him and starts rummaging around in the numerous pockets on her person.

“I’m sure it would be best if I went to sickbay to have this treated.”

“True,” the engineer pulls out a tiny medkit. “But those folks are up to their ears in patients. Hate for you to get lost in the shuffle and be even worse off. I can give you a quick patch up so at least you won’t faint from blood loss.”

From the kit, she pulls out a thin curved needle and spool of thread. He watches her deftly thread the needle and unspool a length of thread and tie a knot at one end. Saru suddenly puts the pieces together and feels dread gnaw at his insides. Surely she can’t mean to sew him up like one does with a torn net?

Reno’s face, surprisingly, softens when she looks at him, likely seeing the apprehension on his. “Look, I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this before. It’ll be quick and, if you don’t move much, relatively painless.”

Taking a chance and deciding to trust her, he cautiously hands her his arm. Reno peels away the tattered, blood-soaked sleeve and rolling it up to near his elbow. Grabbing a few squares of gauze from her kit, she gently wipes the blood away though her efforts prove futile since more wells up in place. None of that seems to bother Reno, her face a placid mask of concentration.

“I’ll try to be gentle, but I need you to try not to flinch too much,” she requests while still keeping her eyes on his wound.

The engineer doesn’t wait for a response and slides the needle and thread through his skin. It’s painful, but not so much as he expected. The procedure is admittedly fascinating to watch as Reno adroitly wields the needle, pulling it fast but gently through his tissue. Stich by stich his wound is sealed shut and bleeding has stopped. Reno finishes up by looping and tying off the remaining thread on the last stitch.

“There you go, done.”

Saru marvels at the neat row of stitching. He slowly twists his arm, feeling a slight tug on his skin with the movement.

“How did you learn to do this?”

“Experience,” she replies curtly.

He’s about to ask again when he remembers where Reno had been, what she had done before coming to Discovery. He surmises that she must have had to pick up many skills an engineer wouldn’t normally need.

“Thank you,” it seems too simple, but he hopes his tone conveys his deep gratitude.

Reno shrugs, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “You look out for each other; it’s what you do on a ship.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
2.Setting and stabilizing a broken bone (Tilly)

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… and God, I’m such a stupid klutz and—”

“Kid, you’re the one who’s hurt, not me, so you can stop apologizing.”

Tilly is sitting on a thick, curved tree root while Reno scavenges around for something. The away mission was less a mission and more of a chance for people to get off the ship to leisurely explore and breathe fresh air. She and Adira had planned to stick with Paul and Hugh. However, seeing the older men leaning closer together and their touches hinting at becoming intimate, she pulled Adira in the opposite direction while promising to meet later.

They hiked for a while and even encountered Reno, who agreed to walk with them. Things had been going great until Tilly stepped on a bit of ground that gave way and sent her tumbling down. Adira ran back for help, and Reno carefully climbed down the slope to where Tilly lay with bruises, bumps, and a broken arm.

“Besides, Stamets will probably make me apologize for you getting hurt on my watch. The man is a damn papa bear when it comes to you and the other kid.”

Tilly’s lips curl faintly upward at the observation. Adira should have found him and Hugh by now and hoped they were on their way. Tilly’s arm pulsated painfully, and she tried to breathe slowly and focus on anything else. There was nothing else except watching Reno continuing her search for something.

“Hmm, this could work,” Reno pulls a slab of pliable bark off a nearby fallen tree. Next, she grabs handfuls of springy moss from the ground until she has a sizeable pile.

“Okay, kid, here’s what we’re going to do,” she kneels down by Tilly and pulls off her jacket. “The bark is gonna act like a brace, and the moss here will cushion your arm. Not a good idea to let a broken arm hang loose, plus it’ll keep your arm from getting anymore hurt. We can use my jacket as a sling.”

Reno is doing all of that while explaining. She curves the bark and shoves the moss inside. Then carefully has Tilly rest her injured arm in the nature forged cradle. The ginger had to admit resting her arm on something soft and not focus on keeping it still felt great. Reno slid her jacket underneath the bark and then tied the sleeves around Tilly’s neck.

“There, that should hold you until the kid comes back with your dads and you can get proper care.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

3.Hypothermia (Adira)

The water from the liquid cooling system is freezing.

And Adira had just been doused with it while trying to repair what they thought was a minor leaky pipe. However, once they removed the paneling covering the pipe above them, they were hit with a gush of ice-cold water. Adira jumped back, wiping water from their eyes, and hit the shut-off valve.

Reno walks in carrying a tool kit, takes one look at the water dripping from the ceiling and a sopping wet Adira. “Found the leak, huh?”

Adira swipes at their hair, clinging to their forehead, “Yeah.”

“Should be an easy enough fix provided there aren’t any more pipes with problems.” She looks at Adira’s wet clothing, “I can fix this if you want to go change.”

Adira shakes their head; teenage stubbornness and subconscious drive to prove themselves capable keep them from doing what is probably sensible. “I’ll be fine; it’s just the one pipe, right?”

One pipe turns into two, then three, and ends up being five. Adira isn’t sure how the cooling pipes got to be this damaged but resolves to review the architectural integrity of the ship. The space they’re working in is a cooler temperature than most other places on the ship. It’s nearly impossible to have a ship’s environmental settings where all crewmembers are comfortable. What some called warm, others called freezing, and vice versa. However, the general temperature was tolerably warm for humans and humanoids.

But down here to what was nicknamed the “basement” of the ship, it was far colder. At least it felt that way to Adira, but their wet clothes might be making them feel colder. They’re shaking, and their fingers are numb and refuse to work right. Adira clenches their jaw to keep their teeth from chattering. They felt tired too, like they’d been working strenuously for hours rather than the light work of the past hour.

“How are you doing over there, kid?”

“F-Fine,” they stuttered out.

“Kid?” Reno walks closer. “Shit, you’re shaking, and your lips are turning blue. Here, I’ll trade you my jacket for your wet shirt.”

Adira balks, and Gray blinks, “Uh… did she just tell you to strip?”

Sensing their trepidation, she sighs, “Listen, you’re on your way to getting hypothermia. I can turn around if you want.”

Adira knows the older woman is right, but that doesn’t mean they have to like it. They unzip their jumpsuit down a bit, peeling off the damp fabric and tying the sleeves around their waist. Then, wordlessly, they take the proffered dry garment and put it on. The jacket is slightly too big, but most importantly, it’s warm, and Adira revels in it.

Reno smiles just a little, “Come on, you can sit next to me for warmth while I finish fixing the last pipe.”

Adira does so, curled against her side for extra warmth and watching her work. The scene triggers faint memories of something similar, memories from both Adira themself and one of the Tals. They rest their head against her shoulder, and without looking up, Reno wraps that arm around them.

“Alright, that should do it,” Reno slides the last piece of paneling back into place. “C’mon kid, time for a coffee break. Well, coffee for me and hot chocolate for you.”

Adira stands and wrinkles their nose, “I can have coffee.”

“Yeah, I’m not taking the chance of you over caffeinating. And we can get you in some dry clothes, for that matter,” Reno snorts and puts their arm back around their shoulders.

The gesture might be to keep Adira warm, but they still enjoy it and think Reno does too.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

4.Seizure (Paul/Hugh)

In hindsight, Hugh will remember he can tap his badge and transport to Engineering. All he thinks of now, though, is the last time he was called down for an emergency. Pierced chest cavity. Blood. Paul struggling to breathe. Hugh clamps down on those unhelpful thoughts and shoves them away. The place is quiet, everyone there waiting to see what is going to happen next. Paul is lying on his side on the floor of the spore cube, Reno kneeling next to him.

“What happened?” Hugh’s voice comes out harder than he intended, but Reno doesn’t bat an eye.

“He had a seizure the second the jump ended. Lasted about forty seconds, hit the floor in a dead faint, and he started jerking and twitching.”

Hugh presses two fingers behind Paul’s jaw and feels the reassuring, if not rapid, pulse. Of course, he can use his tricorder for such a measurement, but nothing beats feeling the proof that someone is alive. Small tremors and twitches still shake Paul’s body.

He lightly runs a hand through blond hair, “Shh, it’s alright, love, it’s okay. It’ll stop soon. You’re going to be alright.”

Paul’s brows weakly furrow but smooth out at the sound of Hugh’s voice and feel of his touch. The faint shakes stop, and he looks almost peaceful like he was sleeping and not riding out the vestiges of a seizure. Hugh notes that Paul’s body is arranged in the recovery position with an arm tucked beneath his head and leg bent. He looks up at Reno, who hasn’t moved from her spot and calmly assesses Paul.

“This has never happened before, has it?” Reno asks slowly, looking up at him.

Hugh shakes his head, voice choked off by the growing panic at what this might mean.

“Thank you for staying with him and helping,” he manages.

The woman shrugged, “I didn’t do much.”

“You stayed with him, didn’t panic, and knew to put him in the recovery position once the worst had passed.”

Reno looks slightly uncomfortable at the praise. Hugh wonders if she picked up any medical know-how from working on the Hiawatha since it was a medical ship. Or did all personnel on ships like that get emergency medical training?

“Thank you again.”

“Yeah, well, just take care of him. Bobcat is a pain in the ass, but one I know we can’t live without.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

5.Concussion (Tracy)

Her head feels like a spike is being mercilessly pounded into it. Everything is black. Her sense of balance was gone and replaced with the feeling of tumbling like being caught in an ocean wave. A roaring like the sea fills her ears too. Tracy wonders why if she isn’t wet if she can hear and feel the waves.

“—llard! Pol— acy!” A voice tries to cut through the clamor.

It takes seconds (Minutes? Hours?) before Tracy realizes that everything is black because her eyes are closed. Her fingers brush the firm dirt ground she sits on and uses that to fight through the unsettling undulation. Finally, with an effort, she pries her eyes open to see Reno sitting in front of her, clasping Tracy’s shoulder.

“Wha—” Talking takes too much effort, so she settles on just staying conscious.

Reno sighs in relief, “Thank God, for a second there, I thought… Never mind. Some terrorist bastards bombed the building next to ours and caused a cave-in; we’re stuck until the others find us.”

Discovery had traveled to a colony in need of supplies and aid (one of so, so many). Tracy decided to accompany the team since she was getting cabin fever and to give Hugh a break. (She could see Paul’s nerves fraying a little bit each time Hugh was gone.) Reno and some of her engineers came to help with structural problems.

However, not everyone was happy that Starfleet came knocking. Particularly, the ruling class (Tracy used the term lightly) weren’t thrilled about help coming to those they were extorting. So naturally, they retaliated violently.

Reno gently grips Tracy’s chin and tilts her head up slightly. The motion sends a wave of vertigo crashing through her, but she breathes through it and wills herself not to vomit.

“I can’t tell what your pupil looks like from the lack of light here. Tell me, do you see one of me or two?”

“Jus’ one,” Tracy mumbles.

“Okay, can you feel your limbs?”

The doctor flexes her fingers and toes, feeling relief that those are in working order. “Yeah.”

“Good, you don’t have any open wounds save for a cut above your ear.” Reno moves to sit beside her and takes off her own jacket, folding it into a pillow and putting it on her lap. “Here, you’ll feel better lying down, and if you pass out, I won’t have to worry about you falling over.”

Tracy knows Reno’s right, but moving is very much something she doesn’t want to do. She sucks in a breath and slowly the two women work together to maneuver her down with her head pillowed on the other woman’s lap.

“I always… nag Hugh to be safe on away missions.” Tracy lets out a faint laugh, “I’ll never… hear the end of it now.”

“It wasn’t your fault some bastards tried to blow us to hell. Though I don’t think I’ll be leaving the ship any time soon after this. Getting way too old for these kinds of shenanigans.”

Tracy smiles in agreement.

Chapter Text

If asked, Tilly would honestly say she’s happy for Paul, Hugh, and Adira.

But if she looks deep down at the dark parts that everyone has but never wants to admit, she’d say she’s jealous and scared.

Jealous that Adira worked their way into their hearts so quickly and easily. That Paul and Hugh see them as their kid already and made it official. True, part of that was to keep Adira on the ship and Trill from taking them, but that pragmatic bit is lost in her torrent of emotions.

Scared that she is going to be replaced again. With Adira being younger and so much more intelligent, curious, and innovative, Paul will Tilly to the wayside. Just like her mother did with her stepsister, Lilliana. Trading Tilly in for someone better, smarter, or prettier.

She tries to ignore her petty emotions and pathetic fears, especially when she sees Paul’s pleased smile at Adira and compliments them. It doesn’t matter. She’s First Officer now and one step closer to reaching her dream of becoming captain. She doesn’t need Paul’s notice or approval.

But a tiny, hidden part of her profoundly craves to have that warm parental attention directed at her.

That craving only grows when Paul brushes off Tilly, though he pays full attention to Adira.

Or when Paul proudly mentions some problem Adira solved.

Or when Hugh and Paul are talking to Adira while they eat and seem to forget Tilly is even there.

Tilly tries to focus on work, balancing her new duties with the old, and forget that Paul doesn’t need (want) her anymore.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Tilly, you coming with us to dinner?”

She looks up from her display to see Paul and Adira near the stairs, looking at her expectantly. The sight of them close together ties a painful knot in her chest.

“No, you-you guys go ahead, I’m not hungry.”

The other two exchange a look, and Paul asks, “Are you sure? We haven’t eaten together in a while.”

Tilly knows that’s true because she orchestrated it. Piling on assignments and commitments, so she had ready excuses not to join them for anything outside of work. She didn’t want to intrude on their happy little family. But she also didn’t want to be someone who was included only when convenient either. She’d had enough of that growing up.

She couldn’t stand the look of concern Paul was giving her and looked away. “I’m fine, you go eat, and I’ll… go check on the spore saplings.”

It takes an effort not to sprint to the cultivation bay, but she manages a quick, normal pace. The smell of damp earth and leaves is a stark contrast to recycled air and metal in Engineering. The nursery was a small sectioned-off part of the bay towards the back. The baby spores didn’t need to be checked on since Tilly had done so in the morning, though it was nice to sit somewhere secluded. Sinking to the ground, she pulled her legs close and rested her cheek on her knees.

“Oh, grow up, Sylvia! You can be such a child sometimes…”

“Why can’t you be more like Lilliana? At least she doesn’t embarrass me…”

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true, so stop overreacting.”

Tilly screws her eyes shut and tried to push away her mother’s frosty voice. Stop it, shut up! You’ve been dead for centuries. Why can’t you leave me alone?

“Tilly?” Her head is turned away from him, but she still catches the worry in Paul’s voice. She hears dirt shifting as he sits down beside her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, try again, kiddo.” Then he sighs, “Tilly, don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding us. We don’t eat together anymore or talk as much, and it seems like you’re withdrawing from us. I just want to know why.”

“Why do you even care?!” Tilly snaps louder than she intended. “Why do you care when you have Adira? Someone far smarter and far better than me.”

Realizing she yelled at a superior, a cold shame washed away her hot anger. She slaps a hand over her mouth as if that could undo her words. Paul blinks in stunned silence for a beat.

“Tilly, I care about you, and I always will. Did you think because Adira is here now that I don’t anymore?” His voice is low and gentle, with no hint of reproach or condescension.

“My mother did.” She muttered into her knees. “After she remarried, she acted like my step-sister was more her daughter than I was. Lilliana was smart, pretty, and popular. She was all the things I wasn’t, could never be. So she replaced me and…”

From the corner of her eye, she can see Paul putting the pieces together and then when it all clicks.

“And you thought the same thing was going to happen again.”

Hearing it out loud, her fear sounded even more foolish. Her face burned in embarrassment, and her eyes stung with pooling tears. Tilly couldn’t suppress a flinch when Paul slowly wrapped his arms around her and drew her close.

“I am so sorry if I ever made you feel like you were being replaced. I didn’t realize how much attention I was giving Adira and how little I was giving you.”

The hug was a startling yet welcome surprise. Tilly wound her own arm around him and burrowed her face in his shoulder.

“Not your fault,” she mumbled while shaking her head. “I’m… I’m just overreacting, and it’s stupid and…”

“No, it’s not,” Paul softly countered. “You went through something traumatic. And now, to you, it looked like it was going to happen again. You’re not overreacting, and there’s nothing stupid about how you feel.”

The knot in her heart loosened. This was the kind of patient understanding her dad always gave her. The gentle validation and reassurances went far in soothing the raw edges of Tilly’s emotions and fears.

Paul carefully leans back and brushes some of her curls away from her face. “You’re a part of this family and having Adira in it won’t mean less for you, but more.”

He then looks over her shoulder, and a tiny smile appears. “You know, I haven’t had a chance to really study how the new sprouts are doing. Maybe we could grab some dinner in here and work together on getting data on their growth rates?”

“But,” Tilly dries her cheeks. “I thought you were going to have dinner with Hugh and Adira. You shouldn’t skip out on that because of me.”

“I’ll send them a quick message and I’m sure they’ll understand. We’ll have plenty of meals to share together, all four of us, like maybe breakfast tomorrow, for instance?”

Catching the hint, Tilly smiles and nods.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come back? I’d rather come back now instead of later and find you dead.” Justin’s concerned face fills most of the PADD screen, which Paul has propped up on his nightstand.

Paul musters up a glare despite his flushed cheeks and ruddy nose. “I’ll be fine; it’s just a cold. Besides, I’ll probably recover faster without you here to annoy me.”

Justin rolls his eyes and snorts, “If you can still be sarcastic, then you might not be that sick. Please take care of yourself though.”

Paul waves off the comment, “I will, don’t worry. Tell Jackie and Josie I said hi.”

His research partner was on Earth visiting family, particularly his triplet sisters Jacqueline and Josephine. Paul had planned for Hugh to come visit him on Deneva in the meantime for some intimate reacquainting. But his immune system had lost the fight against the cold virus ravaging their department. So Paul had sent a message to Hugh canceling their plans once he realized he wouldn’t win this biological fight any time soon.

“Okay then, I’ll see you later.” The call ends, leaving a blank screen.

Paul burrows deeper under the blankets with a pitiful groan. He feels hot and cold, with a sharply pounding headache. Mucus has settled in his lungs and congealed in his sinuses, making the simple task of breathing an effort. His throat burns as if rubbed raw with sandpaper and set on fire. His joints and muscles ache with the slightest movement.

At least there’s no one here to see me looking so pathetic and gross. Paul tries to fall asleep with that hollow comfort in mind.

He sleeps fitfully, slumber broken by sporadic coughing fits, and has to settle for lightly dozing. The sound of a key turning in the lock at his front door rouses him, though. Only two people have keys to his apartment. Paul glances at the clock and sees it’s been less than two hours since he talked to Justin, and there’s no way he could’ve gotten here so fast. Which means…

“Paul?”

Shit, Hugh. Didn’t he get Paul’s message? Or maybe he didn’t send it soon enough?

“In here,” he tries not to cringe at how raspy his voice sounds.

Hugh sets his travel bag by the bedroom door and sits at the edge of the bed near Paul. The doctor gently brushes back Paul’s hair, then lays the back of his hand on his forehead.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Paul nearly purrs at the soothing touch. He blinks and gently bats Hugh’s hand away. “I’m fine; it’s just a cold. What are you doing here? Didn’t you get my message?”

“I did,” Hugh gave a casual shrug. “And decided all the more reason for me to still come. Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?”

His appetite had fled along with his sense of smell, so he shook his head. “No, I don’t need anything, just sleep. Look, I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to come all the way out here. I don’t think I’ll be up for any of the stuff we had planned this week.”

Now it’s Hugh’s turn to blink, “I didn’t come because I felt like I had to, but because I wanted to. I knew you’d be feeling miserable and wanted to help you however I could. We can still spend time together even if you’re sick.”

Paul felt more heat rise to his cheeks. I don’t deserve this man. None of his previous boyfriends had been this attentive or even willing to be around Paul when he was ailing. Paul didn’t mind, though and actually preferred it that way. He never felt lonely or neglected at all. No one liked being sick, Paul least of all. He hated how vulnerable and weak he became, how pitiful… And he didn’t want anyone to see him like that.

Yet here was Hugh, who still came despite Paul being sick. Sitting close to him, checking his temperature, and asking what he can do to help.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” he mumbled.

Hugh’s smile always sends a little thrill through Paul’s heart, and this time is no different. “Don’t worry about me. I’m exposed to all sorts of things daily, I’ll be fine. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can get you?”

Paul wanted to ask if Hugh would lay in bed and hold him, but that sounded so… clingy. He didn’t need to be coddled. All he needed was rest.

“I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” Hugh rose and pulled the blankets up around Paul’s shoulders. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

He gave Paul’s hair one last stroke before leaving. Paul tried to ignore the aches and pains plaguing his body, including the aching desire to have Hugh come back.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It started off as a minor itch in his throat that evolved into chest-rattling coughs. Every inhale Paul fought for seemed to only exacerbate his hacking. He pushed himself upright then doubled over. His heart beat faster in growing panic as his spasming lungs couldn’t draw in enough air. Without air, he couldn’t call for help, not that there wasn’t much Hugh could do, but Paul didn’t care.

He felt a steady hand settle on his back and another gripping his shoulder.

“Easy there, love, it’ll pass. You’re going to be alright,” Hugh murmured.

Slowly, Paul felt his aching chest settle and cough abate. The episode left him feeling drained, and he slumped against Hugh. For a fleeting moment, Paul wondered if that was going too far, and Hugh wouldn’t be comfortable with someone so sick so close. Instead, Hugh winds his arms around Paul, gently hugging him and lending him strength. Paul felt a hand gently stroking his hair, and he could’ve fallen asleep right there.

“Better?” Hugh asks.

“Yeah,” he winces at the hoarse sound of his voice and how it grates his irritated throat. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I didn’t… mean to start coughing I.…”

Hugh rests his hand against Paul’s forehead and then his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize for being sick. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”

The question is simple, yet it baffles Paul. Hugh has proven time and again how incredible and considerate he is. His behavior could just be par the course for who he is, but Paul still doesn’t get it.

“Why… why do you care? Why would you willingly spend your leave taking care of me when you could be doing something far better? I’m not worth.…”

He hangs his head both because it feels too heavy to hold up, and he doesn’t want to see whatever expression is on Hugh’s face. Paul is used to being alone when he’s sick and fending for himself. It’s been ages since anyone has cared this much about how he was feeling and wanting to help.

There’s a beat of silence, and Paul wonders if Hugh is going to leave. Logically, he knows Hugh wouldn’t do that, but his fever has scrambled his senses a bit. He feels Hugh gently cup his jaw and tilt his head up until they’re looking at each other. Paul sees love and concern in Hugh’s beautiful dark eyes.

“I love you, and I’m not going to let you be sick and uncomfortable alone. I care about you so much, and I want to be here for you. So I’m not going to leave just because you’re feeling a little under the weather.”

“You… you mean that?” Paul hates how fragile his voice sounds, but he can’t help it. He fears to hope that what Hugh is saying is genuine. That maybe this is all just a fever dream and not real.

However, the surety in Hugh’s voice dispels any uncertainty. “I do.”

They hold each other’s gaze, and Hugh still has his hand on Paul’s face, his thumb gently caressing his cheek. Paul closes his eyes and savors the contact. All his aches and discomforts feel distant with Hugh here, banishing them away with a simple touch.

“How about you take a shower with plenty of steam. That’ll help loosen the congestion in your chest and open your sinuses.”

Paul didn’t want to move from this comfy position, but a shower did sound very tempting. The chance to scrub off dried sweat and soothe his airways was a welcome idea. Hugh grabbed a clean set of clothes and helped him out of bed. The world swayed, and Paul had to lean against Hugh to stay upright.

Once sure Paul wasn’t going to fall over, Hugh left him to shower. Shucking off his old clothes, he stepped into a steamy shower stall. The warm, damp air eased the soreness in his throat and chest. He carefully scrubbed his skin as if he could wash the sickness off. Afterward, he dries off and dresses, feeling more human.

There’s a fleeting feeling surprise at seeing Hugh still here, finishing fixing the bed. The sight is so… domestic, and he feels his love for this man double. The little things like this involved in living together; he wants to share all of that with Hugh. Their relationship is only a few years old and mainly spent long-distance. However, Paul feels with resolute certainty that this is what he wants.

Or maybe that’s his fever talking.

He takes a step, and the floor tilts dangerously. Hugh grabs him and, before Paul can protest, sweeps him up in a bridal carry. Paul actually squeaks and wraps his arms around Hugh’s neck.

Hugh chuckles at his reaction, “It’s okay, love. I’m not going to drop you.”

“I know that. I just… I can walk on my own.”

“Well, think of it as me helping you conserve your strength so you can fight this cold.”

Paul sees right through the thin reasoning, “Any excuse to carry me, huh?”

“Oh honey, I don’t need an excuse,” Hugh lays him down and pulls the sheets over his legs. “Now, stay there while I get you something to eat.”

Despite Paul’s protests, Hugh coaxes him into drinking chicken broth and eating some slices of toast. After clearing away the dishes, Hugh settles in next to Paul and holds out his arm. Paul hesitates, but Hugh patiently waits until Paul decides to accept the silent offer of comfort. He rests his aching head on his partner’s broad chest, enjoying the soft lulling sound of his heartbeat. Long, slender fingers thread through his hair and tenderly massage his scalp.

Paul feels himself losing the war on consciousness. His eyelids grow heavier with each blink, but he fights to stay awake and enjoy this quiet moment.

Hugh must sense that, for he says quietly, “Go to sleep, love. You need your rest; I’ll stay right here with you.”

With that reassurance, Paul gives in and sleeps.

Chapter Text

The Celastrus Azuleri was a beautiful fungal specimen, at least in Paul’s opinion, and he couldn’t wait to study it. The plant was a mushroom despite looking like a cross between a lotus flower and rafflesia. The soft blue and white petals curled inward. Paul had only seen pictures of it in textbooks, rare to find and rarer to keep alive. Luckily modern technology paired with Paul’s innate skill for mushroom cultivation would help keep it alive.

Tilly and Adira were standing behind them, watching over his shoulder. They stood still and breathless as they watched him transfer the plant from container to ground. Then, with precise, careful movements, Paul cradled it and gently deposited it in the already dug hole. He sighed with relief, as did his two assistants, and he buried the roots, patting the soil as if making sure it was comfortable.

Paul leaned back with a smile, “Well, I think that was a successful transplant, don’t you guys?”

“Looks like it, one down and a dozen more to go,” Adira said.

“Exactly,” Paul stood up and brushed dirt off his knees. “Let’s see if we can get them all cataloged and plant before dinner.”

Adira and Paul walked off to where the rest of the plant specimen containers were. Still, Tilly stayed behind when she noticed movement. The petals were slowly unfurling, revealing a violet center and matching pistons.

“Hey, guys it’s—ah!” Tilly’s words were cut off when the plant sprayed her with a burst of pollen. She spluttered and sneezed at the offending dust.

Paul turned around, “Tilly, what’s the… Tilly?”

He saw a pile of her clothes on the ground and something moving in that pile. A small head capped with wild red curls pops up, her blue eyes widen in confusion as she looks around.

“Tilly?” His voice is a few octaves higher than normal. Adira comes up beside him and drops the canisters in shock at what they see.

The little girl (Tilly, it has to be. Who else has hair that red and curly? Paul thinks) pulls the now too large uniform around herself and shrinks.

“C-Can you help me? I think I’m lost,” her voice is soft and small, and Paul’s heart almost breaks.

Adira looks at him, and their face screams, what do we do? Unfortunately, Tilly doesn’t seem to recognize them, so the first step should be getting her to medbay and find what exactly happened and how to fix it.

Paul slowly kneels down to her level, “Sure, we’ll help you, but um do you recognize either of us?”

Tilly looks at Paul, then Adira, and shakes her head. She appears fearful and close to tears.

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” he quickly reassures her. “I’m Paul, and this is Adira; we’re friends.”

She sniffles and nods hesitantly, “Okay.”

“We’re going to do two things. First, find you some clothes that fit, and second take you to medbay so my partner can help us.” Paul cringes inward. Hugh is going to love this.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You know, I’ve read about a few cases like this, but they usually involved transporters, not plants,” Hugh says carefully.

His eyes move between the display screen and the little girl sitting on the bed. Every reading and test result pointed to the same conclusion; this was their Tilly. Albeit a six-year-old version, but still theirs. Paul had managed to procure a smaller version of her uniform, and Hugh fought not to gush over how adorable she looked. Tilly was oddly quiet as she observed her surroundings and everyone in it. Hugh wondered if she had normally been like this as a child or if she was just confused and scared by what was happening.

Paul massages the bridge of his nose, “So what do we do?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me. I don’t know anything about this plant.”

“Neither do I,” Paul tries to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Celastrus Azuleri is very rare to find and even rarer to keep alive long enough to study.”

Adira asks, “Well, we can keep it alive now, right? We can get a sample of the pollen and figure out how this,” they gesture to Tilly, “happened.”

Tilly’s little brows furrow, “Am I sick?”

“No sweetie, it’s… it’s complicated,” Hugh assured her.

Her face morphed to a dissatisfied pout, “Why do grown-ups always say that when I ask stuff?”

Hugh looked at Paul for help, but his partner could only shrug helplessly.

Adira cuts in, “The truth is you got sprayed with some weird pollen that turned you into a kid. You’re actually a lot older than this. It’s the 32nd century. Well, you guys are from the 23rd and came to the future while I’m from this century. We’re on a ship called Discovery, and you’re the First Officer; that’s like second to captain.”

Hugh and Paul gape at them. Paul chokes out, “Have you no tact? Do none of your past lives possess an ounce of tact?”

They shrug, “Isn’t it better to be honest? What happens if you lie to her, and she finds out the truth and freaks out?”

Hugh admits Adira has a point. Tilly cants her head and squints her eyes, studying Adira.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” She asks as though that could be the most offensive thing anyone could do.

“No,” their answer is honest, and Tilly seems to accept it.

She looks back at Hugh, “You’re right; it is complicated. Am I going to stay small forever?”

“We… don’t know,” Paul said, taking Adira’s point about being honest. “But we will figure it out, I promise.”

“So if you guys are going to be busy doing that, who’s going to watch Tilly?” Adira points out.

An unsupervised six-year-old aboard a ship was a disaster waiting to happen. Paul and Hugh share a look, and a conspiratorial smile crosses both their faces.

The astromycologist asks, “Adira, have you ever babysat before?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

No, the answer is no. Growing up, they and Gray had been the youngest on the ship. It was them that were babysat, not the babysitters. Adira had no clue what to do with a much younger version of their surrogate sister. Hugh and Paul had them stay in their quarters for the time being since they had more room. Tilly slowly walked about, taking in the living space.

“You can approach her, you know. She’s not going to bite,” Gray teases.

“I know, but what am I supposed to do with her?” Adira whispers.

He shrugs, “Maybe something like the older kids used to do with us? Play games, watch a holo, or oh, I know, what about arts and crafts?”

The last suggestion triggers a memory of them and Gray as young children sitting at a table. Paint-covered hands holding brushes and smearing globs of paint across sheets of paper. A new (old) memory and Adira carefully files it away to examine in detail later.

“Hey, Tilly? Do you want to do an art project, like painting or something?”

The little girl fidgets, “Mother says art is messy.”

Adira shrugs, “Yeah, but that’s half the fun.”

She still looks unconvinced and looks around as though the woman was going to suddenly appear.

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I’m sure,” Adira says, replicating art supplies.

Various colors of paint, brushes of different sizes, thick paper, and glitter for good measure. They set everything up on the dining table, which Tilly can only reach by kneeling on the chair. She takes a brush and leaf of paper but still seems hesitant. Adira demonstrates by taking a brush, dipping it in paint, and running it across the paper. Tilly watches fascinated and then copies Adira’s actions on her own paper.

“She is so cute,” Gray gushed. “And so are you especially when you act like such a good older sibling.”

Adira smiled slightly and corrected, “I’m the babysitter, not an older sibling.”

“Most older siblings are the babysitters,” his face then softens. “You are really good at it.”

Adira feels themselves blush and shoots him a grateful and exasperated look.

“Who are you talking to?” Tilly asks.

They start and see Tilly holding her paintbrush and looking at them expectantly.

“Uh…” Adira’s head whips to the chair Gray’s sitting to Tilly. “I was talking to… my boyfriend Gray.”

She looks at the empty chair then at Adira. Her voice isn’t accusatory or deriding when she asks, “Is he imaginary? Oh, or is he invisible?”

“No, he’s….” Adira was about to say ‘it’s complicated’ but then remembered their own advice about being honest. “He was Trill. Do you know anything about the Trill?”

“They’re the people with the spots, right? Like leopards!”

“Right,” though Adira had no idea what a leopard was. “He had a symbiote, but then Gray died, and now I’m the symbiote’s host. It carries the memories and experiences of all the past hosts and somehow I can see Gray.”

Tilly seemed to seriously think this over. “Can other Trill do that? See past people?”

“No, I think we’re a special case, maybe because of how close we were.”

Solemnly, Tilly nodded, “You had a special bond. Can Gray see us?”

“Yeah, he’s sitting in that chair.”

Tilly smiled and waved, “Hi, Gray. I’m Sylvia Tilly, but everybody calls me Tilly.”

Gray squealed with delight, “Oh my God, she is so cute!”

Adira chuckles, and Tilly looks at them with curiosity. They clarify, “He says hi too and he thinks you’re cute.”

Tilly smile and then looks down at her picture. “Can I make another picture?”

Adira looks at the clock and sees they’ve time before meeting Hugh and Paul for lunch. “Sure, why?”

“I want to make a picture for Gray,” Tilly explains while pulling out another leaf of thick paper. “What’s his favorite color?”

Gray looks close to tears and Adira answers, “Blue, any shade of blue.”

They paint in peaceful silence, trading snippets of conversation and smiles. Once finished with her picture, Adira sets it aside and tries to clean up the mess.

“Ready for lunch?” Tilly nods and takes their hand.

Adira stops, though with an idea. They smile and crouch down with their back to Tilly and lace their hands behind them. Another memory of them and Gray as small children riding the backs of the older kids as they all raced down the corridors.

“We could walk, or you could travel in style. Hop on and I’ll give you a ride.”

Tilly looks confused, but soon her face illuminates with realization, and she happily climbs up. Adira secures the tiny legs around their waist and tucks their hands beneath Tilly.

“Ready?” The little ginger nods, curls vigorously bouncing. “And away we go!”

Childish laughter echoed as they zoomed down the halls.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After lunch, Paul agreed to take Tilly for a bit. He and Hugh were still running tests on the pollen samples, but those results would yet be a while. So he took her to the cultivation bay (and far from the alien specimens) to plant new stella spores. Tilly would be the perfect helper since her now smaller hands could dig the exact sized holes. That, and what kid didn’t like to play in the dirt?

Tilly is prattling on as they walk, and Paul finds it adorable. Her brain is clearly running faster than her tongue and she stumbles over her words. Even at this age she still has that same infectious effervescent attitude regarding science and learning. Suddenly she clams up and stops in her tracks. Paul stops too and looks at her with mild worry.

“Tilly, are you okay?”

Her head is bowed, and shoulders hunched like she’s expecting a reprimand.

“I’m sorry. Mother says I talk too much, and I shouldn’t talk about stuff I know nothing about.” Then her voice turns even smaller, “She says no one cares because I’m a kid.”

Not for the first time, Paul wishes he could give Siobhan a piece of his mind. He stows that irritation away, lest Tilly get the wrong impression. Paul kneels down and gently nudges her chin, so she’ll look at him.

“I care. Tilly, you are a very bright young lady, and your mother is wrong. You know so many things and I love how you like to share all that knowledge. It doesn’t matter that you’re a kid. I want to hear what you have to say.”

Tilly looks at him with painfully hopeful eyes. Paul wonders if Tilly (the older version) talked so much was because she felt comfortable enough and without fear of being punished.

“Really?”

Paul nods: he stands and takes her hand, “Can you tell me more about that flower? Hyperion, was it?”

Tilly’s face light up again in excitement, “Yeah, it’s found on Gaia II and only blooms when the sun is out. And—”

Paul listens, nods along, and asks questions or comments as she talks. They don’t end up planting the new spores but instead walk around the bay talking. She proves to have an insatiable curiosity that Paul is happy to satiate.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s late by the time Hugh makes it back to their quarters. He thinks they’ve isolated the compounds responsible for Tilly’s transformation, and a cure was being synthesized. However, it wouldn’t be ready until morning or later. He yawned and stepped inside to see a mess.

Paul was asleep on the couch, one arm tucked under his head and the other dangling off the edge. Adira sat on the floor with their head resting against the side of the couch, also asleep. Tilly was the only one awake, sitting in a blanket fort and watching something on a PADD. She noticed Hugh come in and held a finger to her lips.

“Shh, they’re sleeping,” she whispered, pointing to the other two.

Hugh smiled and nodded in understanding. He sits down beside her, and she quickly snuggled into his side. There’s an animated movie playing on the PADD screen with a girl with hair like Tilly’s carrying a bow.

“Did you tire them out?” Hugh asks quietly.

She glances at the sleeping duo and then at him. “Huh, I guess I did. Do I have to go to sleep too now?”

He smiles and brushes back some of her hair, “We can finish the movie first, then get ready for bed.”

She nestles more comfortably against him and goes back to her movie. Hugh is busy reveling in the family life of all this. A life Hugh never thought he’d ever get to have. While it turned out differently than what he and Paul had envisioned, he was still grateful. Two incredible kids, he was proud to call his own and a man he loved with all his heart all here together.

Chapter Text

Tracy was not the type of person to interfere in other peoples’ lives. Extenuating circumstances notwithstanding, if someone wanted to make a stupid decision, well, that was on them, not her. She wasn’t anyone’s mother and thus felt no obligation to interfere.

Hugh was different though. He was like the brother Tracy never knew she needed. She did have a younger brother, but the sixteen-year age gap between them made bonding a little difficult. She and Hugh met during the second semester of their first year at the Academy. Brief conversations became longer, they studied together more often, and commiserated over the joys and hardships of their future careers.

In between classes and homework, they occasionally dated other students. Tracy flirted here and there with the rare hookup that eventually led to a breakup for one reason or another. Those hurt, but what hurt more was seeing Hugh getting dumped. It baffled her that someone wouldn’t want such a compassionate, brilliant man, though maybe she was biased. Either way, they would wash down their sorrows together with glasses of their favorite proverbial poison.

He was a good man, and she was not going to stand by and let him be hurt. So each time Hugh met someone new, Tracy took it upon herself to warn them about harming Hugh. Veiled threats spoken casually paired with frosty, intense eyes were enough for prospective suitors to take the hint.

She’s reasonably sure she’s responsible for at least two breakups that happened not long after she gave them the shovel talk.

Hugh doesn’t know about her little conversations with his partners to the best of Tracy’s knowledge. The latest one, a blond and awkward scientist named Paul, will be the latest recipient.

The three of them are having lunch at a quiet café when Hugh ducks inside for coffee and dessert. Paul is fidgeting and trying to his discomfort at being left alone with her. While she studies him with cool, assessing eyes and revels a bit in his discomfort. Hugh has been talking about this guy nonstop while smiling like a lovesick schoolboy. Part of this lunch date was to find out why and if he was worthy of Hugh.

Since she doesn’t have much time before Hugh returns, Tracy goes straight to the point rather than leisurely interrogate.

“So is Hugh just a quick fling for you or are you serious about him?” She says without preamble.

Paul starts at her sudden and intense inquiry. “Pardon?”

“You heard me. Do you actually care about Hugh, or is he just some passing entertainment until something better comes along?”

She focuses on making her eyes cold and hard, fixing them on Paul. To his credit, he doesn’t squirm or look away. Instead, he stares back, face in a determined frown.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I honestly do care about Hugh. I’m not the type to get involved with someone only to walk away.”

His tone strikes Tracy as genuine, and she’s starting to believe him though she doesn’t let her face show that. Instead, she toys with her fork, pirouetting the utensil on its tines.

“If you are telling the truth, then I will say this,” she pauses with her fork. “If you end up hurting Hugh intentionally in any way, I will take you apart. As a doctor, I know how to with minimal effort but maximum pain for you. If you have no plan to be true to Hugh, then I suggest you walk away now while your legs still work, and you have your manhood.”

Paul gulps but doesn’t run away, neither does he call her crazy, or sputter out some inane, florid excuses about how much he loves Hugh. Tracy can appreciate that, so she decides to let him off easy.

She shrugs, “That’s only if you hurt Hugh; otherwise, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Some of the tension in his shoulders deflates, then he narrows his eyes at her. She raises an eyebrow at his silent studying of her but says nothing.

“You really care about Hugh, and he’s been hurt before, hasn’t he?”

“Yes and yes.”

Paul nods slowly as though her answer confirmed something. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, even if you’re a bit intimidating.”

Tracy snorts, “You should see me when I have to cow a superior officer into getting medical care.”

That draws a laugh from Paul just as Hugh is coming back, hands laden with coffee and pastries.

He sets the foodstuffs on the table and taking his seat beside Paul. “I hope you guys were behaving yourselves while I was gone.”

She nabs a chocolate chip scone from the plate, “Of course, we were just having a little talk, getting to know each other, that’s all.”

Chapter Text

Despite his persnickety and caustic attitude, Paul attracted a lot of romantic attention. Personally, Justin thought it was those baby-blue eyes of his that did the trick. Paul normally brushed such advances off, but he would pursue a relationship with someone on the rare occasion. Justin would tease him about his latest beau and how enamored Paul was acting.

Paul was a man of deep feeling, Justin knew, and he also knew that Paul did not open himself to just anyone. And when that privilege was bestowed upon someone, and they used it to break his heart, Justin couldn’t help but feel for him. It was depressing to see a friend’s heart fractured and chipped away. So, Justin would do his part to keep Paul from losing what remains of his heart.

And if that meant throwing out hinted threats and plans for their demise, well… who was he to complain?

Paul doesn’t know, or Justin would’ve gotten more than an earful for his well-intentioned meddling. He never acted on his threats, no matter how tempting after they dump Paul. Nor did he while Paul was dating despite how ill-suited his friend’s partner was.

Though the jury was still out on Paul’s current beau, Hugh.

Justin had yet to meet the man in person but given how Paul’s face softened from talking about the guy, he must be important. Paul would blush and try (and fail) to dodge the questions whenever Justin asked about him, piquing his interest even more. Justin finally gets his chance when he least expects it.

Justin is busy typing out his observations on a sprouting strand of stella he has in front of him when someone speaks up.

“Uh, excuse me?” He turns around to see an attractive man standing near the door. “I’m Hugh, and I was told I could find Paul Stamets here.”

Justin’s eyebrows shot up at realizing that this was Paul’s Hugh. This was the guy his best friend was dating and being so secretive about. Even though his inclinations leaned towards women, he could still appreciate a striking man. Paul, buddy, you’ve been holding out on me.

“Oh, so you’re Hugh.” He rises and holds out his hand, “Justin Straal, pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, you’re Paul’s research partner, aren’t you?”

“So Paul’s talked about me, eh? All good things, I hope,” he saves Hugh from answering by going on. “I’ll go grab him from the cultivation garden.”

The cultivation garden is akin to a greenhouse with dirt floors and shelves packed with plants and supplies. Wide windows allow for maximum amount of natural sunlight for their mushroom children. Paul kneels in the dirt with four other cadets standing around as he points out something on a large fungal specimen. Paul will deny it, but Justin can see how innate teaching is for him.

“Paul, your boyfriend is here.” Paul stiffens, and Justin decides to have a little fun, “And you failed to mention how gorgeous he is. Are all Starfleet doctors like that?”

He tries (and fails) to hide his smirk at seeing Paul’s whole face flush. The cadets exchanged amused glances, and Justin knows the gossip will be flying through the grapevine before lunch.

“T-Tell him I’ll be right there,” Paul bites out.

He walks out, grinning, back to where he left Hugh, who is politely trying not to get in anyone’s way. Then, casually, he reclaims his seat, “He’ll be out soon, little busy teaching the cadets.”

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Nothing that can’t wait, but you know while we are waiting, I was hoping to talk to you.” He pulls a small stasis jar closer, “Does Paul ever talk about some of the mushrooms we study?”

“Sometimes, why?”

The jar holds two umbrella-shaped mushrooms with brown and green stripes. “Caitian reaper, deadly to both Caitians and humans. Often confused with the Caitian morel, which is pretty tasty when sauteed. But if you eat this one instead, you can expect your kidneys and liver to shut down within an hour and the rest of you not long after.

“Now, Denobulan webcaps those you don’t want to mess with. Their poison can eat through any organ it passes through, stomach, intestines, you name it. Basically turning your organs into soup. They’ve been used in assassinations because of how they have no taste or smell, perfect for discreetly killing your enemies.”

Hugh swallowed, “I didn’t know mushrooms could be so dangerous.”

“Yeah, but only if you hurt them like trying to eat them. Otherwise, they’re fairly harmless.”

Justin sees the realization click in Hugh’s eyes, the subtext sinking in. “If you don’t hurt them, they won’t hurt you?”

“Pretty much.”

“And you’ve never….” Hugh’s dark eyes dart from the jar of Caitian mushrooms to Justin.

Clever doctor. He idly toys with the container, “I came close once, but no.”

In all fairness, it was because Justin noticed hand-shaped bruises on Paul’s arm. But the scientist reigned himself in and chose a less murderous form of payback. It ended up with Paul getting dumped but better than more bruises.

“For what it’s worth, you won’t have to worry about me giving you a reason. I will never hurt Paul.”

Justin hides his surprise with a raised eyebrow, “I never mentioned Paul.”

“No, but why else would you bring up deadly mushrooms while talking to your friend’s date?”

A very clever doctor, well Paul always did like the smart ones. “Touché, Doctor though I hope you’re right about not hurting Paul. You honestly do seem like a nice guy, hate for things not to work out.”

Before Hugh can answer, Paul comes out of the garden room. He sheds his lad coat and grabs his bag. He presses a quick peck on Hugh’s cheek. Justin’s eyes went wide at the sight of Paul giving affection in public. Of all the men he had seen his friend date, not once did Paul ever kiss or hug them in front of others. Wow, you must be real special Hugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Justin wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

“Me?” He holds his hands up in mock defense, “Never. I was just making polite conversation.”

Chapter Text

Paul slips away after the ceremony with the intent to go to his quarters and tear off the constricting stately uniform. He never really cared for formal occasions (though seeing Hugh in a suit always made it worthwhile), but this one felt particularly uncomfortable. Likely because it was all for her even after everything she did to him… Paul bites his lip and fights to temper his emotions. He had been doing that all day and felt exhausted.

“Paul? Aren’t you coming to the party?”

His heart skips half a beat when he hears Adira’s question. They’re wearing the same gray formalwear as him, and they look adorable but grown-up.

“Uh… sorry no. I’m… not one for parties, and I’m tired.” It’s not that bad if it’s only half a lie, right?

Disappointment sags Adira’s shoulders, and Paul almost retracts his excuse. “Oh, okay.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Adira gives him a half-smile and nods, “Okay, tomorrow then.”

They part ways, and Paul feels marginally bad about disappointing them. However, he doesn’t think he could stand to be in the same room as her right now. His emotional control was fraying, and he needed to be alone, to rest before having to shove all his issues aside and face everyone again like nothing was wrong.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul was in bed and tightly curled up on his side by the time Hugh came home. He stayed still, keeping his eyes closed and breathing steady hoping to fool his partner he was asleep. Paul resisted the urge to roll over and watch him slip out of uniform and into his bedclothes. Hugh slid under the covers and nestled himself next to Paul.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, “Hey, are you feeling okay, love? Adira said you skipped out on the party because you were tired.”

So much for faking it. Though it shouldn’t surprise Paul since he could never get much past Hugh. His gentle touch and concerned voice made Paul want to turn around and tell him how he really felt. To let go and tell him everything.

Stop it; you know he’ll agree with Burnham. The needs of the many outweighing those of the selfish few. That’s why he stayed behind. Hugh’s choice was still a sore spot, but it paled to the damage Burnham’s choice inflicted. Do you think your feelings mattered when there was something much bigger at stake?

“Paul?”

He swallowed, choking back everything and pitching his voice to sound neutral. “I’m fine, just tired.”

Hugh sighed, and luckily for Paul, didn’t press any further, “Okay, but you’ll tell me if something’s wrong?”

“Yeah.” No. Hugh ordered the lights off and laid down, staying close to Paul but not cuddling like normal. Paul stared at the dull gray wall, now unable to sleep. Clearly, I have not learned my lesson about lying to Hugh. It’s not like this is going to affect my physical health. I’ll be fine after a while; I just have to keep it together until the worst blows over.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After being together for over a decade, Hugh knew when something was wrong with Paul. The past week being rife with examples. Lately, Paul would stiffen whenever Hugh touched him instead of relaxing. He was eating less or skipping meals entirely. At night, he slept restlessly and would sometimes be gone by the time Hugh woke. Hugh watched helplessly as Paul withdrew from not just him but Tilly and Adira.

The younger two looked to him for help, but he could only shrug, confused as them. Paul wouldn’t talk to him despite promising he would. Was Paul angry at him for staying behind and giving Michael a simple message to pass on? Or did something else happen that Hugh didn’t know about? Looking back, his choice may not have been the best one. However, his drive to help others had outweighed any personal misgivings. He could have died and forced Paul to bury him again.

“Do you think any of us could handle losing you a second time? Do you think Paul could handle it because I don’t.” Tracy’s questions from before the mission echo in his head.

Maybe he should confront Paul. Normally, when anyone tried that (Hugh included) Paul would dig in his heels or become reticent. However, being patient and giving him space didn’t seem to be working. Sometimes a harsh push was needed to set matters in motion and resolve whatever was going on.

He chooses a late hour when he knows almost everyone will be gone from Engineering. The main floor feels solemn without people working and bustling about. Paul sits alone at a terminal, head resting in his hand and listlessly staring at his screen. He looks worn down, and Hugh fights the instinctive need to comfort him.

“Come on Paul, time to pack up for the day and come home,” he keeps his tone light.

No need to get Paul defensive right away. Hugh always tried for more gentle diplomacy rather than anything blunt.

Paul sighed and massaged his forehead, “You go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

That excuse (and its many iterations) was something Hugh constantly heard during their first few months together aboard the ship. True, there was a war going on, but Paul still could have tried harder to be around more. Now there was no excuse for him to be working late hours and away from home.

Hugh leans back against the staircase railing, “I can wait.”

Paul’s glare is half-hearted, and he stands from his seat. The slight wobble in his stance doesn’t go unnoticed by Hugh, who almost reaches out to steady him.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to talk to me.” Like you said you would.

Paul stubbornly purses his lips, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Bullshit. Hugh pitches his voice to sound calm, “Yes, there is. I know something is wrong, and I want to help. You’re not sleeping well, barely eating, and you’ve been withdrawing from people. Please, love, talk to me.”

Paul works his jaw, and Hugh can see some kind of internal struggle going on in his eyes. Finally, Paul turns away. “Can you drop it, Hugh? I’m fine.”

“Paul, please, no you’re not if you’d just—”

“Hugh, don’t.…”

Hugh reaches out and grabs Paul’s shoulder to keep him from walking away.

That was a mistake.

Paul whips around and slaps Hugh’s hand away, “Damnit, Burnham, don’t!”

Both men freeze. Hugh blinks in shock, and Paul is looking at him with fear in his eyes. He sees Paul isn’t looking at him, though, rather some memory that’s been triggered. Paul seems to snap back and takes a quick step away from Hugh. He’s paler, and his breathing is slightly hard.

“Paul?” Hugh asks gently.

He moves slowly as if approaching a wounded animal. Paul blinks and holds out his hand to stop Hugh’s tentative advance. There’s an aching pain intertwined with panic in Paul’s eyes.

“Please just…” Paul chokes out. “You once asked me to give you space; now I’m asking you to do the same for me.”

Every fiber of Hugh’s being aches to reach out and hold Paul. As a doctor and partner, he yearns to ease his love’s pain, to heal his raw and bleeding wounds. But the plea in Paul’s voice and the way he stands (shoulders pulled in, body poised to run, and hand held out) make Hugh think twice. He hates it, but maybe heeding Paul’s request is the best choice.

“Okay, if… if that’s what you want. Just… please remember I’m always here for you.”

Something unidentifiable flits across Paul’s eyes. His body relaxes slightly though Hugh can still see he’s prepared to dart. Hugh returns to their quarters and crawls into bed alone. He’s only a little surprised and mostly hurt when he wakes and realizes Paul never came home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A week goes by, and Hugh does his best to respect Paul’s wish for space. It’s a little tricky given they live together, though Hugh takes Paul not moving out as a good sign. He wants space but clearly not that much, so maybe there’s hope. They don’t speak much, and he always tries to be patient and understanding whenever Paul is near, letting him set the pace. It’s frustrating and discouraging feeling this helpless, and Hugh tries not to let that show.

Tilly calls him down to Engineering one day, and Hugh fights not to panic. She doesn’t sound distressed, but he can’t help but worry since it’s about Paul. Tilly and Adira are standing near the closed cultivation bay doors when he arrives.

“Is everything okay?”

The young pair share an anxious look. Tilly fidgets with her fingers, “Paul went in the bay after talking with Michael, and now the doors won’t open. He… he looked angry like… like he did whenever he had to talk with Lorca.”

Tilly’s use of Paul’s first name and mention of Lorca ratchet up Hugh’s concern.

“That was almost an hour ago, and we’re worried and….” Adira trails off, but Hugh gets their meaning.

He gently nudges them aside and enters the medical override code. The code acted as a skeleton key, able to open any and all doors on the ship no matter the level of security. It was for medical personnel to get in anywhere someone might be in an emergency.

Access Denied flashed on the screen.

What? That was impossible. The bay was one of the few places on the ship with the highest security, but Hugh’s code should still have granted him access. He tries again, and the same message appears. Hugh was both impressed and concerned that Paul managed to pull something like this off.

Hugh tapped his badge and brought up Paul’s stats. One of the beauties of medical advancement in the future is his being able to call up anyone’s health status in real-time. The feature only gave him the basics such as temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and respiration rate without using a tricorder on the actual person. All of Paul’s stats appeared normal, which alleviated some of Hugh’s worry.

He stepped up to the door and laid his hand on the cool, smooth metal separating them. Paul was literally shutting him out. Hugh couldn’t figure out why and it hurt him to no end. He rested his forehead on the door.

“Paul… please let me in. I know you’re hurting, and I want to help, but I can’t unless I know what’s wrong.”

There’s silence, and Hugh fears his plea has gone on unheard. On the other side, Paul sits with his back against the door. He tightens his arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees and tries to ignore the ache in his heart. The pain in Hugh’s soft entreaty hurts him so much. Paul can’t bring himself to look at him, let alone speak, for fear that the fragile glass wall keeping his emotions at bay would break. That he’d tell Hugh everything, only to be told that his own feelings were wrong. Everything turned out well, and Paul had no right to what he was feeling.

Paul buried his face in his knees and tried to breathe through the emotional turmoil. There was no other sound except for his breathing and the dismal fears echoing in his head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If Hugh couldn’t get answers from Paul, there was only one other person. He should’ve done this sooner, but he was hesitant to pry further into what was clearly a sensitive issue. One that was driving Paul to isolate himself and caused some kind of rift between him and Burnham.

So maybe if Paul wouldn’t talk, she would.

He goes after his shift to talk to Burnham, who is in the ready room. The door swishes open before he can get close enough to activate the sensors. Paul strides out, looking furious, jaw and hands clenched. The scientist walks straight past Hugh, no acknowledgment whatsoever. Tilly comes out next and starts at seeing Hugh. She quickly skitters past him, almost in fear. Surprisingly, Booker follows and gives Hugh a nod in greeting with a smile that looks more like a grimace.

“Hugh?” Burnham stands in the doorway, looking far more composed than those who just left. “Can I help you?”

Hugh is tempted to back out and say no. That protective instinct is pulling him towards Paul again. But he swallows it down, telling himself this is more beneficial in the long run.

“Can we talk?” He asks. “I know something happened between you and Paul when Osyraa hijacked the ship. He won’t tell me anything, so I was wondering if you could.”

She sighs and gestures for him to come in, “Have a seat, then.”

Fifteen minutes later, Hugh is walking back to his quarters in a daze. He steps inside and sinks into the couch, burying his face in his hands. Everything Burnham said is still reeling in his mind.

“It was the right choice, the only choice I had. He wouldn’t listen.”

“For the sake of everything, I had to get him off the ship.”

“It ended up for the best. He’ll accept that I was right and stop being sullen about it. Just give him time.”

That’s not the point. Yes, she saved his life. However, Burnham assaulted Paul, her friend, with a Vulcan nerve pinch, shoved him in an emergency field, and blew him out into space. All the while letting Paul believe she was going to let him, Adira, and Saru die. Little wonder Paul was angry with her, but that still didn’t explain his aloof behavior with everyone else.

Hugh heard Burnham’s side, now he needed to hear Paul’s. He stood from the couch and started walking to the one place he knows his love will be.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

True to habit, Paul is in the cultivation bay. Tilly is at her workstation though she’s doing more fretting than working. When prompted, she explained that Burnham and Starfleet asked for Paul’s spore drive research, and everything related to it. For safekeeping supposedly and for Booker to familiarize himself in case he needed to be used as a backup navigator again.

(“He gave her everything. He didn’t even try to put up a token protest.”)

Hugh knew Paul was protective of his research (many scientists were), especially after the war. Paul had been incensed at how his work was weaponized and vowed to never let that happen again. Seizing his research was how it all started. Hugh can only imagine the old feelings of panic and powerlessness that must’ve been triggered in Paul.

To Hugh’s surprise and relief, the bay doors open after keying in his code. Rows of stella stand tall at their varying heights. Specks of glowing spores drift through the air like lazy fireflies. Hugh could see why this place would give Paul a sense of peace. Speaking of whom, Hugh found him sitting by a sectioned-off area where he was growing some new stella crossbreeds. Paul sat with his chin propped on one hand and the other gently touching the branches of a small teal shrub.

Hugh approaches him from the side, and Paul gives no indication of having noticed him. The doctor takes a moment and picks out details he hadn’t noticed before. The faint flush on Paul’s pale cheeks, the tenseness of his shoulders, and the glassy, exhausted look in his eyes.

Paul sighs and lowers his hand, “What is it, Hugh?”

So much for not being noticed. He sits down beside his partner. “I talked to Burnham, and she told me what happened between you two.”

Paul stiffens as though expecting a blow, “And?”

“And I want to hear your side.”

He gives a sharp scoff at that, “My side? There is no my side. Everything she told you is true; what could I possibly add?”

“Your perspective, your thoughts, your feelings on all of it.”

Paul springs to his feet, and impulsively Hugh grabs his sleeve. He will not let Paul walk away from this, not when it is clearly eating at him.

“Let go.”

“Not until we talk about this. I know you’re hurting and—"

Paul whips around, but the motion elicits an intense wave of vertigo, and he nearly falls over. He feels Hugh’s strong arms wrap around him and lowers them both to sit on the ground. Sitting sideways and pinned to his chest, Paul weakly tries to break free, but Hugh only holds on tighter. Strangely, Paul doesn’t feel any panic like he expected to at being restrained, only acutely aware of how exhausted he feels. Hugh is murmuring something, but it’s his warm cadence that soothes him.

Every word, every touch, and every inhale of Hugh’s scent fractures the glass wall holding back every ugly, painful emotion. First one tear, then another, and finally the wall breaks. Paul grips Hugh’s jacket as the tears fall and his breathing shudders. Hugh continues to speak softly and gently strokes Paul’s hair. That gives Paul something to grasp as feelings of pain, anger, betrayal, and grief crash through him.

“I thought you were going to die,” he chokes out past his tears. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t lose you again.”

Hugh holds him closer, “I know, love, I know. But I’m here now, and I’ll stay here if you want to talk or not.”

Haltingly at first, Paul walked him through what happened. Hugh stays primarily silent, only speaking gentle reassurances or coaxing Paul to continue when it seems he can’t. He keeps his face calm, but he does gently tighten his hold on Paul or press a kiss to his hair.

“I-I know I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Burnham did the right thing and saved everyone; I should be happy.”

“Emotions aren’t right or wrong. You have every right to feel whatever you are feeling. You don’t need a reason. And Burnham,” Hugh sighs, “even though her intentions were good, she still hurt you.”

Paul tiredly slumps against him. “It doesn’t matter; no one else would see it that way. She’s the hero who defeated the big bad Osyraa. Why would anyone care how she did it? Who would care who got hurt? If I said anything bad against her, it’d only look like petty jealousy or spite.”

Something clicks together, and Hugh asks, “Is that why you didn’t tell me? Or anyone?”

Paul seems to curl in on himself. His voice faint and frail, “That and… I thought you’d agree with her. Tell me that what I feel is wrong and to get over it. I know you wouldn’t, and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. I was scared of being hurt more even if you didn’t mean to and.…”

Hugh can see the logic in that. Burnham was Paul’s friend and if she could inflict this kind of emotional damage unwittingly, Hugh could see why Paul would be afraid of what he could do.

He softly cards his fingers through blond hair, “I can understand that, but you’re talking to me now, and I’m glad you are. I know talking about it, reliving it, is painful, so thank you for still telling me.”

Paul nestles his head more comfortably in the crook of Hugh’s neck. “It does… hurt, but I feel more tired than anything. Tired of keeping everything in, tired of pretending everything is fine and tired of being away from you.”

Hugh cups Paul’s jaw and tilts his head up, lips meeting tenderly. “I missed you too, love. How about this? We go back to our quarters, have dinner, and take a long, hot shower together. Then we can cuddle in bed the rest of the night.”

He sees a small but beautiful and genuine smile on Paul’s face, “I like that plan.”

Chapter Text

Once safely ensconced in their quarters, they shed their boots and jackets. Hugh nudges Paul to sit at the table and sets a plate of food before him. They eat, not saying much but the pointed looks, eyebrow twitches, and lips quirking make up for the lack of verbal communication. Once Paul has eaten enough to Hugh’s liking, he leads him to the bathroom for that promised shower.

They’ve dressed and undressed each other countless times, like in the heat of passion or after an exhausting day. However, Hugh is mindful to keep his touches from eliciting any amorous feelings as he peels away Paul’s clothing. He doesn’t want Paul to think he’s asking for something more than he can give tonight.

While the shower unit was built for one, they’ve always been able to squeeze both their bodies in. Hugh can see the hot water is already easing some of the lingering tension in Paul’s frame. He grabs the shampoo and sets to washing his love’s hair. His fingers work the lather into every strand and massages his scalp. Rinsing is followed by conditioner followed by soap for the rest of Paul’s body.

Paul surrenders to Hugh’s ministrations which isn’t too unusual. Hugh was the only person Paul completely surrendered his hyper independence to. He runs soap-laden hands down his arms, back, and legs. The simple act was familiarly intimate and a soothing balm to his emotional aches. When he moves to wash his chest, Paul wraps his arms around Hugh and rests his head on his shoulder.

Hugh immediately returns the gentle embrace. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… I missed you. I missed this,” Paul mumbles tiredly.

A sentiment Hugh wholeheartedly agrees with. He finishes washing, and Paul returns the favor with beloved hands slowly, carefully moving soap across his skin. Paul’s touch feels almost reverent. The soft caresses broken by featherlight kisses planted here and there. Once he’s done washing, Hugh pulls him in for another hug. He slips one hand into Paul’s hair and the other around his waist. He revels in the way Paul’s solid body settles comfortably against his like two well-matched puzzle pieces.

Eventually, the water starts to cool, so Hugh shuts it off and leads them out of the shower. They take turns drying each other off and finally dress for bed. Paul slips under the covers with Hugh spooning up behind him. He intertwines their fingers and presses his palm over Paul’s heart.

Hugh waits until Paul falls asleep first, and once his love’s breathing evens out, he allows Paul’s steady heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul doesn’t open his eyes as he slowly comes to, instead choosing to luxuriate in this nest of warmth and safety he’s found himself in. Blankets tucked snuggly around him along with the arms of the only person who could make Paul feel safe no matter what. He buries his face in Hugh’s chest and feels a soft rumble of chuckling. Warm deft fingers gently thread through Paul’s hair. The action nearly sends Paul back to sleep until Hugh softly speaks, amusement coloring his voice.

“Are you going to wake up today? Sleeping all day isn’t the best way to cure sleep deprivation.”

Paul sighed. Opening his eyes, he tilts his head up to look at the wonderfully compassionate, patient man holding him.

Hugh cupped his cheek, thumb moving slowly across his skin, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, actually,” Paul admits.

It was true too. His head and body weren’t aching anymore, and the heavy exhaustion weighing him down felt far lighter. His emotions still felt sensitive but more settled now.

“I don’t have to get up now, do I?”

“No, you are going to be resting for the next two days, doctor’s orders,” Hugh adds a wink at the last part. “Tracy’s put me on call, so I’ll be staying barring an emergency.”

“Good,” Paul nuzzles Hugh’s cheek, “because I have a lot of cuddling to make up for.”

The affection draws a smile from him, “Yes, you do.”

A thought occurs to Paul, and his mood sobers slightly, “I have to make it up to Adira and Tilly too. It wasn’t just you I shut out; they didn’t deserve that.”

“They were worried about you,” Hugh agrees while gently petting Paul’s hair. “And I’m sure they’d appreciate hearing from you.”

There is another matter, one Paul doesn’t want to face but knows he must sooner or later. He inhales slowly to steel himself, “Do I have to make up with Burnham too?”

Hugh takes his time in answering. When he does, his words are measured, “Only if it feels right to you. Don’t do it because you think you have to or because you’re expected to. Let your emotions run their course, acknowledge them, talk about them, and listen to them.”

“What about forgive and forget?”

“Forgiving and forgetting are not synonymous with each other. You can forgive without forgetting what she did to you. I’m not saying to hold it over her head, but to remember, so you don’t get hurt again.”

Paul lowers his eyes, thinking over his words. His pale fingers idly trace patterns over Hugh’s chest, and he can feel his love’s fingers gently toying with his hair.

“I don’t know if I can or want to be friends with her anymore,” he quietly admits.

The idea of cutting ties with her does hurt but the idea of staying friends after everything she did hurts even more. Letting go of his feelings and fixing their broken relationship seems a bit impossible right now.

“You are allowed to set boundaries and to ask for space if she approaches you. You don’t owe her anything or have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

Paul nods and feels a little more confident, now knowing he has options and that his feelings matter and are valid and heard. He moves his head and captures Hugh’s lips in a kiss, pouring his love and gratitude into it. Wordlessly conveying how much Hugh means to him, his relief at being heard and not judged, and everything else Paul can’t articulate. Their lips part, hovering millimeters from each other and Paul looks into Hugh’s eyes. Dark pools filled with love, compassion, and tenderness gaze back at him and help to soothe the raw edges of Paul’s heart.

Hugh rests their foreheads together, eyes closing, and he cups Paul’s face with one hand. “I love you and, I’ll always be here for you.”

Chapter Text

News spreads fast on a ship, especially one with a small, tight-knit crew like Discovery. The latest being Tilly had been de-aged to a child in some accident. After their shifts Keyla and Joan went to medbay, thinking if there’d really been an accident, that’s where Tilly would be. They didn’t get that far as they rounded the corner and saw Paul carrying a smaller, younger version of their friend on his hip.

“Oh my God, the rumors are true,” Joan whispered in shock.

“She’s so cute!” Keyla squealed as she ran up to them. “Look at her hair; it looks even redder and curlier.”

Tilly looked at Paul with worry at the sudden approach of, to her, strangers.

“It’s okay, they’re friends. That’s Keyla, and that’s Joan,” Paul introduced.

The little ginger shyly waved, and Keyla squealed again.

Tilly canted her head, “How come you’re eyes are two different colors?”

The pilot paused, and Paul sighed, “Tilly…”

“Uh… well I…”

“I think they look pretty. You get to have two colors instead of one!” Tilly happily cheered.

Keyla blushed and felt herself melt inside.

The little girl turned her attention to Joan. “Did you braid all your hair by yourself? That musta took a long time. I think they’re pretty too!”

Joan smiled, “Yes, I did, and I’m glad you think so.” She reached out and lightly tugged a curly strand of red hair, “I could do yours sometime.”

“Actually, do you think you and Detmer could watch her for a few minutes? I need to take care of something, and I don’t think I can do that and watch her.”

“Sure!” The pilot agreed before Joan could say anything.

Paul set Tilly on the ground and knelt down to her level. “You be good for Keyla and Joan, okay? I’ll come and get you soon.”

Tilly nodded, and he headed off down the hall.

Joan sighed, “Now what?”

Keyla thought a moment, smiled, then squatted down to Tilly. “Hey Tilly, do you want to get some ice cream and maybe have Jo braid your hair?”

Her face broke out in a large grin, and her eyes sparkled. “Yeah!”

“Alright, let’s go,” Keyla took her friend’s tiny hand and led her to the mess hall.

“You’re going to give her sugar? Really?” Joan asked.

The ginger’s grin turned mischievous, “She’ll be back with Stamets by the time the sugar rush hits.”

The navigator chuckled, “You’re awful.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Saru had never spent any time before with young human children. He was used to Kelpian children, yes but not humans or any other species. Stamets needed someone to watch her while he tended to some matters in the cultivation bay. No one else he trusted was available. Since nothing needed Saru’s immediate attention, he volunteered. Besides, he was curious about what his XO was like as a child.

“Wait up, I have little legs!”

Saru stopped and waited for her to catch up at a run. He forgot that her legs were indeed much smaller and too used to her being able to always keep pace with him.

“My apologies, I forgot that your legs are little, and I need to slow down.”

They resumed walking, albeit with him going at a slower pace. He was uncertain about what he was supposed to do with a small child. So he settled on taking her on a tour of the ship. Watching Tilly ogle in wonder at everything was endearing to see.

“Adira said I was your First Officer,” Tilly says suddenly.

“That is correct.”

“Am I still your First Officer?”

Saru tilts his head slightly, “Technically, yes, but you’ve been excused from your normal duties until you are… better.”

“Until I get big, you mean?”

Were human children supposed to be this perceptive, or was it just Tilly?

She plays with her fingers, not looking at him. Then quietly asks, “Was I good?”

Saru always felt honesty was important no matter who one was talking with. So he didn’t hesitate with his answer.

“You were, are, very good.”

Child or not, Saru still recognizes that shy but beaming smile that spreads across her face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Despite the extra weight of Tilly on their back, Adira could still sprint down the corridors. Tilly hung on tightly and giggled as they swung around corners and dodged other crew members.

“Adira, stop! Monster!”

Adira figuratively slammed the brakes and skidded to a halt. A good thing too, or they would’ve bowled over Grudge. The animal was sitting placidly in the middle of the hall.

“That’s not a monster.” But they chuckled, “that’s Grudge; she’s Booker’s cat.”

“That’s not a cat. It’s too big!” Tilly protested.

The teen shrugged, “Paul says Grudge’s breed is supposed to be that big.”

Tilly’s blue eyes widened in horror.

“Are you really that frightened by a cat?”

They both started at the cold silky voice of Georgiou. She stood behind Grudge as though she’d been there the whole time.

“Now there’s a monster for you,” Adira muttered.

“What was that?” Georgiou narrowed her eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Georgiou!” Booker exclaimed as he turned the corner and walked up to them. “Terrorizing small children, I see.”

She gives a languid shrug, “It’s a hobby.”

“Uh-huh, clearly you need to get new hobbies then.” He bent down and scooped up his cat, “Isn’t that right, Grudge?”

“If you’re going to hold conversations with that creature like it understands you, then I’m leaving,” Georgiou huffed and sauntered away.

“Thanks for that,” they sighed.

“It was no problem. She’s more bark than bite anyway.” He blinked at them in disbelief, “Hang on, Is that…?”

“Yeah, that’s Tilly.” Tilly gave a shy wave.

“Right… I know Michael mentioned something happened to Tilly and made her temporary First Officer, but… wow.”

“Is that really a cat?” Tilly asked warily.

Booker smiled, “Yes, it is. Don’t let her size fool you; she’s a real sweetie. Do you want to pet her?”

The little girl recoiled from the suggestion. “What if she tries to scratch me? Or eat me?”

“Grudge won’t hurt you, she’s tame, and I can assure you she doesn’t have a taste for humans.”

Booker crouched lower and held out Grudge. Tilly reached out, touched Grudge’s head, and snapped her hand back. Tilly tried again, and Grudge wrapped her paw around her wrist.

She whimpered, but Booker reassured her, “That’s just Grudge’s way of saying she wants more pets. She’s not going to hurt you.”

Tilly flexed her fingers buried in Grudge’s soft fur. The cat began purring and rubbing her head against Tilly’s hand, making her giggle.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tilly was clearly in need of a nap, that much Hugh could tell. Typically, school-age children like her didn’t need naps as badly as younger children. But considering the busy day she’s had; a brief siesta might be beneficial for everyone. He did not want to see what a cranky Tilly looked like.

She sat on a bed with a PADD, yawning and rubbing her eyes with increasing frequency.

“Tilly, honey, you’re looking pretty tired there. Do you want to take a nap?”

She shook her head and stubbornly pouted, “No, I don’t need a nap. Naps are for babies, and I’m,” she’s cut off by a large yawn, “not a baby.”

He could force her to by putting her in a quiet, dark room with a bed, but that might not go over well. She wasn’t that irascible… yet. He tried to remember how his brother and sister handled their kids whenever they were challenging.

Tilly looks at him like she’s expecting him to continue arguing or punish her for being defiant. Hugh weighs his options and shrugs.

“Alright then. I trust you to know if you need a nap or not. If you say you don’t need one, I’ll trust your judgment.”

Tilly looks surprised and a little relieved? Happy? Either way, she seems better, so Hugh leaves her be and goes back to work. A few minutes later, he hears a crash and looks over to see Tilly pouting and the PADD on the floor.

Hugh picks up the discarded PADD, “Tilly? You okay?”

She sniffles, and her lip trembles, “I kept losing the stupid game, and I’m… I’m…”

Setting the PADD down, he crouches down to her level, “How about this? I can carry you while I’m working, show you everything I do and around medbay.”

It didn’t sound exciting, but Hugh had the feeling Tilly needed comfort right now. Her exhaustion was fraying her emotions, and she had been through a lot today. The child lifted her arms up in a silent request to be picked up. Hugh happily obliged and settled her on his hip while she rested her head on his shoulder.

He went about his work, explaining what he was doing, what this device did and why. Tilly quietly observed it all, which told Hugh how tired she was. Usually, Tilly was a fountain of questions and more so in her younger form.

“Hugh?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can I still stay here even if I don’t get big again?” Her voice sounded so small and unsure that his heart went out to her.

Hugh had been thinking of that as a possibility and what they might have to do then. But one thing was certain, “Of course, sweetie. Even if you have to grow up again, you’ll still stay here, and we can take care of you.”

Tilly yawned and nuzzled his shoulder, “That’s good, ‘cause I like it here a lot.”

He smiled, “And we like having you here too.”

While busy reading patient data on a screen, Hugh absentmindedly rubbed her back. He started slowly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, softly rocking her. After a while, he noticed she’d gone completely silent. She was facing away from him, so he couldn’t be sure but.…

“Tracy?” He whispered to his nearby friend. “Is she asleep?”

Tracy brushed away Tilly’s curls and smiled, “Yeah, she is. Oh, wait don’t move.”

She tapped her badge and pulled up the camera feature. “Look back at the screen like you were, yeah just like that.”

“Happy now?” He fondly teases.

“Yes, and so will Paul when he sees these.”

Hugh went to a nearby bed, though she hung on tighter when he tried to deposit his charge. He carefully tried to unclasp her hands from around his neck. Tilly stirred and made a noise of disquiet, so he stopped his attempts and slowly stood up.

Tracy snickered, “Looks like you’ve got a koala stuck to you.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Hugh sighed though he felt pleased rather than bothered.

Maybe it was selfish, but he liked carrying her and didn’t want to put her down quite yet. Her warm weight in his arms felt calming. He almost forgot how nice it felt to hold a sleeping child and to know they feel safe enough around you to sleep comfortably. He and Paul missed out on having a young child of their own to do this with, so he was going to savor every moment of this.

Chapter Text

Paul felt better than he had in weeks. The two days of resting he spent with Hugh (done snuggling and doing other activities in bed) had helped heal the raw and ragged edges of his heart. He felt calmer and lighter after confessing everything to Hugh and receiving nothing but support and love from him. This morning, they parted ways for their shifts with a kiss and a promise to meet up for dinner afterward.

In the turbolift, Paul hums quietly while reading a PADD, and his lips keep quirking up into a smile. He feels happy… at least until the doors open.

Both he and Burnham flinch at seeing each other, and Paul wonders if it’d be better to get out and walk the rest of the way. It’d be longer but nicer than sharing a small confining space with her. No, I shouldn’t be petty. I still have to work with her, so best to start now. He steps to the side, a silent gesture for her to come in. She steps inside, saying nothing and keeping her eyes away from him. Paul studies his PADD and fervently wills the lift to go faster.

The small space is made even more cramped by the awkwardness. Paul has no inclination to talk to her if he can help it. His wounds have barely healed. Seconds pass like hours, and the lift seems to go on forever.

“I’m sorry.”

Damn it, does she really want to do this now? “Are you now?” He hears the cold acid in his voice. “And what exactly are sorry for? Assaulting me with a Vulcan nerve pinch? Blasting me out into space? Not telling me my partner’s final message? Or how Adira brought medicine with them to buy Hugh and Saru more time?”

“I’m sorry for all of it. I don’t understand why you’re so upset now; everyone is fine. If you hadn’t reacted that way and just listened to me—”

Anger spikes in his chest, and mercifully the lift doors open on his floor.

“Paul please,” he stops walking out at her entreaty, “can we… are we still friends?”

He clenches his jaw and bites back a bark of incredulous laughter. How can she possibly ask that? Is she this arrogant or naïve? He wants to whip around and rip into her for what she did. But what good would it do? Holding onto his anger would only tether him to Burnham, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“First of all, that’s Lieutenant Commander Stamets to you, Captain. Second, blaming someone for the actions you’re apologizing for is not how you apologize. Third,” Paul takes a bracing breath for the last part. “After what you did, I honestly don’t know.”

He shamefully feels satisfaction at seeing the hurt on her face. She looks as if he physically slapped her.

“I understand why you had to get me off the ship, but that does not mean I agree with how you did it. I’ll forgive your actions even if you don’t understand how damn deeply you hurt me. And I’m not going to forget what you did to me.”

She huffs in disbelief, “So you’re going to hold it over my head then?”

“No, to remind me to not be hurt by you again and to remind you the ends don’t justify the means. Just because you saved someone doesn’t erase the hurt you caused to save them.”

He remembers Hugh’s advice about his right to set boundaries. “Look, I need time and space away from you. If you really do still want us to be friends, you will respect that.”

Paul leaves before she can respond.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

Hugh is slipping into his pajamas while Paul is already in bed, laying on his side and seemingly lost in thought. He slides under the covers and slips an arm around Paul’s waist, resting his hand over his heart. Paul had been quiet all through dinner, and Tilly mentioned to Hugh privately how Paul seemed subdued during their shift.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to be.”

He kisses the back of Paul’s neck, “Not a criticism love, just… should I be concerned?”

Hugh patiently waits for an answer. He can’t force his partner to respond honestly or at all, only trust that Paul will.

“I ran into Burnham on the way to Engineering.”

The doctor sits up a little in surprise at hearing that. He glances down at Paul, and he doesn’t look distressed, merely thoughtful. Hugh settles down in the sheets and pulls him closer.

“And how did that go?”

Paul sighs, “About as awkward and painful as you can imagine. She apologized, but I don’t think she understands why I’m… upset with her.”

Hugh can definitely imagine the tension and wishes he’d been there to offer support or be a buffer between them. Paul was making progress in untangling and processing his trauma. However, confronting the source of said trauma this soon might set him back.

“What did you say to her?” He asks both as the concerned partner and counselor.

Paul shrugs, his voice quiet, “I said I forgave her, and I needed space and time away from her. That I won’t forget what she did, and I don’t know if we can be friends again.”

Pride warms Hugh’s heart at how Paul handled everything. Paul never thinks of himself as strong, but Hugh begs to differ especially now. Their impromptu meeting could’ve gone south quickly with them lashing out at each other.

“Not to sound like a cliché therapist, but how did saying that make you feel?”

He feels Paul gently toy with his fingers still resting on his chest, “I felt… relieved kind of. Not happy or better, but lighter, I guess? I don’t know.”

“Like getting something off your chest?”

“Sort of.”

“For what it’s worth, I think that was a good first step,” Hugh encourages. “Telling her how you feel and what you need now.”

“If you say so, but you know what I need right now?”

“What’s that?”

Paul rolls over until he’s facing Hugh, “This.”

He cradles Hugh’s cheek with one hand and draws his lips in for a kiss. The act is slow and sweet, a savoring of the sensation of loving intimacy.

Hugh smiles, “I could use more that myself.”

Chapter Text

Chirp! Chirp!

Paul sighed at the intruding noise of an incoming call. His hands were busy with a delicate spore transplant and would’ve let the call go unanswered. Until he glanced at the screen to see who was calling. He nearly dropped the specimen into the pot and lunged for his computer to accept the call. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Justin smirk.

Hugh’s face filled the screen, as did his beaming smile, “Paul, hey, hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Three years of being together, and Paul still feels a giddy rush whenever he sees Hugh. “No, not all. How are you?”

“Tired, just got off working a double shift. I wanted to ask you something while I have the chance.”

“Um… sure?”

“Are you busy two weeks from Saturday? I have a friend who’s getting married, and she asked me to be in the wedding. She said I could invite anyone if I’d like. I know it’s a bit sudden, but the date got pushed ahead a few months. The reception is at a really nice hotel, and I thought we could stay there for a few days too. Sorry if it’s sudden, but do you think you can make it?”

“No, no, that’s fine. I uh…”

Paul was never one for socializing, even with like-minded people. So he often let Justin do the talking and later Hugh. But seeing Hugh in formal wear and spending a long weekend together…

“Do it, Stamets! You haven’t taken a vacation since the dawn of time!”

“Shut up, Justin!” Paul hisses over his shoulder. Then, he turns back to Hugh, “That sounds great.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul tapped his foot in anticipation outside their hotel room door. Hugh had teasingly kicked him out because he wanted to surprise Paul. The wedding was Victorian-themed, so Hugh (and the rest of the wedding party) wouldn’t be wearing a tuxedo. Paul actually felt some mild disappointment at that. He himself was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a blue shirt and tie.

He lightly raps on the door, “The wedding is less than an hour. Are you ready yet?”

“Hang on, I just got… to tie this and… hold on.”

The door finally opened, and Paul felt his breath catch.

Words like stunning, gorgeous, beautiful all failed to describe how Hugh looked. Paul’s eyes traveled from feet to head. Hugh wore black trousers that highlighted his long, strong legs, and if he turned around, his glorious backside as well. A white shirt paired with an emerald brocade waistcoat and ascot peeking through the buttoned black morning coat. He held a black short top hat in one hand.

Hugh smiled and held out his hands, “How do I look?”

Paul blinked and gaped, dazed by the indescribably handsome sight before him.

“You look… you look… wow.”

Hugh blushed and shyly glanced away, “I’ll take that as a good thing.”

“It is, it is!” Paul hurried to say lest he gets the wrong idea. “You look amazing and so, so beautiful.”

The doctor drew Paul closer and in for a kiss. Paul slipped his hands up Hugh’s shoulders, marveling at the coat’s silky texture and the strong, solid muscles hidden beneath.

“Kinda sad I didn’t get to watch you put it all on,” Paul lightly joked.

Hugh’s lips curled up in a familiar mischievous smile, “Would helping me take this off after the wedding make it up to you?”

Paul felt himself go breathless again, “Very much so.”

“Are you two done?”

Both men started at the irate female voice, and Paul nearly laughed at what he saw. Tracy stood in a bright orange Victorian dress trimmed with black lace and frills. She carried a matching parasol and had a tiny top hat pinned at a jaunty angle on her head. She pursed her lips at Paul and his barely contained laughter.

Tracy pointed her parasol menacingly at Paul, “Laugh Stamets, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Paul held up his hands placatingly, “I wasn’t going to say anything other than you look very nice.”

She lowers her weapon, “Sure you were. Come on, let’s get a move on then before they wonder where we are.”

Hugh donned his top hat and offered Paul his arm like a gentleman. He smiled and slipped his arm around Hugh’s.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The wedding ceremony was beautiful though most of Paul’s attention was on Hugh. He stood tall and straight-backed with a natural confidence that Paul finds so attractive. The church was decorated to look like something out of a Gothic novel. So too did the wedding party, dressed all the same but in different colors.

That could be us standing there, Paul thinks while watching the bride and groom exchange vows. Paul never thought about his own wedding, mostly because he never thought he’d find someone to have one with. But now that he has Hugh, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to entertain the notion. Was that moving too fast? Probably. Still… it is a lovely vision of the future.

The ceremony ends, and after a flurry of photographs, they go to the reception at the hotel. The ballroom is decorated like the church, dark and beautiful with a haunting touch. Dinner and cake are served, and people are now on the dance floor or mingling amongst each other. Paul stood off to the side, leaning against a decorated pillar.

“I thought I’d find you hiding,” Hugh teased.

“I’m not hiding, just people watching from a distance.”

“Uh-huh,” Hugh glanced at the dancefloor, then at Paul, smiling. He bowed and offered his hand, “May I have this dance?”

Paul blinked and felt his heart race. With that outfit and debonair smile, Hugh looked like someone from a historical romance novel.

How could Paul possibly say no?

He smiles softly back and slips his hand into his, “I would love to, good sir.”

That draws a warming laugh from Hugh, who leads them to the dancefloor. Hugh slips a strong arm around Paul’s waist, hand settling at the small of his back. Paul rests a hand on his shoulder and lifts their joined hands. The music is soft and sweet, and they begin to move. Paul let Hugh lead the way and focused on not stepping on his partner’s toes.

Paul’s awareness narrows down to just the two of them. His body relaxes and presses closer to Hugh’s. Their foreheads touch, and he gazes into his love’s dark eyes filled with joy and adoration. It never ceases to amaze Paul that such a compassionate, brilliant, and handsome man would look at him with such love. Paul hoped Hugh could see just how mutual the feelings were.

Chapter Text

The spanner clatters to the floor, and Tilly falls to her knees, arms tightly wrapped around her. Feelings of hot and cold flashed through her, and the floor was tilting dangerously. Breathing felt like a foreign concept, and her heart hammered to the point she thought it’ll explode. She’s numbly aware of Adira trying to get her attention, but everything feels like it’s underwater.

Stop it, Tilly, stop it. You’re fine. Stop freaking out like this. Quit being so useless and get back to work!

“—lly? Tilly?” She jumps at hearing Paul’s voice beside her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

She curls tighter into herself. Memories reappear of her mother’s hand sharply striking her upside the head accompanied by a snide comment. Tilly had to (will) be good and that included not making a scene because of a little anxiety.

“I’m sor— I can’t— I… I…” She chokes out between gasps.

“Should I get Hugh?” Adira asks Paul.

He shakes his head, “Maybe not. You go see if Nilsson needs help, and I’ll take care of Tilly.”

Adira looks reluctant to leave but eventually does. Paul makes himself comfortable on the floor and carefully rests his hand on her back. She flinches, but his hand stays.

“Tilly? Can you take a deep breath for me?” He asks gently.

She shakes her head. It’s not that she’s trying to be difficult or obstinate, but her muscles are locked in place, and she can’t move. Her breathing is rapid and shallow though her lungs feel squeezed, and which is the deepest she can breathe.

Paul doesn’t show any irritation or impatience with her refusal. She can’t bear to look at him, so she keeps her eyes on the floor. Shame, panic, guilt, and fear grip her throat and Tilly wants to cry. Then, on a thoughtless impulse, she grabs Paul’s free hand, tightly held in her own. Paul didn’t pull away. Instead, he gently moved his thumb across her hand.

The touch proved to be the kind of grounding Tilly needed. It gave her something to focus on while being tumbled about by her emotions. Finally, she felt brave enough to force her lungs to inhale more deeply and ease her tense muscles. Vaguely she could hear Paul giving her soothing encouragement and reassurance.

“There, that’s it, keep breathing just like that. I’m right here; you’re okay.”

Panic slowly loosened its grip on her senses until she could finally think and see clearly. However, the adrenaline rush leaves her feeling drained and slightly sick. Paul scoots closer, and Tilly leans against him.

“I’m… sorry. I don’t… I don’t know what happened,” she mumbled.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, “It’s alright. Panic attacks can sometimes happen without warning. There’s nothing wrong with that or you.”

“Have… have you ever had one?”

She hears Paul’s pause before answering, “…once or twice.”

Tilly got the sense it was more than that but didn’t press him.

“The important thing,” he said, moving the conversation along, “is to recognize the signs and how to stop an attack before it gets that bad. I know some grounding techniques I could teach you that might help.”

The panic was gone, but feelings of guilt and shame lingered. “I’m sorry for freaking out like that. It was stupid, and I’m stupid for—"

“Tilly,” Paul interrupts, “if Adira or Detmer or anyone had a panic attack would you want them to feel bad about it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why should you be any different?”

Tilly didn’t have an answer for that.

“This does not make you at all weak or stupid. On the contrary, you are still the same brilliant, brave, and compassionate person.”

He sounds so sure, and Tilly thinks that maybe he’s right. She’s survived so much, and many of those things have left scars on her. However, she’s alive, and she’s still her awesome self despite everything. That episode of panic didn’t stop or undo any of that.

Tilly smiles tiredly and rests her head on his shoulder, “Thank you.”

Paul smiles and squeezes her shoulder, “Any time, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

Even without hindsight, Hugh knew he should have fought harder for Paul when Lorca was captain. Instead, he stood by and watched as his partner was pushed far past his limits. Yes, they were at war, but that didn’t excuse the harsh demands Lorca made of Paul. Hugh remembers Paul being so exhausted that no amount of sleep helped, constantly stressed, and plagued by the fear that they (Hugh most of all) could die if his work failed.

Things only got worse after Paul injected himself with tardigrade DNA. After that, Lorca had even less care for Paul’s health and safety. A point proved when he forced Paul to make 133 consecutive jumps and ordered Hugh to keep Paul alive no matter what. Of course, Hugh would’ve done that without an order. But the way Lorca said it like the sole reason Paul can be kept alive is because of his navigational abilities, made Hugh shudder.

Hugh remembers staying silent when he should’ve spoken up in Paul’s defense. He should’ve put his foot down as both a partner and physician. The guilt still lingers even with Lorca gone and the war over. Hugh never fully expressed his frustrations or regret to Paul, only in allusions or throwaway comments. And every time he did, Paul would reassure him that just being there for him was enough even if it didn’t feel that way to Hugh.

But now Hugh had the chance to make up for that. He could keep history from repeating itself.

That’s why he now stood in Burnham’s office. She sat reading over his and Tracy’s report about Paul’s seizure and proposed emergency-only use of the spore drive.

She set the PADD down with a light sigh, “This certainly hinders things. Isn’t there anything you can give Paul to prevent seizures? Don’t people who have them take medication?”

Hugh takes a steady breath to settle his churning emotions. “Yes, but that’s for people who have a history of seizures. Paul doesn’t, and his aren’t caused the same way as someone with epilepsy. Those kinds of medications can’t be started and stopped abruptly; it has to be done gradually.”

“We need the spore drive, Hugh.” Burnham patiently implored, “Vance has us on emergency standby because we can jump anywhere in an instant to help. What help are we going to be if we have to travel at the same speed as everyone else?”

“I’m not saying we can’t or shouldn’t jump, only that we should be more selective about doing so.”

“We only jump for emergencies now anyway.”

“Considering Vance’s been having us jump to nearly every corner of the quadrant delivering dilithium and other supplies for weeks now doesn’t really qualify. If you read the report, Tracy and I propose emergencies pertaining to Discovery. If the ship and crew are in danger and jumping is the only way to save them, then yes.”

“What about all the colonies that need help? We have the means to help so many people right now, to help the Federation, and you’re saying we shouldn’t? That sounds a bit heartless coming from a doctor whose job it is to care for people.”

There’s an eerie parallel between Burnham’s goading and Lorca’s. Hugh’s hands are behind his back, so she doesn’t see them clench into fists and relax. Ignoring people in need goes against his caring nature. The only thing keeping him from backing down is the threat that helping others will be to Paul’s health.

“I am not going to risk my partner’s life any more than I’m forced to. This could be a sign that the unforeseen dangers of using the spore drive are finally catching up to us.

“I know you want to help as many people as possible, and that is admirable, but we won’t be able to help anyone if we lose the means to help. You need to think about the health and safety of your crew first and foremost, and that includes Paul.”

Burnham taps her fingers on the tabletop, looking at Hugh. He stares straight back, unwilling to budge on the matter. He was going to protect Paul this time.

“Fine,” she sighs. “We’ll only jump if the ship is in danger. Bit it seems a bit selfish to put your needs before the greater good.”

Paul is my greater good. Instead, Hugh says, “It’s not selfish to put yours or your loved one’s well-being first.”

Chapter Text

“This feels like the setup to a bad horror movie,” Paul grumbled.

“How so?”

“A colony sends out a distress signal and doesn’t respond to any of our hails. That doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Burnham reminded him.

She was technically correct. Tilly was supposed to go, but Paul had asked to take her place once he learned Hugh was going. There was no way in hell Paul would let his partner go on a mission with Burnham at the lead. It’d been weeks since Osyraa’s attack, but Paul still had nightmares about it and how horribly wrong it could’ve all gone.

Discovery had chanced upon a distress signal coming from an old Federation colony. The databases didn’t have much information, and Tilly promised to work on it while the away team investigated. It was just him, Hugh, and Burnham.

Hugh gave him a gentle nudge and reassuring smile, “It’s going to be fine. We’ll see what’s going on and then leave.”

Unless Burnham has the chance to play hero and drag everyone along, Paul thought unkindly.

Arcadia was the name of the colony and a small one with slightly less than 400 people. The planet had a similar atmosphere and climate to Earth. If not for the two different colored suns (hidden by thick gray clouds now), the planet could almost pass for Earth.

They walked into the city to find it deserted. No people walked the streets, no lights on in the buildings, no sound except for their footsteps and the wind.

Definitely a horror movie, Paul thought.

“Where’s the signal coming from?” Hugh asked. “Someone might be there.”

Burnham pulled up a holographic map of the area. A tiny red dot blinked a few blocks from where they stood. “There, probably the town hall. That’s usually where….”

While they talked, Paul took a closer look through the building windows. He peered into a shop window and saw all the merchandise coated in a thin layer of dust. All the shelves and racks were fully stocked with untouched items.

A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he looked up at the building across the street. In the window, the curtains hung still, but he could’ve sworn he saw them twitch like someone was watching them.

“Paul, come on.”

He stared at the window a second longer and then followed the group. Unfortunately, the rest of the town proved to be just as deserted as the entrance. They passed by dirty windows, stalled transports, and overgrown gardens. Hugh kept scanning for life signs, but the scans came back negative each time.

The town hall was a large red brick building with a white roof and columns framing the entrance. The double doors were unlocked, allowing them to walk right in. Burnham tried the light switch then a nearby lamp, neither worked. So they pulled out their flashlights and flicked them on. The lobby had chairs, tables, a front desk, and other bureaucratic paraphernalia. Everything was where it’d normally be with a light layer of dust.

“Hello? This is Captain Burnham of USS Discovery,” she called out. “We’ve heard your distress signal; we’re here to help.”

Silence.

“We should split up. We can cover more ground and maybe find someone and find out what’s going on,” Burnham suggested.

“Oh sure, splitting up that’s a great idea. That always works in the movies,” Paul drawled sarcastically.

“This isn’t a horror movie,” she shot back.

Paul gave her a flat, unimpressed look.

“Maybe given the situation,” Hugh gently intervened. “It would be best to stick together.”

“Fine,” she sighed, “but we might end up being here longer if we do that.”

“Fine with me,” Paul answered.

They combed through the first floor and, finding nothing, climbed the ornate wood staircase to the second floor. The second landing was a long hallway lined with doors. Burnham called out again and was again met with silence. Paul felt his hands grow clammy and his mouth go dry. Hugh inched closer to him and grabbed the corner of Paul’s sleeve.

Burnham felt something lightly tug on her braids to her left. She scoffed, “Quit trying to scare me, Paul.”

“Burnham, I’m over here.”

She turned and saw Paul standing at her right with Hugh between them.

Her breath caught in her throat, “That… wasn’t you?”

Small childlike feet suddenly pattered at the end of the hall.

They whipped their flashlights to the source and found nothing. Carefully they crept down the hall, and Burnham lightly rested her hand on her phaser.

“Hello? Is anyone there? We’re not going to hurt you; we’re here to help.”

Their investigation took them to the governor’s office. The inside was just as boring and orderly (and dust) as the lobby. Papers, books, and PADDs lay in neat piles on the desk. Paintings of scenery hung on the walls with no sign of wear. Plump couches and chairs didn’t look any worse for wear either.

“Isn’t this where the distress signal would be activated?” Hugh asked.

Burnham walked to the other side of the desk with Paul and Hugh following. A small panel of controls was embedded in the wood and layered with dust. Burnham tapped on the buttons, and nothing happened. She tried again, nothing. Frustrated, she pulled up the holographic map. The signal’s red dot was gone.

“Tilly to Burnham.”

She sighed and tapped her comm badge, “Burnham here. Did you find anything, Tilly?”

“Michael, hi, hey yeah, I did. This used to be a Federation colony way back, but then it was abandoned.”

“I suppose after the Burn a lot of colonies would be abandoned or die out.”

“Michael, you don’t get it. The colony was abandoned before the Burn.”

All three of them froze. “What?”

“Starfleet went to investigate when the colony went silent in the 2990s. Every member had been found dead; the population was massacred.”

“Massacred by what?” She asked, now starting to look panicked.

“The report doesn’t say specifically, just ‘an unknown entity’. They sent a six-person away team, and only two came back.”

“Dare we ask what happened to the other four?” Paul asked.

“They went missing and later found... dismembered.”

“That can’t be right. This place doesn’t look like it’s been abandoned for two centuries,” he countered, trying to make sense of this spooky madness.

“Uh… Paul, Michael, you might want to see this.” Hugh stood by the window, looking out over the main street.

The buildings outside had changed entirely. They no longer looked slightly neglected but downright derelict. Instead, most looked more like ancient ruins than actual buildings. Worn down by time and nature, the structures stood as markers of a once-thriving community.

“They’ll get you. They’ll get you.…”

Everyone whipped around, but no one was there. The room had changed now too. Dust lay thick over everything; the paintings were faded, and the curtains threadbare. The upholstery on the couches and chairs was torn by what looked like large claw marks. Handprints and streaks of dried blood painted the walls and floor.

“They’ll get you… like they got us!”

“Permission to get the fuck out of here, Captain?” Paul said with false calm.

Burnham didn’t hesitate, “Permission granted.”

Chapter Text

It’s the smell that rouses Paul. The smell of antiseptic and blood, of medicine and death. His fingers take in the familiar firm surface of a biobed. I’m in medbay, but… wasn’t I just in Engineering?

Paul’s right-hand twitches and he feels a deep burning ache radiate throughout his whole limb. He hisses and tries to move away, but that only sends more pain lancing through him, especially in his shoulder. His right leg pulsates angrily in pain. He tries to breathe, to cry out or alert someone that he was conscious, but his chest feels tight, and each breath is accompanied by an uncomfortable pressure.

He hears a muffled cacophony of sound and tries to pick out anything familiar. People moving about around him, voices speaking, and other sounds his mind is too tired to identify. There are hands on him, and Paul weakly tries to move away, but his efforts are rewarded painfully. He pries his eyes open and is nearly blinded by the overhead lights and sterile white of medbay. From the dim corners of his vision he can make out the nurses moving around him.

One of them catches his eye and looks up at something Paul can’t see, “Doctor, he’s awake.”

His arm is really hurting now and before he can turn his head to see why a hand settles on his face and gently turns his head away to the left.

Hugh smiles at him relieved, “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“H…ugh I—” Paul’s raspy words turn into a whimper.

His dear doctor tenderly strokes his cheek, “Shh, I know, I know it hurts, but we’re going to take care of you.”

The soothing touch helps direct his attention away from his aching limbs. Paul leans into Hugh’s hand while Hugh gently takes Paul’s other hand in his. The warmth and love in his touch is enough to ally some of Paul’s rising anxiety. What happened? Adira and I were in Engineering and… Paul gasps at the sudden realization. Adira! He jerks and pain harshly bursts in his arm and leg. Fire rips through muscle and bone leaving him breathless and lightheaded. His eyes screw shut and with teeth clenched tries to breathe. With effort he draws in air slowly and after a few breaths, reopens his eyes. Hugh is carefully pinning him to the bed, trying to keep Paul still.

“Easy there, love, easy. Try not move,” he murmurs.

“…Adira?” Paul gasps out.

Hugh moves his hand to card through Paul’s hair. “Adira’s fine. A few cuts and bruises, but they’re fine. Tilly’s with them, they’re safe.”

Safe. Paul relaxes into the bed with relief. He looks at Hugh and notes the worry and apology in his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Hugh holds Paul’s hand, fingers tightly intertwined. “Nothing, I just hate seeing you hurt is all.”

It doesn’t feel like the complete truth. “Hugh…”

Hugh shakes his head and gently kisses Paul’s hand. “We can talk more when you’re feeling better.”

Someone hands Hugh a hypo and he sets Paul’s hand down to take it. Paul is hit with a flash of memory involving blood, shrapnel in his chest, the prick of a hypo, and Hugh’s voice lulling him to sleep. He tries to move away, but only manages to painfully twitch. His aching body growls at the movement, but Paul has no intention of going into another coma.

Hugh, his wonderfully observant and empathetic doctor, seems to pick up on the reason behind Paul’s distress. “It’s alright love, I’m not going to put you in a coma again. This is just a sedative; you’ll only be out for a few hours I promise. You need surgery and I’d rather you not be awake for it.”

Paul knows Hugh always tries to give his patients a choice when it comes to their care. He could request to be allowed to remain conscious but… Paul resignedly sighs. Hugh is silently imploring him, and Paul could never resist that look. He nods and very gently Hugh administers the medication.

His senses start to dull, and his eyes feel so heavy. He fights to stay awake, to focus on Hugh who is holding his hand to his chest. Pain is fading but so is everything else and Paul tries not to panic and remember the last time this happened.

“It’s going to be alright love, just focus on me. You’re going to be okay; I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Hugh’s reassurances are the last thing Paul hears before completely succumbing to sleep.

Chapter Text

Hugh tries to read while he sits at Paul’s bedside, but it’s a futile effort. He loosely holds Paul’s hand, running his thumb over his knuckles. Occasionally Hugh’s fingers creep up to touch Paul’s wrist, feeling the reassuring thrum of his love’s pulse. Paul’s injuries weren’t life-threatening like some in the past, though things could’ve taken a far grimmer turn if Hugh hadn’t—

Stop, he chides himself. Paul is alive; focus on that. There’s no point in thinking about what could’ve happened.

Do you mean how you almost left him for dead?

His hand tightens around Paul’s. I didn’t.

But you showed how easily you could have. It took Tracy giving you a verbal kick in the ass and Adira’s cries for help to make you do what should’ve been instinctual. Instead, you put following orders over the life of the man you claim to love. For shame, Hugh.

Hugh massages his forehead and looks at Paul, still sleeping peacefully. His arm is immobilized in a sling and resting over his chest. His leg is similarly restrained and propped up with a few pillows. Surgery and regens can only do so much until time is the only thing that can heal the rest. Hugh knows Paul isn’t going to enjoy the bedrest, work restrictions, and physical therapy. Hugh catalogs Paul’s injuries again. Two fractured ribs, dislocated shoulder, fractured humerus, shattered patella, torn tendons, fractured tibia. Second degree burns to arm and leg, a puncture wound in—

A gentle knock snaps Hugh out of his thoughts. He glances up to see Booker in the doorway, looking tired but uninjured.

Hugh had to make sure though, “Everything alright?”

Booker nods and rubs his neck, “Bit tired, but I’m fine. I just… wanted to see how Paul was doing, or rather we did.”

Hugh cranes his neck and spies Grudge sitting docilely at Booker’s feet. The furry behemoth trotted across the room and silently leaped onto Paul’s bed. Hugh nearly shooed her off out of reflex, but Grudge managed not to jostle or disturb Paul. Instead, she sniffed him up and down before settling down contently against his side.

Booker chuckled and shook his head, “I still can’t believe how quickly she’s warmed up to him.”

Hugh smiles slightly and reaches out to lightly scratch Grudge’s chin eliciting a pleased purr.

He sobers and asks a troubling question that’s also been on his mind. “Can I ask what happened with the jump?”

Since Paul was out of commission, Booker had to take his place and jump them away from the attacking marauders. Hugh had heard the alert while working on Paul’s injuries. The beginning of the jump felt the same, but their exit was too abrupt and rockier than normal. He almost expected alarms to start ringing, but when they didn’t, he brushed the event off and focused on Paul.

Booker sighed tiredly and leaned back against the wall, “I’m not entirely sure. I did the same thing as last time. I asked the spores to jump for us, and I guess they changed their mind at the last second.”

“They can do that?”

Hugh knew the spores were sentient on a very basic level, but to actually change their minds?

“Why did they?”

The other man shrugs, “I don’t know. Tardigrades and the spores have some kind of symbiotic relationship, right? Maybe because I don’t have any tardigrade DNA, the spores won’t listen to me, or they don’t trust me?”

It made sense, but the only person who could really know for sure was asleep. From what Hugh understood, Paul didn’t tell the spores where to jump, but guided Discovery along with the spores through the Network to a set destination. Paul once described it as slipping into a river and flowing with the current. Booker not having tardigrade DNA might be a factor too. Traversing the Network was a more delicate and dangerous process then people knew, like walking a tightrope with no safety net. Hugh tries not to think of the things that could go wrong.

Booker looks at Paul with concern, “How is he?”

“Better,” Hugh answers with relief. “He’ll be on bed rest for the week, then physical therapy and restricted job duties for maybe two weeks.”

Booker chuckles ruefully, “Oh, I’m sure he’ll enjoy that. He doesn’t strike me as the type to slow down and relax when he needs to.”

You have no idea. Paul could easily sit down and silently work as he could run about Engineering. The difficulty came when forcing him to rest when he thought himself fine enough to work like before. Hugh might actually have to stay in bed with Paul to make sure he actually rested. That did sound like an enticing idea, though…

“She isn’t mad, you know. Annoyed perhaps, but not mad.” Booker’s voice breaks Hugh away from his pleasant musing about how to keep Paul in bed.

The doctor sighs and rests his head in his free hand, “Would it sound wrong of me to say I’d do it again?”

“Not to me, but that might be because I’m not as tied with Starfleet as the rest of you. It’s easy to say you’ll put duty above all else. But all of that changes when the life of the one you love most is in danger.”

That gives Hugh something new to mull over. Booker bids him goodnight and leaves with Grudge in his arms (the cat growled at having been pulled away from her human space heater). Hugh debates about returning to his quarters for the night or setting up a cot here. The idea of leaving Paul unsettles Hugh even if Tracy is working the night shift. He trusts his friend implicitly, but too many close calls of losing each other make Hugh wary about leaving Paul unattended.

He hears another soft knock and isn’t surprised at who has come to visit now.

Chapter Text

Tilly was bone tired. The adrenaline rush from the raider’s attack faded hours ago. Discovery and her people were out of danger. Now they focused on clean up, repairs, logging damages, tending to the wounded…

She rested her head on the wall and tried not to think about Paul hurt in medbay and pulling Adira away and—

The ginger shook her head. There was work to be done. She is the First Officer and has responsibilities and… and… Her brain was fried. She needed coffee, stat. Tilly studies the replicator and ponders how much caffeine can a person ingest at once without overdosing.

“Gray thinks you sleep instead of drink more coffee,” Adira says quietly.

They sit on Tilly’s bed with arms wrapped around drawn-up knees, looking small and frail. There’s a healing cut along their temple, a maroon line stark against their fair skin.

“I know, I know,” Tilly sighs. Screw it, the reports can wait until tomorrow.

She heaves her exhausted body over to the body and flops down. Groaning in relief, she rests her head heavily in her hands. The little clock sitting with all her knickknacks tells it’s past 2300. How did it get so late? I can sleep in my clothes for one night, right? And I can make up a bed if Adira wants to stay and…

Tilly looks over at the other occupant and sits up when she sees tears streaming quietly down their face. Concern shoves away her exhaustion. She opens her arms, and Adira scoots in for the offered hug. Adira shakes, and their breathing hitches.

“It’s okay. Hugh will take care of Paul; he’ll be okay,” Tilly murmurs.

Adira sniffles, “I know but…”

The ginger nods, “It was still scary, I get it.”

And she did. She still had nightmares about leaving Paul in medbay during the fight with Control and returning to find him dead. However, much of the guilt she felt was eased when Paul and Hugh promised they didn’t blame her. That she did what she had to, and they understood.

Adira leans back and shakes their head. They dry their cheeks with a quick swipe of their sleeve.

“It’s not just that it’s…”

They look to the side, and Tilly gets the feeling they’re looking at Gray for… something. They look down at their hands resting loosely in their lap.

“I watched Gray die. And Paul… it was like seeing that again, and I thought he was… I couldn’t, and…” They break down in tears, and Tilly pulls them into another hug.

Holy shit, she thinks. Adira’s reluctance to be pulled away from Paul in medbay makes a lot more sense now.

“There was all that blood, and he wasn’t moving. I felt helpless and scared just like with Gray.”

Tilly tightened her hug, “I’m so sorry, Adira. I’m so sorry you and Gray went through that. Does anyone else know?”

"Just Paul and Hugh and only because I had a nightmare about it and... yeah."

They were both silent for a few moments. Slowly, Adira’s cries tapered down until they were left with soft sniffles, but they didn’t move out of Tilly’s hold.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Would it help if we went to visit Paul? I mean maybe seeing him awake and okay would be good for us?”

It wouldn’t erase any nightmares today has given them, but at least they could sleep a little easier tonight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Medbay is quiet and peaceful. Looking at it now, one would never know they’d been swarmed with injured people. Many had been sent back to their quarters to rest after having their wounds treated, with the more severe cases staying. Medical personnel moved softly from one patient to the next, checking on them and tending to whatever they needed.

Dr. Pollard didn’t try to turn them away. Instead, she pointed them to where Paul was with the promise to not disturb him. Paul was asleep, and Hugh looked very close to following. Tilly softly rapped on the doorframe, and he looked up, greeting them with a tired smile.

“I thought you two would be sleeping by now; it’s pretty late.”

“We know, but we uh we wanted to see…” Adira’s eyes drift to Paul.

Hugh smiled knowingly, “You wanted to see that Paul was okay.”

They both nodded, and he beckoned them closer when they didn’t venture further into the room. Adira sat in Hugh’s lap while Tilly leaned against him. He slowly rubbed Adira’s arm in a soothing gesture while they stared at Paul. He looks so pale and still.

“But he’s breathing, Adira. See?” Gray points out.

Fresh and old memories blend together, flashing one after the other. Gray dying in front of them. Paul pined by fallen metal. Gray taking his last breath. Paul slowly losing consciousness.

“He told me to leave, to get somewhere safe,” they mumble.

“Hmm?”

“Paul. He told me to leave him, and I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t scared for myself but for him. Will he be mad I didn’t listen?”

Hugh pulls Adira close, and they rest their head on his shoulder. “I’m sure Paul understands. He only wanted you to be safe because he loves you.”

Adira let that sink in just as Tilly let out a yawn.

“And I think that’s a sign you two need to go to bed.”

“No, we can stay—” Tilly yawned mid-protest. “Stay a little longer.”

They didn’t want to move from Hugh’s lap, which they found comfortable and calming. He was warm and solid, and Adira felt their eyelids growing heavy.

“I don’t think Tracy would appreciate all of us sleeping in here. If you want, you can sleep in our quarters. I know today has been… pretty stressful for everyone.”

He gently nudges Adira off his lap. They reluctantly stand and blink tiredly at him, “Aren’t you coming?”

“No, I’m going to stay here and keep Paul company.”

Adira is too tired to look deeper into that answer, so they nod and follow Tilly. They leaned against the older girl as they walked to Paul and Hugh’s quarters. This place felt more like home than their own quarters, even without their dads present. Tilly replicates them both pajamas while Adira pulls out spare blankets from the closet.

Sleeping in the bed didn’t feel right, so they settled atop the covers with their own blankets. Adira does snag a pillow off the bed, but Tilly replicates one for herself with something about allergies. They inhale and catch Paul’s scent, citrus and sandalwood, on the fabric. Adira pushes away the memories of earlier that day. Instead they choose to remember seeing Paul alive in medbay with Hugh watching over him.

Chapter Text

Hugh has interacted with people of almost every rank throughout his career, ranging from newbie cadets to seasoned admirals. Though talking to the president is undoubtedly a new experience. Hugh finds her in the main floor of medbay after stepping out of his office. (He wasn’t the CMO, but Tracy decided he deserved a private workspace of his own.)

He pastes on a professional smile, “President Rillak, a pleasure to see you, ma’am. Is there something I can help you with?”

Her own smile is kind and reserved. “A pleasure to see you too, doctor. And not particularly, I was interested in seeing what your medical bay was like. This ship is a fascinating blend of both your and our centuries.”

Her comment seems genuine, and he relaxes slightly. “Our CMO, Dr. Pollard, is busy in surgery right not but I’m sure she’d be happy to give you a tour when she’s available.”

“That’s kind of you, but I’d actually like to talk to you, Dr. Culber.”

Hugh doesn’t let his creeping wariness show. “My office is right this way if you’d like to speak somewhere private.”

They step inside, but neither sits down. Instead, Rillak surveys the room with slow, measured steps in a way that reminds Hugh eerily of Georgiou.

“I’ve noticed your crew is just as interesting as your ship. A bit odd perhaps, I noticed while on the Bridge Ensign Tal was talking to themselves.”

Ah. “Actually, they were talking to Gray, their boyfriend, and Tal’s previous host. It’s a bit… complicated, but Adira can see, speak, and interact with him even though others can’t. We’re working on changing that, though, and making Gray visible to everyone.”

“And you believe them? About seeing this Gray? You don’t think they’re making it up?”

A sense of protectiveness stirs in Hugh’s heart. “I’ve seen Gray for myself, and so has Saru, so yes, I do believe them.”

“But before that, you believed them about seeing and talking to Tal’s former host?”

With every question, Hugh likes this woman less and less. “Yes, I did.”

“Is that normal? For current hosts to interact with previous hosts like that?”

“I’ve found that ‘normal’ has a fluid definition, especially out in the black. I don’t know if that is normal or if there have been cases like this before. However, they and Tal are not in any sort of mental, physical, or emotional distress.”

Trill had been reluctant to share any relevant information. Either they had nothing and didn’t want to admit it. Or they were still sore about him and Paul becoming Adira’s legal guardians and barring Trill from taking them against their will.

“Well, I suppose a man who was clinically dead for months and yet is now alive and well would believe anything.”

Did she not hear a word I said? But her recent words reached him, and he blinked in surprise. “How..?”

“I’ve read your file, all of the crew’s files actually,” she explains mildly, seeing his reaction. “As president, I have access to that kind of information. I may not be in charge of Starfleet, but I do work closely with them, and it helps to know who I’m working with.”

Hugh nodded. That made sense, even if it did feel a little invasive.

“Your spore drive is also interesting, as is its navigator, who I understand is also its inventor, Commander Stamets.”

Now that sends Hugh on alert. He remembers the way she spoke about the spore drive and its successor, the pathway drive. Paul had acted as a consultant on the designs and while excited he was also wary, and that made Hugh wary too. Paul didn’t want his science to be mangled into something unrecognizable and used for less than ideal means. His reservations were understandable given what happened the last time Starfleet took an interest in his work.

Hugh makes his face and tone placid, “Yes, it certainly is interesting, and he is the navigator and inventor.” Then he adds a touch of emphasis to the next part, “and also my partner.”

Her smile is just this side of patronizing. “I’m aware of your relation to him. This technology could rid of us of our dependency on dilithium and make for easier, faster space travel. And, Heaven forbid, if anything similar to the Burn should happen again, at least we won’t be left decimated and crippled.”

She speaks like every other high-powered person with no science background that Paul complained to Hugh about. Only seeing the benefits to them and not the drawbacks or dangers or vast amount of work that goes into the drive.

“The navigation on the new ships is still in development, though. Moreover, tardigrade DNA isn’t exactly easy to come by since the species went extinct a while back. Do you think Commander Stamets would be willing to submit to an examination from a Starfleet doctor to help us better understand his connection to the spore drive?”

Hell. No. Hugh still remembers Paul’s anxiety about being locked away and treated like a scientific specimen and not a person when the war would end. Paul had agreed to a medical evaluation after those 133 jumps only because Hugh promised he wouldn’t let anything like that happen.

He plans to keep that promise.

Hugh pulls a look and tone of steely professionalism, “Dr. Pollard and I have already thoroughly examined Commander Stamets. I’m willing to give you our notes and observations along with what we have on Tardigrade DNA. There is no reason he needs to be examined again by a different doctor.”

She prowls closer to him, “There is if it’s suspected the doctors performing the exam were compromised in any way especially given your close connection to the patient. Or if I feel you or Dr. Pollard are withholding information.”

Hugh knows a threat when he hears one, no matter how subtle. Apparently, being around Georgiou taught him a few useful skills.

“You can’t force someone to undergo any medical exam or procedure they don’t want. It’s unethical. If a person is of sound mind and capable of making an informed decision, you can’t do anything if they say no.”

Hugh can see the gears turning in her head. A politician, he guesses, must also be a tactician, able to change plans and strategies in a second. Her tricomm chirps, and she pulls up a small holographic screen.

“Seems I need to be going,” she collapses the display. “I enjoyed our talk, Dr. Culber. Have a pleasant day.”

She leaves, but the sense of unease she elicited in Hugh remains. What the hell was that all about?

Chapter Text

It’s quiet. Perhaps not entirely silent, there are soft noises that Paul’s ears scarcely catch, but it’s far quieter than the last time he was conscious. His leg and arm are, for the most part, pain-free; only distant dull aches remain. He shifts slightly and feels the thin blanket slid across his skin.

“Paul?” He feels a delicate hand lightly touch his uninjured arm.

Eyes slowly opening, he sees Tracy standing by his bedside. She smiles in relief at seeing him conscious.

“Hey, glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Paul takes stock of his body with a slow inhale and exhale. Nothing hurts too much though he’s sure the screen above his bed would’ve told her. He carefully wiggles his fingers and toes.

“Fine, a lot better than earlier.” He notices how dim the lights are in the room. Was the ship in night cycle? “What time is it?”

“Little after 0300. You’ve been asleep for about ten hours.”

A few memories started to trickle in. That’s right, Adira and I were about to leave to get dinner. And then the ship went on alert and… His head throbbed dully at trying to chase the rest of his elusive memories.

“Hugh?”

She smiles softly and turns so he can look behind her. Hugh sleeps on a thin cot with one arm tucked under his head, and his jacket draped over him like a blanket. He appeared so peaceful, and Paul couldn’t help marveling at how perfect he looked.

“I convinced him to sleep a few hours ago on the promise I’d wake him if anything changed with you. Do you want me to wake him?”

Hugh needed to sleep, but Paul, perhaps selfishly, wanted to hear his voice and feel his touch.

“I wouldn’t want you to break a promise,” he said wryly.

She quietly chuckles at the implied joke and walks closer over to Hugh. Tracy lightly nudges him with her foot.

“Hugh, wake up.”

He grumbles sleepily and pulls his jacket around tighter. Tracy rolls her eyes with a huff, and Paul suspects this little show is for his benefit. Watching them act like siblings was often entertaining. She tries another tactic.

“Hugh, it’s about Paul.”

He springs halfway out of bed from that and lands sprawled on the floor. Despite herself, Tracy audibly snickers.

“Tracy, what was that for?” Hugh groans, pushing himself up off from his indignant position.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d jump out of bed like that.” Her mirth dies down, and she gestures behind her, “But Paul’s awake.”

Any lingering irritation vanishes when he sees that Paul actually is conscious. He relaxes and carefully wraps him in a hug. Paul slips his one good arm around him and revels in all the comfort, warmth, and love the gesture brought. Hugh leans back enough to kiss him and then plant soft kisses on his cheeks and nose. He buries his face in the crook of Paul’s neck, and Paul reaches up to stroke his hair.

“I must’ve really scared you,” Paul guessed.

Hugh was never stingy with physical affection, but this felt different. The affection didn’t feel desperate like Paul had been on death’s door, but something akin to that.

The doctor pulled away from him, and Paul moved his hand to cup Hugh’s cheek. He rested his own hand atop Paul’s, and Paul noticed a familiar troubled look, the same one he wore before Paul went to sleep.

“What’s wrong?” Hugh opens his mouth, but Paul speaks again, “And don’t say it’s nothing.”

It’s a few drawn-out moments before Hugh talks, his eyes not meeting Paul’s.

“Burnham ordered us to take care of the injured in the other decks. We couldn’t risk transporting them because it was spotty from being damaged from the attack. Adira commed and said you’d been hurt, couldn’t hear much else except how scared they were. I had to choose to either follow orders and treat the others or go to you.

“I should’ve known something was wrong. Adira wouldn’t have commed if it were something minor. I’m so sorry. Things could’ve gotten worse if Tracy hadn’t ordered me to go. I wanted to stay and take care of the other crew members. I ignored you.”

Paul shook his head and gripped the back of Hugh’s neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touched.

“I would never ask or expect you to abandon others to take care of me. You didn’t know how badly I was hurt, and I know you would have come if you did. There is nothing to apologize for,” Paul assures him.

“I still feel guilty. I don’t want you to think I’ll leave you behind or…”

“I know you won’t, just as you know I would never leave you behind. You shouldn’t feel guilty, but you can’t help what you feel; you told me that.”

Paul looks into his love’s eyes and sees some of the darker emotions abates. He honestly didn’t blame Hugh for not running to his aid. He didn’t know the severity of Paul’s injuries, and Paul trusts that if Hugh had, he’d be there.

“Would cuddling help?”

Hugh smiles a little, recognizing Paul’s ploy. “Not sure if we can both fit on the bed.”

“Then we’ll just have to make it work because I know cuddling would certainly help me too.”

Unable (and unwilling) to refute that logic, Hugh helps Paul maneuver closer to the edge of the bed. Hugh carefully lays on his side to take up as little room as possible. Coordinating limbs is a bit awkward, but they manage to find a mutually comfortable position. Hugh nuzzles Paul’s cheek, and he kisses the tip of Hugh’s nose. The pair settle into sleep, safely nestled in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

Paul smiled to himself as he saw Adira and Tilly shuffle out of their shared room. He knew the smell of cooking food would rouse them awake and out of bed. They both sported sleepy looks and impressive bed heads. They mumbled “good morning” to him and Hugh, taking a seat at the breakfast counter beside the doctor. Paul stepped aside from the pancakes he was cooking to set a pair of coffee-filled mugs before them.

“Did you two sleep well?” Hugh asked.

“Uh-huh,” Tilly yawned, and Adira gave a droopy nod.

“Just don’t fall asleep in your breakfast, please. I put a lot of work into it,” Paul asked.

He set plates of steaming homemade pancakes on the counter. Paul sits beside Hugh, but he’s close enough to almost be on the man’s lap.

“Pretty, intelligent, and can cook. Do you see why I keep him around?” Hugh joked and planted a quick kiss on Paul’s cheek.

This was their first shore leave as a family, and Hugh had been the one to pick the winter retreat. It was December, and he knew how Paul missed winter and snow even when his partner pretended he didn’t care. The cabin had a charming rustic feel with wood-paneled walls, a stone fireplace, and plush rugs. Tilly and Adira shared a bedroom with double single beds while Paul and Hugh claimed the larger bed in the loft.

“So, what are we going to do out here?” Adira asked, licking syrup off their thumb.

“Well, we can go sledding, or ice skating, or…”

“What’s sledding?”

Paul stops and blinks at their youngest’s question. “What’s… How… how do you not what that is?”

Adira shrugs, “I never spent much time planet side or been around snow.”

“Me neither,” Tilly chimes in. “I mean, I know what sledding is, but I never saw much snow either. Mom hated winter and the cold.”

I supposed the cold-blooded would. More importantly… “We are fixing that today. I know there are some hills in the area, and maybe we can rent a few sleds. Finish your breakfast and get your coats on.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul procured a pair of toboggans, and they trekked to a moderately sized hill. The snow sparkled in the early morning light like powered diamonds. Snow-laden branches glittered in their coats of white crystal. He inhaled and savored the crisp, invigorating chill of the air. Pine mixed with frozen petrichor, a close description of an elusive scent.

“So, we climb a hill and go down on that,” Adira looked back at the large wood sled Paul pulled behind him.

“Essentially, yes,” he adds, seeing the skeptical look on their face, “it’s more fun than you think.”

Once at the top of the hill, Paul angled the sled and sat on the very end. He patted the space in front of him between his legs.

“Who wants to go first?”

Adira and Tilly share trepidatious looks, and by some silent agreement, Adira volunteers. They sit on the sled, and Paul lays his legs on either side of them.

He hands Adira the reins, “Here, you can steer.”

“Do these actually work?”

“Sort of, more to give you a sense of control even if you don’t have any,” Hugh answers.

“Ready?”

“Um? Sure?”

Paul pushes off, and they quickly gain speed, zooming down the hill leaving glittery dust in their wake. They skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill. The exhilaration of feeling like he could fly left Paul giddy and breathless.

“Wow… that was…” Adira breathed with a wide smile.

Paul smiled at their reaction, remembering how he felt sledding as a youngster. “When I was a kid, my grandfather took me sledding a lot.”

He remembers sitting in his grandfather’s lap as they rocketed down the hill. While Paul’s sister Chelsea was more interested in staying indoors listening to music and feasting on their grandmother’s cookies. Some of his best memories were spent with his grandparents in winter.

Paul was broken out of his reminiscing by a wave of powdered snow washing over him. Hugh was grinning brightly at him, and Tilly was laughing.

“That was… that was fun! Can we go again?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul repressed a smile at the comical way Tilly was clinging to him. Then, after having their fill of sledding and with daylight still to be taken advantage of, they moved on to ice skating. Another first for their kids, though by the way Adira was skating beside Hugh they clearly had some experience. Maybe one of the Tals had been an ice skater? Hugh was leaning more on them for help than the other way around.

“Did you ever roller skate? It’s a bit like that,” Paul assured her.

“Not really,” Tilly fiercely gripped Paul’s arm in fear. “My mother didn’t like me doing anything that would embarrass her.”

He pats her hand, “No one will think twice about you falling, not that I would let you. Look up and keep your knees bent just a little.”

Tilly did as he advised, and Paul subtly loosened his hold on her. She should be skating independently without holding onto anything (or one) to better learn how to balance. Maybe Paul was becoming more parental than he thought because he really didn’t like the idea of Tilly falling, even if necessary. He wanted to hold her up as she wobbled along.

She made a few strides on her own, and without her notice, Paul let go. He skated close by but let Tilly move ahead on her own. She smiled and started to laugh.

“Hey, I’m doing it. I’m really doing it.”

Pride warmed Paul’s heart as she took increasingly confident strides across the ice.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With a fire brightly crackling in the fireplace, Paul relaxed into the armchair. He’d typically watch the flames do their mesmerizing dance and let his mind wander. But his eyes instead watched over his sleeping kids worn out from their day outdoors.

Tilly in the recliner, and Adira lay on their stomach with an arm dangling off the edge of the couch. Paul had promised them they’d make snowmen and snow forts tomorrow. That led the kids to plan and discuss how to engineer a sound snow fort that became more elaborate as they talked.

“Brought you something,” Hugh said quietly, holding two mugs.

He handed Paul a mug of hot chocolate liberally topped with marshmallows. His partner then nestled himself on his lap, and Paul wrapped a free arm around Hugh’s waist.

“They certainly enjoyed themselves, didn’t they?”

Paul smiles softly, “Yeah, they sure did.”

He sipped his drink and savored the heat and sweet chocolate slipping past his tongue and down his throat. Hugh relaxed against him and rested his head on Paul’s shoulder.

“Thank you for picking this place for our vacation. I know you don’t like the cold,” Paul said quietly.

“You’re welcome. True, this isn’t my favorite season,” he angles his head to look up at Paul. “But it is yours. I know you missed the snow no matter how much you acted like you didn’t. Seeing how happy it made you and how much fun Tilly and Adira had made it all worth it.”

Their lips met in a slow kiss laced with chocolate and love.

Chapter Text

Paul finds her in a seldomly used part of Engineering tucked in a small nook. Her face is buried in drawn-up knees and outwardly looks fine. He would’ve let her be if Adira hadn’t mentioned Tilly acting strangely after the mission and returning home.

From what Paul heard, the mission was a success despite going pear-shaped. Everyone made it back with only one casualty. Was Tilly beating herself up over that? It was entirely possible given her nature and tendency to obsess over her mistakes (whether her fault or not).

“Tilly?” He crept closer. “Are you alright?”

She turns her head, and he can see a redden blue eye peeking out from behind her curls. He sits beside her, concern solidifying.

“Not,” she sniffles, “not really.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

She sits up, sniffs, and swipes her cheeks dry with her sleeve. She doesn’t begin immediately, and Paul doesn’t push her.

“Ever since we came to the future, I’ve felt lost. At first, I thought it was because we were in a new era and everything but… I didn’t think those feelings were a big deal since everyone seemed to feel that way. But it kept getting worse while everybody else seemed to be getting better. I couldn’t understand why.

“Then I was promoted, and I didn’t feel happy or proud. I felt miserable, and then I realized why. I joined Starfleet and aimed to become a captain to prove my mother wrong about me. She had my whole life planned out, so I joined as kinda like a ‘screw you,’ you know? And I wanted to become a captain because she always said I wouldn’t amount to anything.”

She pauses to take a few breaths, and Paul sets his hand warmly on her back.

“I think you’ve more than proved her wrong.”

The ginger gives him a watery smile, “But that’s just it, she isn’t here to see it. I think that’s why I’ve felt lost because maybe deep down, becoming a captain was more about spiting her rather than a desire to lead a ship. That actually sounds like a really bad reason to be a captain, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll admit it’s not the most virtuous reason. But you do make a good leader. People listen to you and trust you. You’re sensible, responsible, empathetic, and brilliant.”

“Yeah,” Tilly idly toys with her hands. “Leading those cadets and then before when I had command of the ship when Osyraa attacked… made me realize that maybe I don’t want to be a captain? All that responsibility, all that pressure… and for what? The approval of someone whose been dead for centuries? Approval I probably wouldn’t have gotten even if she were alive.”

“There’s no shame in changing your dream.” He reassures, “You don’t have to become a captain just because you said so in the past. Nothing is set in stone.”

She gives him a doubtful look, so he adds, “Tilly, I think this is a good thing. You’re right; your mother isn’t here anymore. So you don’t have to waste time trying to impress her by pursuing something you don’t truly want. Instead, you can pursue whatever interests you, whatever makes you feel happy and fulfilled.”

He notices how she’s biting her lip and starting to fidget. “Unless you’ve already found something?”

Tilly looks down and says quietly, “Before leaving for Discovery, Kovich offered me a teaching position at the Academy.”

Oh. Paul’s eyebrows leap to his hairline, not an answer he was expecting. “And what did you..?”

Tilly shook her head vehemently, “I didn’t give him an answer, I promise. He said if I wanted to, then I could but… but I don’t know.”

Her lips tremble, and tears start to fall. Paul doesn’t think twice before pulling her into a hug. Tilly grips his tunic, and her shoulders shake with frustrated cries.

“Discovery is my home. I can’t leave; I don’t want to. This is the first place I’ve ever felt welcomed and wanted and loved.”

Paul’s heart ached for her, and he held her tighter. A selfish part of him wanted her to stay and for things to remain the way they are. However, if Tilly is feeling this miserable, then she should find something that makes her happier, even if that means leaving them.

“Tilly,” he says gently. “If you’re feeling this torn, then I think maybe subconsciously you’ve already made a choice.”

She leaned away and looked up at him. He could see the realization dawn in her eyes. It would hurt to see her go, so he took comfort in knowing she’d be happier and maybe come back someday.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul carefully rolled the little orb between his palms. He lightly rapped on Tilly’s door and stepped inside once granted entrance. Tilly stood beside her bed, staring down at a half-packed duffel bag.

“Almost packed?”

She huffs a nervous laugh, “Yeah, I just… I didn’t realize how little I had.”

“It does make moving easier,” he quipped, “but at least you’ll have room for this.”

He holds a glass and metal sphere no bigger than a Terran softball. Inside are glowing sprouts of stella that almost look like miniature versions of the full-grown variety. Specks of blue spores lazily swirl inside like the flakes in a snow globe.

Tilly takes the gift reverently, “Is this…?”

“Samples from the spores we grew from terraforming that moon. The stasis field in the sphere should hold for a year at least and preserve everything inside. I thought this way you could take a little bit of home with you.”

Tilly’s grinning even with tears in her eyes. He pulls her into another hug, and she tightly holds onto him. At that moment, he can’t tell who is comforting who the most. His throat tightens, and a strange ache nibbles at his heart. Then, what feels like too soon, they break apart.

“Thank you,” Tilly says, voice thick with emotion. “Not just for this but… for everything. I got to see and do some of the most incredible things because of you. Because you took a chance on an anxious, clumsy, weird nerd like me.”

Paul can feel his own eyes growing warm. Great, now I’m going to start crying too. He clears his throat and holds her shoulders.

“First off, you’re not clumsy, just over-eager and excited. Second, I took a chance on you because I saw someone brilliant and passionate about science. You look at the world, at the universe, and see how cool and amazing it is like I do. Third, you’re welcome. Though I think I should be thanking you.

“You’ve been invaluable to me since Discovery first launched. The way you took my science and work with respect and seriousness. How you there for me when Hugh was gone and after he came back. Being a friend to Adira, to everyone.”

He fondly clasps the back of her neck, “You’re going to be a great teacher. You love to learn, and I know you’ll incite that in others. That, and you see people. Not on the outside but who they are inside and who they have the potential to be.”

Her smile is sincere and poignant, “I learned that from you.”

Chapter Text

Hugh is a giver, has been for as long as he can remember. Generosity, compassion, empathy, and patience are integral to who he is. Being a doctor allowed him to exercise those qualities in a fulfilling manner. He felt invigorated when healing others.

But healings minds prove to be more difficult than healing bodies.

It’s not that he doesn’t know how. All medical personnel in Starfleet are required to take at least one psychology or mental health class. Hugh had taken a few and had a basic grasp on counseling, but he was by no means a licensed one. So, after Tracy appointed him the ship’s counselor, he read and studied the latest texts, particularly those on PTSD and grief counseling.

Injuries and illnesses are easy because Hugh can see those things heal and know when his work is done. But such afflictions in the mind are far harder to see, and the healing process isn’t straightforward or simple. Everyone experiences everything differently. No two people process trauma the same way.

There are steps forward and steps back, and Hugh can’t tell if any of them are healing or not. All he can do is listen, be patient, and give (what he hopes is) sound advice. It’s tiring in ways working a double shift, or back-to-back surgeries can’t compare. Exhaustion settles on him in minute increments. Weighing down his bones, tightening his muscles, clouding his mind, and numbing his emotions.

He shakes all that off, and what he can’t, he pushes it away from his awareness. People are counting on him. They’re all lost, scared, and hurting with no one to turn to but him. So he smiles gently and shrugs off his fatigue and focuses on the person in front of him. What do his needs compare to those of everyone else?

Sitting at his desk, he looks over his notes from today’s sessions. Hugh sighs roughly and runs a hand through his hair. There were his patients and the refugees in the process of being resettled, and— Maybe Kovitch is right, and I do have a savior complex. But I have to help them; if I don’t then what’s the point of me being a doctor? What’s the point of me being alive?

“Hugh?”

“What?” The doctor sharply snapped.

He paled at seeing it was Paul he snapped at. However, Hugh was always careful to temper his anger around Paul. Although his love was still skittish at times when Hugh was irritated, the scars from their fight and ensuing separation made Paul wary.

It took a few tries for Hugh to speak, “I-I’m so sorry, Paul. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to snap I.…”

Instead of drawing away, though, Paul stepped closer and carefully laid a hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to. You never do unless something’s wrong. What is it?”

Hugh sighs and shuts off his PADD. The holodisplays are nice, but some tech he’s too familiar with to give up right away. Paul turns his chair until Hugh’s facing him and draws him into a hug. Hugh rests his head against Paul’s stomach and feels tension he didn’t know he was carrying leech out of him. The tight control Hugh has over his emotions starts to crack.

He swallows thickly, “It’s nothing; I’m fine.”

Paul huffs a laugh, “First off, that’s my line. Second, no, you’re not. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking more tired even after waking up. I can’t remember the last time you played one of your opera songs either.”

Hugh tries for levity, “Thought you didn’t like those?”

“Not the point. You’ve thrown your whole self into helping the crew heal their minds and hearts. I admire that, but you need to take care of yourself too… or let someone take care of you.”

“Are you volunteering?”

“Gladly,” Paul quipped. “And we’ll start by going home, having a quiet dinner together, and then getting comfortable and talking through what’s bothering you.”

He gently pulled Hugh up from his chair and wrapped him in a soothing hug. Hugh closed his eyes and savored the warmth, love, and support of his partner. He sagged against Paul and relished being able to lean on someone for a change, even for a moment.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner was a quiet, peaceful affair. Paul did most of the talking, which Hugh appreciated. It took his mind off his own issues and allowed him to rest. Paul talked about Tilly and her latest message about the Academy and settling into her role as an instructor. However, he didn’t mention the anomaly or Tarka. Hugh wondered if there was a reason for that or if Paul was trying to keep things light.

Once the plates have been cleared, Paul sets two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table. He lightly takes Hugh’s arm and leads him to the couch. He settles on the cushions, and Paul wraps a heavy but soft afghan blanket around them both. Hugh curls into Paul’s side while Paul wraps an arm around him, fingers gently stroking his back.

“I know I said we’d talk about what’s bothering you, but if you don’t feel up to it, we don’t have to,” Paul murmurs.

Hugh values the offered out, and he’s tempted to take it. But he’d be no better than the people he’s counseled who were running away from their problems. As the ship’s counselor, he doesn’t have anyone to turn to for professional help, though he has something better. He has a patient, devoted, and supportive partner ready and willing to help Hugh however he can.

Hugh just has to be brave enough to reach out.

“I know Kovitch is right about me using work as a crutch and needing to take a break. I’ve always wanted to help people, but I guess I have been taking on more than I should. Even during the war, I was never like this.”

This feels like the start of an admission of failure. Paul says nothing, only continuing his gentle meditative touches. Fingers gently caressed his body and lips occasionally brushing his forehead or hair. The warmth and silent support give Hugh the strength to continue.

“I think it’s because… I died and came back. No one else has ever gotten the same chance we have. I’m incredibly grateful for it, believe me. But sometimes I feel guilty, like why do I deserve this chance? What did I do? I felt like there had to be a greater reason behind it all, a purpose. Otherwise,” Hugh huffs a bitter laugh, “I’m a walking offense to everyone who has lost someone.”

Paul pressed a firm kiss to his hairline, “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I don’t know. A while, maybe? I only realized it recently, or Kovitch did and helpfully pointed it out.” Hugh sighs, “It’s not just about proving there’s a reason for me being alive. I want to show I’m not wasting this chance.”

“You have nothing to prove to anyone. Taking a break doesn’t mean you’re wasting anything, Hugh. You have the patience of a saint, but you’re still human, and you need rest.”

“I know,” a darker fear creeps up, and Hugh says, “though what if I stop and realize I don’t want to do this anymore? What then?”

Paul’s answer is certain, gentle, and reassures Hugh down to his soul, “We’ll cross that bridge if we have to. At the core of who you are, I know you’ll always want to help people. The way you do it might change, but that will still be who you are.”

Hugh curls even closer to Paul until he’s nearly in the man’s lap as if seeking shelter from the storm inside, battering his emotions. Paul seems to sense this for her pulls Hugh’s legs across his lap and tucks the blanket more securely around them.

“I just don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

Paul slowly runs his hand up and down Hugh’s thigh, “I think this is more about coming to terms with what you feel rather than stopping it. You can’t stop or start an emotion; you can only go with it as best you can.”

Hearing a variation of his own advice, Hugh huffs a self-deprecating laugh, “Now I’m starting to see how useless that advice is.”

“It’s not useless. You want a shortcut to feeling better, but there isn’t one. So you have to take the long way, though you won’t do it alone. You have Tracy, the kids, and me. Always.”

Hugh smiles softly, “How did you get so good at counseling people?”

Paul tips his chin up for a kiss and then says, “I learned from watching the best.”

Chapter Text

Paul sits at his console with his chin propped in his palm, staring at the spore cube. Or rather staring at the space where their model of the DMA had been earlier.

“I hope I’m not interrupting any important musings,” Saru’s voice is quiet and polite like always.

“Hmm? Oh, no, I was just… thinking,” Paul sighs.

It’s all he’s been doing, it feels like, thoughts running around in aimless circles.

“About today’s experiment?” Saru guessed. “It may not have been a success by yours or Mr. Tarka’s standards, but—”

“No, not about that, well technically yes, but.” Paul pauses and then sighs, “Reno’s right, I almost did get us all killed. And for what?”

“To find out more behind this bizarre and dangerous phenomena.”

He rests his forehead in his hand, “And what good would that have done anyone if we were dead? I know Tarka said he wouldn’t do anything that would endanger his own life and, by extension ours.

“But I know when you get close to a breakthrough or some discovery… you lose sight of everything around you. You think only about achieving what feels so close no matter the cost.”

“It sounds like you understand Mr. Tarka.”

“Unfortunately,” Paul bitterly snorts and then sobers. “There’s a lot about him that rubs me the wrong way. The worst though is when I look at him, I see what I could’ve become. I could’ve turned into him if I didn’t have people like Justin, Hugh, or Tilly in my life.”

Justin had pulled Paul away from their work and helped him build connections with other people. Hugh showed him there was more to life than science, like love for someone that ran deep into his soul. Tilly brought out the teacher in Paul and another friend to whether life’s worst storms with.

“I get what it’s like to be smarter than most people. Forming connections with others becomes hard because it feels like no one can keep up with you or understand you,” Paul grimaces, remembering his own difficulties growing up. “So, you isolate yourself and bury yourself under work.”

“Perhaps with that understanding, the two of you could form a friendlier working relationship,” Saru suggests. Paul gives him a withering glare, and the Kelpien backpaddles, “Or not.”

“I may understand where he’s coming from, but I still don’t like him. Something about him doesn’t feel right to me.” Paul sighs through his nose, “Or maybe that’s my bruised and battered ego talking.”

Saru slowly shook his head, “I don’t think it is. Perhaps when we first served together, I might’ve said differently, but not now, not after everything you’ve done. You are more compassionate and empathetic than you give yourself credit for. And because of that, I highly doubt you would’ve turned into anything like Mr. Tarka even without the people you have in your life.”

Paul blinks, feeling stunned and touched at the captain’s reassurance. “Wow, um, thank you.”

Saru nods and then adds, “If I may advise, do not discount your instincts. Both our species have them for a reason: to protect us from danger, even if the threat is not apparent. Mr. Tarka does have an unsettling air about him, I will admit.”

Paul nods then asks, “Was there a reason you came down here?”

“It’s getting late, and I’ve heard you’ve been spending many long nights here lately. I’m sure you’d appreciate sleeping in your own bed, though not as much as I’m sure Dr. Culber would.”

Paul takes the hint. “I’m sure we’d both appreciate that. And—wait, who told you I was still down here?”

Saru points up at the ceiling, “Zora.”

“Zora, did you snitch on me?”

“My prime directive is the health and safety of this crew. So, my ‘snitching,’ as you put it, is justified if it means fulfilling my prime directive.”

Saru looks slightly amused, and Paul can’t find it in himself to be annoyed. He shuts off his computer and puts away the rest of his work, resolving not to touch it until the morning. He deserved a night of uninterrupted snuggling, and he knew Hugh did too.

Chapter Text

“I thought you loved me,” Paul gripes.

He leans his hip against the kitchen counter, watching his sister Chelsea finish cooking dinner. He sips a glass of wine to help prepare him for dealing with their parents. It would be so much better if Hugh were here. They had agreed to spend Christmas Eve and day with their respective families and meet up for New Year’s Eve after Chelsea had begged Paul to spend the holidays with them.

“I do love you, and I know you love me, which is why you’re here.” She opens the oven door to check on the cooking ham. “Mom bitched about you missing Thanksgiving so much I thought Grandmama was going to carve into her instead of the turkey.”

Paul did regret missing that holiday, but only because of their grandmother’s absurdly delicious cooking. Chelsea tucks a strand of dark honey blond hair behind her ear and straightens out the apron she has tied over her red dress.

“So, you have me here to make her happy or at least act as a buffer if she starts complaining?”

“Support, Paul, support,” she clarifies and goes to chop vegetables for the salad.

Paul was slightly surprised she was cooking everything by hand, not that she couldn’t cook. Chelsea had spent many hours in the kitchen with their grandmother, like Paul with their grandfather in the garden. Though he knows why she’s going through all this trouble.

“You know she’ll find something to criticize or complain about,” Paul gently points out.

That seemed to be a hobby of their mother’s. Nothing they did measured up to her expectations or when she did it herself. The holidays for the Stamets family were more about show, projecting an illusion of a magazine perfect holiday. It was wearing stiff clothing, sitting quietly, and touching nothing.

She sets the knife down with a sigh, “I know. I tell myself it’s for us, but really… I want us to have a nice dinner like any normal loving family. Hugh and Brian have that, so why can’t we? Just for once?”

It seemed ironic that both their spouses came from large yet close-knit families. While theirs was reserved and distant with relatives spread out on and off Earth. Paul understood what she was asking for, and it was something he had wanted at one point. Until he got older and buried such an impossible desire deep down.

Paul’s nineteen-month-old niece, Elizabeth, toddles into the kitchen carrying a stuffed reindeer. He smiles and scoops up the little tyke, settling her on his hip. She wore a glittery red dress with matching bows in her softly curled blond hair.

“Hi, Liz-bit. You ready to face your grandparents?”

She waves her toy, “Reindeer!”

“Yes, that is a reindeer. How many reindeer does Santa have?”

“Eight!”

Paul kissed her temple, “Good girl.”

Just then, Paul’s brother-in-law pops his head in. “Oi, looks like they’re here.”

Brian, a dark-haired Irishman with a caring, merry nature, stepped inside. Paul had been hesitant about him since it’d been him and Chelsea for so long. But instead of usurping his place in her life, Brian pulled Paul closer in. They bonded over being outdoorsmen and music. Brian even bonded with Hugh due to their similar personalities and love of soccer.

“Great,” Chelsea sighs, “The food isn’t even done yet.”

“Ah, don’t worry, love,” he pecks her cheek. “We’ll keep’em busy, right Paul?”

Paul steeled himself. This is for Chelsea; we can have one night of being a well-adjusted family. He swallows down the rest of his wine. God, I wish Hugh was here.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner is as awkward and stilted as Paul dreaded it’d be. Their mother, Rebecca, prattles on about her latest public relations event she hosted for some company Paul can’t recall. Their father, Frederick, steadily ate his dinner, not contributing or paying attention to the conversation.

Paul stifles a sigh; some things never change, I guess. His eyes slid to Chelsea at his right, who nodded along to what their mother was saying and trying to keep Lizzie from making a mess. His niece seemed more interested in finger painting with her mashed potatoes than eating them.

Their mother shot a disapproving look at the little girl, “Don’t you think Elizabeth should know to eat her food and not play with it?”

“Mom, don’t,” Chelsea sighed, “Lizzie’s not even two yet; she’s fine.”

Rebecca sniffed, “Well, I just mean if she doesn’t have basic table manners, then maybe she’s a little… slow or something. You should have her tested.”

To his left, Paul sees Brian grimace, and both prepare for a fight to break out.

“I’ll… think about it.”

Rebecca scoffs, “That means you won’t do it. You never do anything I suggest. I raised you children, so I know what I’m talking about.”

Paul can’t help himself, but he scoffs audibly into his glass. She turns her haughty eyes on him.

“Are you finally going to talk to us, Paul?”

Paul knew he could say no and go back to eating like he always did growing up. He never talked much around their parents, mainly because their mother shut down anything he had to say that wasn’t relevant to her. Their father was too wrapped up in his work to notice anything Paul said.

“Only that you barely raised us, so I don’t know how much you could offer in advice.”

Chelsea looks between aghast and amused at his audacity, Brian presses his lips, but that doesn’t hide his smile. Rebecca huffs and straightens up, gearing up for some passive-aggressive talk down.

“At least Chelsea has done something with her life, settling down and having a family. But you still play in the dirt and study some obscure science. Why can’t you put that aside for something more suitable like finding someone?”

Paul tightly grips his fork. “It’s called astromycology, and I like studying it. And I do have someone. I’ve been seeing him for three years now.”

He has the brief satisfaction of seeing her speechless, but then she says. “Really? You’ve been dating someone for that long and haven’t brought him to meet us? Oh, Paul, it’s embarrassing that you have to lie instead of admitting you’re not seeing anyone.”

His face heats up, and his throat closes in shame.

Brian comes to his rescue, “Actually, we’ve met Hugh. He’s a good man, and he really likes Paul.”

“It’s just a bit farfetched, is all.” She primly defends. “I mean, you are a bit… prickly and hard to be around, Paul. You never smile, and you’re always so sarcastic, and a know-it-all, which I must say is not attractive.”

Paul says nothing to that and stares resolutely at his plate. She continues on about herself like nothing happened. Once dinner is over, Paul excuses himself from the table and heads upstairs to the guest room. Inside, Chelsea is packing his bag.

“What are you doing?”

She stops to look at him, “Sending you to Puerto Rico, to Hugh. What Mother said was out of line. I shouldn’t have made you come here and put up with them. Christmas is supposed to be about spending time with people you love, not ones who hurt you just because they’re family.”

Paul looks at his bag, then his sister, “What about our parents?”

She shrugs, “I’ll deal with them. I think it’s high time our mother got a talking to for once.”

“And you’re going to have me miss that?” Paul jokes.

“I’ll have Brian record it and send it to you as a gift.”

She zips his overnight bag and hands it to him. Touched by her gesture, he takes it and hugs her.

“Thank you and Merry Christmas.”

Chelsea smiles and rubs his arms, “You’re welcome, and give Hugh my love.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There’s a layer of humidity in the Puerto Rican air, even in late December. Paul hails a shuttle before losing his nerve. Hugh and his parents made it clear multiple times that he was welcome in their home whenever. It still felt like Paul was overstepping by appearing at their house, unannounced. But he couldn’t bring himself to call, his mother’s words still stinging. Hugh would immediately know something was wrong if Paul spoke before getting himself under control.

Paul steps off the shuttle and hesitates before the house. All the lights are on, and he can hear the laughter and music filtering outside. Paul was torn between wanting to go inside and be part of the warm, loving family and wanting to run. No one would notice if he was there or not. His mother was right about him being hard to be around. Maybe it’d be better if he walked away now and not risk ruining anything.

“Paul?” Hugh’s mother steps outside and gives him a hug. “I thought I saw you out here. Hugh said you weren’t coming until New Year’s.”

“Change of plans,” he lies. “I hope it’s okay I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t call but….”

Lucinda waved off the apology, “It’s no trouble, and you are always welcome here. Hugh’s going to be so happy to see you.”

She heads up the steps but stops when she notices Paul isn’t following her. “What is it?”

Paul stammers to come up for a reason why he’s hesitating. Lucinda seems to misinterpret it as something else and smiles impishly. “Or would rather I get Hugh so the two of you can get reacquainted without a crowd?”

“Uh… well…”

She chuckles, “You stay right there.”

Paul bit his lip and clutched the strap of his bag. What am I doing here? I should’ve gone back to Deneva. The lab would be peacefully quiet since Justin is visiting his sisters.

“Paul?” Hugh’s grin is bright and beautiful. He nearly tackles Paul in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Paul melts into the embrace and holds on tight. Hugh feels like home. His love is palpable and such an antithesis to where Paul just came from. He buries his face in Hugh’s neck and tries not to cry. Hugh gently rubs his back and kisses his temple.

“Are you okay? Mom said you came here because of a change of plans.”

“Yeah,” Paul murmurs, not ready to leave the comfort of Hugh’s arms. “Everyone’s fine, but… can we talk about it later?”

“Sure.”

They eventually make their way inside, and Paul is met with warmth and welcome. Hugh’s relatives smile and hug him and ask how he is. There’s no criticism or judgment from anyone. The cold tenseness from his own family slowly melts away amongst the comrade and familial love. Paul sticks close to Hugh, and if his partner notices, he says nothing. Instead, Hugh wraps an arm around Paul and lightly runs his fingers across his skin.

Chelsea was right. This is what I needed. To be around people who care, he cuddles closer to Hugh, who love me.

Mugs of coffee and hot chocolate and platters of cookies are passed out. Kids scramble to help pass out gifts, and Paul is surprised to receive a few. Paul slips out to the back deck during the festive commotion. He leans forward against the railing, mug of hot chocolate in hand. The drink is velvety and sweet on his tongue. He looks up at the sky and marvels at how many stars he can see here than at his sister’s house near San Francisco.

Hugh steps up beside him and slips his arm around his waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed a break from,” Paul vaguely waves back to the house, “everything.”

They stand in comfortable silence. The warmth of Hugh’s body pairs nicely with the cool night air.

“You seem to be feeling better. You looked pretty shaken when you came,” Hugh says quietly.

Paul hears the subtle invitation to talk about his unexpected but welcomed appearance. Another thing Paul loves about Hugh is how he won’t push Paul to speak if he doesn’t want to. Hugh is endlessly patient, and he’ll be forever grateful.

“Just… my parents being difficult to be around. My mother said some stuff, and” Paul shrugs as if her words had no effect on him. “I didn’t run away. Chelsea said I should come here, said Christmas is supposed to be with people you love and—”

Hugh kisses his cheek and then lips. His hand lingers on Paul’s jaw, “I’m glad you listened to her because she’s right. I’m sorry your mother hurt you, but my family is yours. We’ll always want you here.”

Paul rested their foreheads together, “I love you.”

Hugh smiles warmly and kisses him again, “I love you too, and Merry Christmas.”

Chapter Text

It’s nearing lunchtime, and Hugh knows Paul isn’t going to remember to eat, not with everything going on. His partner has become more absorbed in work than during the war though thankfully hasn’t completely fallen back to old habits. Personally grabbing Paul and dragging him to go eat gives Hugh the benefit of getting Paul to eat and physically walk away from his office. He needs a break too, and actually walking away feels better than just teleporting.

He steps into Engineering and sees how deserted it is. Maybe he’s in the cultivation bay? Soft voices catch his ear, and Hugh follows.

“Okay, now I know you’re lying.”

“I’m serious.”

“A cat breed that’s hairless?”

“Yes, they’re called Sphynx cats. It’s a genetic mutation that makes them hairless, appeared sometime in the mid-20th century.”

He peeks around the corner and sees Paul and Booker sitting on the floor facing each other. Grudge lies boneless in Paul’s lap as his fingers work through her fur.

“If I ever need a reason to visit Earth, it’ll be just to see one of those. Why would anyone want a hairless cat?”

Paul shrugged, “People thought they were cute, I guess.”

“At least people wouldn’t have to worry about little tumbleweeds of fur all over their house.” Book gives Grudge a meaningful look to which she stares placidly back. “How do you know all this?”

Paul’s smile is wistful, “My grandmother used to breed cats, usually Birmans and Ragdolls. She had a Siamese too and had conversations with. She had a lot of books on different cat breeds, and as a kid, I read everything I could get my hands on.”

Book nods in understanding, “Spend a lot of time with her?”

“And my grandfather. My parents… weren’t around much.”

Hugh remembers the strained relationship between Paul and his parents. Paul was always reluctant to talk about them and didn’t meet them in person until a few years into their relationship.

“My parents and grandparents were close with us, our communities were tight-knit, and…” Book swallows and clears his throat. “So, what other cat breeds are there?”

Paul goes with the change of subject, “There’s the Norwegian Forest cat; you could say they’re Grudge’s cousins. Huge and fluffy and…”

Hugh quietly backs away with a smile and leaves the two men to their conversation. He could always grab Paul for an early dinner later.

Chapter Text

They’re running down the catwalk, fire raging around them as the ship lurches and—

No

The forest is dark, and the moon hides its light. The leaves rustle, and their heart races in fear. Is it the spies they’ve been hunting? Or are they hunting them now? Is—

No

The shuttle and the passengers shriek as it hurtles towards the ground. Controls are unresponsive. They can’t die. Not their students; they’re just kids. They—

“Stop!” Adira cries, lurching upward in bed.

Their quarters are quiet, the lights off and starlight filtering in through the viewport. Adira takes a few shaky breaths and runs a hand through their hair. They stroke the blankets on their lap, grounding themselves with each touch. This is the fourth night in a row Adira’s had nightmares of events that never happened to them.

But to Tal.

Adira leaned forward and buried their face in their hands, elbows braced against knees. Keeping the other hosts separate from Adira was manageable in the daylight hours. When they worked and lived and could almost forget they had six other people living inside them. But at night, Adira’s guard was down even subconsciously and was beset by memories from everyone who came before. Some memories were pleasant, funny, bittersweet, or painful.

Others were downright nightmarish.

Adira didn’t know whose memories belonged to who when they dreamed. My own memories could be mixed in, and I wouldn’t know. That tired, sarcastic thought brings up a familiar fear. They lift their head and look down at their hands. They had so few memories of their own past, their life before Gray’s death. Those they did were jumbled up with the other hosts’ memories. It took so much mental energy to sift through all those other memories to find theirs, only fragmented and faded bits.

What were their real likes and dislikes and not Tals? What were they actually good at, and what was influenced by Tal? What parts of their personality were theirs, and what was Tals?

I don’t think I know who Adira is.

The thought scares Adira more than the nightmares. If they weren’t Adira, then who were they? Were they an actual person or a puppet for the symbiote?

Forgoing sleep (and any more nightmares), they pull up their tricomm and start working on a set of calculations and codes. Busying themselves until morning, where their nightmares and self-doubt would fade.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Adira couldn’t quite shake off the thick fog that permeated their brain. Their eyes itched, and their body felt so heavy. Coffee did little to alleviate any of that, and they had to be careful how much they drank.

(They were pretty sure Paul and Hugh set up some sort of alarm to alert them if Adira replicated so many cups of coffee.)

“Adira, did you finish— Adira?” Paul asks them a question, yet their mind can’t form an answer.

He gently touches them, and they start. “What?”

“Are you okay? You look tired.”

Irritation flares in their chest, and they bit back the urge to yell. Instead, they straighten up and try to look more awake than they feel.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Paul doesn’t look convinced. “If something’s bothe—”

“I said I’m fine!”

He raises an eyebrow, and Adira regrets snapping, if only because now it proved they weren’t fine. They bury their face in their hands, fingers gripping their hair.

“Leave me alone.”

Adira didn’t really expect that to work and isn’t entirely surprised when Paul doesn’t leave. Instead, he draws closer and sets his hand on their back. His kind gesture only aggravates their irritation. They snap to their feet and bat his hand away.

“Would you stop! I don’t need you to comfort me; I’m not a child!”

Paul looks taken aback by their outburst but not angry. His voice sounds patient and sincere, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Comfort isn’t exclusive to children, but if you really want me to leave you alone, I will.”

His gentle response quelches Adira’s anger. Tears spring to their eyes instead of more harsh words. Damn it, they just wanted to sleep….

“Hey, hey, come here,” Paul gently pulls them close.

Adira rests all their weight against him, exhaustion taking over. In his arms, they feel safe like, no nightmare or terrible thing could touch them.

He soothingly rubs their back, “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep. I keep… having nightmares. But they’re not mine. They’re from the other Tals.”

Paul doesn’t stop his ministrations, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Adira shrugs, “I thought the nightmares would go away, but they aren’t.”

The scientist is silent for a minute, then he wraps his arm around Adira’s shoulders and guides them into the cultivation bay. Adira leans against Paul, trying not to stumble or fall in their fatigued state. He sits down in an out-of-the-way spot and tugs Adira down to sit.

“I know you need a proper eight hours of sleep, but I think a quick cat nap would do you some good.”

He pulls off his jacket, wraps it around Adira, and arranges them so their head rests in his lap. The floor doesn’t compare to a bed, but Paul’s warm jacket and soft lap make up for it. Adira feels his hand on their arm; the touch is light though grounding. The comfort, love, and safety give Adira the courage to voice another fear.

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not just the nightmares that keep me up. It’s… I’m afraid I don’t know who I am.”

Adira can feel his questioning look, but he doesn’t move them or speak. They pull the jacket tighter around them.

“I don’t remember much of my life before Gray died. My memories are mixed up with Tal’s, and it’s hard to sort through everyone’s memories to find mine. I don’t know what I truly like or not, what am I good at, and just who I am without wondering if Tal is influencing any of that.

“Every day, I wake up feeling one of them more than the others, but I don’t know if I’ve ever woken up and felt like Adira. And maybe I would never know if I did.”

Paul squeezes their shoulder and gently strokes their arm. “I know at your age, this is where you start to figure out who you are. Everyone else, though, has a starting point, but you don’t really do since you scarcely remember your past. You have nothing to build on and you have more… internal influences than most. You and Gray were joined pretty young, weren’t you?”

Adira nodded, “Yeah, Senna had died, and an immediate host was needed; otherwise, Tal would’ve died too. Gray was the only available person. He always planned to become a host, but he wanted to wait until he was older and had more experience. Said it’d make him look better when he applied to be joined.”

He makes a soft, thoughtful noise. “Maybe Gray could talk to the other hosts and ask them to keep their nightmares to themselves?”

“Maybe.”

“I also think it’d be a good idea for you to talk to Hugh. He knows better than most what it’s like to be lost in your own body. He could maybe help you find a way to sort through the Tals and find Adira.”

Find Adira. They liked the sound of that.

Paul’s hand moves up to their hair, calming strokes that made Adira relax more. “But you still need a nap first. You can talk to Hugh later.”

Adira hums in agreement and closes their eyes.

Chapter Text

The intrepid photographer stealthily weaves through the alien foliage.

Snap!

Okay, maybe not that stealthily….

The photographer cringes at the sharp sound of a twig snapping under her knee. She pauses and, hearing no cry of alarm, continues crawling on.

She is on the hunt for a rare breed. Scientist domesticus, colloquially known as bobcat, prefers a forestry habitat. This preference sets this one apart from its fellow members as they prefer man-made habitats with steel and metal. This scientist is further set apart by having a child, or kitten, following or helping them dig in the dirt for plant life.

Fortunately, the subjects have not been alerted to her presence. The parent continues to soothe his kitten with gentle strokes. But the photographer knows the parent’s gentleness belies a fierce protectiveness for the kitten that, when roused, can be vicious. The kitten sleeps peacefully, bundled up in their parent’s coat and with their head resting in their parent’s lap.

The parent satisfied his kitten is sleeping, closes his own eyes. The photographer cannot say for certain if he is resting or savoring this quiet moment or both. But she does know for certain that the parent will snap to attention if any hint of danger appears. Thus, the photographer must take extra caution to capture this rare scene.

Gently moving aside the branches, she positions her camera and… click! Success! The photo has been secured, and the parent and kitten didn’t notice. Silently jubilant, the photographer sneaks further back into the sheltering canopy.

*~*~*~*

Tilly grins at the photo she sneakily took. It was rare to see Paul unguarded like this, not to mention so parental with Adira. She hopes Paul won’t be too mad about taking the picture without permission… if he finds out.

Chapter Text

Therapy, it turns out, does not have a one-size-fits-all treatment. Each person responds differently to different forms. Some like to talk through their issues to untangle their problems. Others find writing, art, or music to be helpful. Hugh wades through the different forms of therapy available with the hope of finding something for anyone who approaches him for help.

He has one patient who all but refuses to speak during their sessions and often leaves before discussing anything heavy. Hugh has tried other ways to help him open up, with little success. He won’t give up, though, which leads him to ask Booker for a favor.

“Can I borrow Grudge?”

To the other man’s credit, he doesn’t balk at the strange favor. Instead, he blinks and asks, “Paul having a bad day?”

It’s heartwarming and telling how well Booker knows Paul. Hugh’s lips twitch up in a smile, “No, she’s not for him. I want to try a form of therapy I read about; I think it might help one of the crewmen.”

“And you need a cat for that?”

“Any animal would work, really. Tribbles are usually used, but since they’re endangered, the waiting list for one is pretty long. I was hoping Grudge could help until then.”

Endangered was a word Hugh never thought would be applied to tribbles. However, a crippling fertility disease and an invasive predator soon made that the case. The animals had been relocated to a new planet and multiple animal sanctuaries. But their breeding rates were still significantly lower than they had been, making them rare commodities. Requestioning one was a long process with an even longer waitlist, even with a valid medical reason to have one.

Booker seems to be considering the idea. He sighs, “Alright, but if she gets annoyed or upset, you bring her back.”

Hugh finds himself with a massive armful of fluff and an overly detailed litany of instructions from Booker. He walks back to his office carrying his new assistant, and no one he passes bats an eye to the sight. I suppose because they’ve seen stranger things than someone carrying a large cat.

His appointment isn’t scheduled to start quite yet, so his office is empty for now. Hugh sets Grudge down on the couch and flutily brushes cat hair off his sweater. The cat sniffs around and looks up at Hugh with what he swears is a questioning look.

He sits down opposite her, “All I need you to do is sit there and be petted. Sound like a good deal?”

Grudge lays down, her sizeable paws tucked primly to her chest.

The door chimes and Bryce walks in. Hugh smiled at him and his slight starting at seeing Grudge on the couch.

“Hello, I hope you don’t mind Grudge joining us today.”

“Uh, no?” The younger man carefully sits on the other end of the furniture.

The feline languidly stretches and pads closer to Bryce. She sniffs him over and deeming him suitable commandeers his lap. Bryce looks utterly confused.

“You can pet her. I’ve been assured she doesn’t bite. I know opening up and talking about some things isn’t easy, so I thought having her here might help you.”

“How is a cat going to help me in,” Bryce hesitates on the next word, “therapy.”

His hand has already settled on Grudge, and he’s stroking down her back almost absently. Grudge’s eyes close peacefully, and she begins purring.

“Cats can be a calming influence when feeling stressed or anxious. Some people feel more comfortable talking to the animal than the actual counselor.”

Bryce seems to consider this. His fingers flex under Grudge’s chin, eliciting a louder purr. His lips twitch up in a smile, and Hugh considers that a good sign that this might work. Despite being a communications officer, Bryce ironically spoke less than anyone else. He never spoke much unless prompted, more focused on listening. But Hugh had noticed him becoming more withdrawn and reluctant to speak.

“Is there anything, in particular, you’d like to talk about today? Or we could pick up where we left off last week?”

The comms officer shifts uncomfortably and doesn’t meet Hugh’s eyes. Another benefit to using Grudge is that it’s hard to get up and leave when one has a 12-pound cat on their lap. Hugh isn’t trying to hurt Bryce, but he can’t have the young man running away from his problems.

Hugh takes pity on him and says lightly, “Or you could sit here and pet Grudge for a while. I’m sure she’d like that plan.”

She blinks lazily at hearing her name.

Bryce continues to steadily pet the cat, but Hugh can tell he’s gathering his thoughts and weighing his next words.

“I feel like everyone forgot about me while I was on the Curie. I didn’t hear much from Gen or Keyla or Joan. I wrote it off as everyone being busy, but” he trails off with a shrug.

“But it still kind of hurt,” Hugh gently supplies.

“Yeah,” he’s silent a moment, then adds. “My family did that. Forget about me. After the war, I went back home for a while. Not all of my family was happy to see me.”

He tries to breathe slowly through remembered pain. Grudge stretches and rests her paw on his hand not petting her.

“Any pictures of me had been taken down. My stuff was packed up and shoved in the attic. I’d been proclaimed dead, so I was… to them at least. That’s why I came to the future. If I was dead to them, then I might as well make it true.”

Hugh nods in understanding and feels some pride in the young man for opening up.

“And you felt like that was happening again after returning from the Curie?”

They talk for almost the whole allotted hour. Again, there are starts and stops, but the conversation this time moves far more forward than previous ones. Grudge was content through the session. She mostly laid on Bryce’s lap but sometimes changed position or gave a chirping meow as if putting in her two cents.

After Bryce left, Hugh carried Grudge back to Booker. His gamble had paid off and now Hugh was making a mental list of who else he could use his new assistant with.

Chapter Text

Paul sighed for the 36th time today, and yes, Justin had been keeping count. He didn’t have to look up to know his lab partner was staring longingly at his PADD, waiting for a message from his dear doctor.

It was just the two of them in the lab. Paul had given the others the remainder of the day off in a rare moment of generosity. Justin was fairly certain it was because Paul couldn’t maintain the façade of being okay when severely missing his beau.

“I know what’ll cheer you up. How about a little music? Something you could sing to, maybe?”

Music was as intrinsic to Paul as mushrooms. If anything could lighten his mood, even a little, it was that.

Paul immediately nixes that idea, “No.”

“Come on, there’s no one here but us, and I’m sure the kids would love to hear you serenade them,” Justin tries to wheedle.

“No.”

“It’ll be good for the kids. Music helps plants grow, so it should work for mushrooms too, right?”

“First off,” Paul levels a flat unimpressed look at him, “don’t compare our mushrooms to common plants. Second, no.”

“At least let me play something to fill the silence and cover your pining sighs.”

Paul flushed, indignant, “I am not pining!”

Justin gave him a flat, unbelieving look, “Sure you’re not.”

He tapped his PADD, bringing up a vast list of music and songs. Let’s see, let’s see… He scrolls through a few until he finds the right one. He taps the play icon and waits with surety that his distraction plan will work. Paul tries to resist, but Justin can see his fingers tapping along on the table.

The song ends, and Justin hits replay. Paul gives him a tepid glare but then starts humming to go with the finger tapping. A third round and he finally starts to quietly sing.

“Don’t breathe too deep,
Don’t think all day.
Dive into work, drive the other way,”

Justin grinned as Paul’s voice grew louder, and he shed his melancholy. Mission accomplished.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh smiled as he walked down the halls of the building towards Paul’s lab. His ship was getting repaired and resupplied at the space station next to Deneva. It would be there for at least two days, so he took the opportunity to surprise Paul. Unfortunately, communications had been spotty in the sector they’d been traveling through, making messaging and comms near impossible. Over two weeks of being unable to talk to Paul was maddening, and he’s sure the feeling was mutual.

He paused before the door when his ears caught hold of a faint sound on the other side. It sounded like music… and singing? Moreover, the vocals sounded live instead of from a speaker. Intrigued, Hugh steps inside and stops in awe.

Paul doesn’t see him enter, too enthralled in the music. Justin does see Hugh but says nothing and only winks with a finger to his lips. Hugh gets the message; he certainly doesn’t want to interrupt this. Paul is stunning, and his voice sounds downright heavenly to Hugh’s ears. Paul never said he could sing. He mentioned in passing once he did theater years ago, but that was it.

His boyfriend looked so free and passionate. Hugh could hear him pouring his heart into the lyrics. If Paul always sang like this, then Hugh would get Paul to serenade him whenever possible. Finally, the song faded to a close and Paul looked joyful.

Justin clapped, “See? I told you it would help, and the kids seemed to appreciate it, though not as much as Hugh I bet.”

Paul looks confused until he turns and sees Hugh standing at the door. The doctor gives a sheepish wave. All the color drains from Paul’s face only to come rushing back a second later.

“You knew he was there?!” Paul snarls at Justin.

Unconcerned with Paul’s tone, the other scientist shrugged, “Well, yeah. You enjoyed yourself, and I thought your boyfriend would enjoy a free show. I mean—oh shit!”

He yelps when Paul tears after him. Justin weaves past tables and chairs with surprising swiftness. He ducks into the attached greenhouse and slams the door shut, locking Paul, and his murderous intent, out.

Paul pounds on the door, “You can’t stay in there forever.”

“Watch me!”

Scowling, he stomps away from the door to his workstation. His shoulders sag, and he covers his eyes with one hand.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Hugh grins and walks over to him, “I’ve seen you and Justin fight worse than that.”

Paul sighs, “Not what I meant. I meant seeing me….”

He drops his hand, but he doesn’t look at Hugh, and his cheeks are flushed with shame.

“Seeing you sing?”

The flush deepens. “Yeah.”

Hugh rests his hand on Paul’s arm and slowly travels up to his shoulder. It’s heartbreaking to see Paul look so chagrined over something that clearly gave him joy. His hand slips around Paul’s jaw. The blond still doesn’t look up, but he does lean into the touch.

“Why would you be sorry for me hearing you sing? You sounded amazing.”

Paul’s blue eyes flit up to meet Hugh’s. “Really?”

“Yes, and I would love to hear more of that.”

The shame receded from Paul’s face and was replaced with a hesitant hope. “You’d be one of the few.”

“Fine with me, that means I get to have your lovely singing more to myself.” Hugh pulls him closer into his arms, “Why didn’t you tell me you could sing?”

Paul shrugged, “I got teased a lot for it growing up, family and classmates and… past boyfriends. Di didn’t think you’d want to hear me, so….”

A familiar burn of protectiveness flares in Hugh’s heart at hearing how Paul had been hurt. Paul was so much more sensitive than people knew, more so in his younger years, Hugh bet. He can see the scars left by people’s callous and dismissive remarks on Paul. The protectiveness gives way to his desire to heal his love’s hurt.

“I will always want to hear what you have to say, whether you say it or sing it. I love listening to you, and I’ll never tire of hearing your voice.”

Paul is dangerously close to being teary-eyed. He rests his forehead against Hugh’s. “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

There were a lot of thoughts running through Hugh’s head. Chief among them were treating the radiation damage, reuniting with the rest of the crew, and finding Paul. Adira clung to his side, and he kept one arm tightly wrapped around their shoulders. Physically they were less worse off than him and Saru. Still, it had to be upsetting to finally touch Gray, only to lose him again.

Once they set foot in Federation HQ, they were quickly hustled to the medbay. Tracy dropped what she was doing when she spied them and nearly ran to Hugh. She snapped her arms around him in a fierce hug.

“You are a damn, mad fool, you know that? I’m never letting you off the ship,” she muttered.

“Not my fault things went to hell,” he lightly argued back. Then, he hugged her closer, “I missed you too.”

Tracy stepped back and swiftly swiped at her eyes, the emotional moment over and her sense of professionalism taking over.

“Come over here so I can fix you both up; you look fit to fall over.”

She dragged them over to a nearby biobed, and he and Adira sat down. He saw many of the beds and chairs occupied by injured crewmen. His heart eased a little when he didn’t see Paul among them. Instead, he saw Owo in a bed with Keyla sitting next to her, talking. Bryce and Rhys hung nearby them. Reno sat with some of her engineers farther down the room. Booker looked like he’d been put through the wringer. Though he was sitting up and had his arm around Michael, who appeared close to tears.

But where’s Paul?

Tilly walked in looking haggard and exhausted. However, she immediately brightened with relief when she saw Hugh and Adira. He pulled her into a hug, and she held him with a familiar warm intensity.

“Oh God, it’s so good to see you,” she gasped.

“It’s good to see you too,” he starts to carefully check her over. “Are you alright?”

Tilly huffs an incredulous laugh, “You almost died from radiation poisoning, and you’re asking if I’m alright?”

“It’s a doctor and parent’s prerogative to ask.” Tracy interjects, “What? Don’t give me that look; you’ve all but adopted these two.”

He can’t help but smile fondly at her observation. Had it really been that obvious? Paul was going to love this. Speaking of who, “Tilly, have you seen Paul?”

Her expression melted into mild confusion, “I thought he was with you.”

Trepidation trickles down his spine. “No, we were taken straight here.”

Tilly gives a nervous laugh and pulls up her tricomm, “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere; he has to be. Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Stamets.”

“Lieutenant Commander Stamets cannot be located.”

What? Everything in Hugh freezes. He barely registers Adira grabbing his hand and Tracy going still.

Tilly shakes her head, “No, no, that can’t be right. Computer locate again, check every part of Federation HQ.”

“Lieutenant Commander Stamets is not in Federation Headquarters.”

“M-maybe he’s still on the ship?” Adira weakly suggests.

“He’s not on the ship.”

Burnham walks up to them, arms wrapped tightly around her. She looks ashen and shaken. “I was the one who got him off the ship.”

“How—?”

“Then where is he?” Hugh tersely asks, cutting off Tilly’s question.

Burnham shakes her head and won’t look him in the eyes. Fear viciously sinks its icy claws into his heart. Hugh stands slowly from the bed and stalks closer to her. He was never for intimidation, and he wasn’t trying to be. However, exhaustion and emotional strain have wiped away any of his characteristic patience and empathy.

“Burnham, where. Is. Paul?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Aurellio rubbed his temple. A headache was building up tempo in his head, and the arguing among the people around him was not helping. Listening to Orions argue (or rather three Orions, two humans, a Romulan, and a Denobulan) was as pleasant as a Klingon singing opera off-key.

“I say we send a message to the other factions and regroup at the main base on Azoria.”

The Romulan snorted, “I know Osyraa died, but I know she didn’t put you in charge. Fuck the others. Let’s take over the Chain before they realize she’s dead. It’ll be too late for them to do anything by then.”

They delved into more squabbling, and Aurellio wheels himself out, not that any of them would notice or care. This group, and much of Osyraa’s company, preferred violence and strength over science and thought. With Osyraa dead, his own position was precarious. Many viewed him as a weak link in the Chain because of his disability and preference for the sciences.

I hope Namira and the children are safe. He reaches up behind his ear to touch the studs. Their home was on an Emerald Chain controlled colony, but one of the more peaceful ones. Namira was a scientist too and an artist who shared the same deep appreciation for music as he did.

He itched to send her a message, a warning or something, and tell her what’s happened. And how much he loves her. But he didn’t dare for fear of being caught and accused of his own subterfuge and then killed.

“He’s still breathing?”

“Uh… oh, yeah, yeah, he is.”

Aurellio follows the voices and sees a young teenage Orion boy and a tan Bajoran hovering in front of a barred cell. In his musings, the scientist hadn’t noticed he’d traveled to the lowest levels of the ship. It was abnormally warm down here and he already felt himself start to sweat.

“What are you two doing? He asks, drawing closer.

The boy jumps, and the Bajoran looks at Aurellio unconcerned.

“We—We were checking on our prisoner, sir,” the young Orion stammers.

Prisoner? Confused, he looks in the cell and has to do a double-take. Blond hair, pale skin, Starfleet uniform.

Paul Stamets.

Aurellio gaps as he tries to comprehend how they could’ve possibly gotten this man in their grasp. Stamets sits slumped against a stone wall and his eyes staring unseeingly at the floor. He is entirely still except for his chest as he breathes.

“How… how did..?”

“We found him out in space in an emergency field. Verad told us to bring him aboard and put him here.” The Bajoran answers.

So Verad knows, great. Aurellio thinks dryly. Verad was one of Osyraa’s second in commands. She had a dozen of them, overseeing her conquered colonies, flying her ships, and keeping her growing enterprise running. Verad was loyal but power-hungry and greedy. Was he planning to ransom Stamets?

“Strangest thing, though,” the taller man continues. “He fought like a wildcat when we brought him aboard, socked me good too.”

Aurellio now notices a darkening bruise on his jaw.

“But then someone said the ship was gone, the Federation ship Osyraa wanted, the uh…”

“Discovery,” the boy pipes up.

“Yeah, that one. Then he suddenly went limp. All the fight drained out of him in an instant. Strangest thing.”

It wasn’t strange to Aurellio. The word ‘gone’ can mean so many things. Judging by Stamets’ catatonic behavior, he would guess the other man took it to mean permanently gone. Didn’t he say his partner was in the nebula? In a place with such high radiation… oh dear.

Aurellio’s heart ached for a man he barely knew. He looked back at Stamets. The man’s face was expressionless, but a few tears winding down his cheeks.

Chapter Text

“Why don’t you walk us through what happened, Commander Burnham?” Admiral Vance asks with deceptive casualness.

Lieutenant Willa stands off to the side behind him, paying them no mind while her fingers fly across a holoscreen. Hugh, Saru, and Burnham stand before the admiral in his brightly lit office. Saru stands between him and Burnham, and a dark part of him is thankful for that. He would never hurt a friend, but he can’t handle having her nearby since she had a hand in Paul’s disappearance.

She shifts her feet uncomfortably, “I made what I believe is the best decision. I had to get Pa—Commander Stamets off the ship and away from Osyraa so she couldn’t use him and the spore drive. I went to Engineering, where he was being held. He refused to leave, and I… I used a Vulcan nerve pinch to subdue him.”

“You did what?!” Saru hisses aghast. “Did you learn nothing from the Shenzhou? How—How could you…?”

The rest of Saru’s words are choked off in disbelief and anger. He shakes his head and rubs his temple. Her story feels too straightforward to Hugh and that pieces are missing. Paul could be belligerent and stubborn but never to an extent the that’d warrant a Vulcan nerve pinch.

“Why did he refuse to leave?” Hugh asks.

Burnham doesn’t look at him, and he feels fear crawl over his insides like frost.

“He became… overly distressed when I told him I had to get him off the ship. He wanted to jump back to the nebula to rescue you, Saru, and Adira.” Burnham shook her head, “We would’ve played into Osyraa’s hands if we’d done that.”

Hugh feels like he’s been gut-punched. He knew Adira was there with us? Oh, Paul…. He can clearly picture his love’s reaction to Burnham’s seemingly callous disregard for the lives of his loved ones. The knife is twisted further when Hugh knows Burnham saw what his death did to Paul, how it broke him.

“Did you… did you tell him you’d try to come back for us? That Adira brought us medicine and thus more time?” Did you tell him I love him?

“I… no, I didn’t,” she admits.

“Michael,” Saru huffs with disappointment.

“There wasn’t time, and he wouldn’t listen!”

Admiral Vance holds up his hand to forestall any more arguing. “What did you do after that, Commander Burnham?”

Burnham straightens and pointedly doesn’t look at Saru or Hugh. “I strapped him into an emergency containment field and used an overloaded phaser to blast an opening in the ship. Then I activated the homing beacon and knew the Federation would find him and bring him to headquarters.”

Stunned silence reigns over the room.

Admiral Vance blinks in surprise. Lieutenant Willa stops typing, leans past her screen to give her a flat look, and then resumes typing. Hugh and Saru are gaping at her in horrified shock.

“So you… jettisoned one of our crewmates out into space,” Saru says slowly. “And now we can’t find him.”

“On the contrary, he has been found just not by us,” Lieutenant Willa speaks up.

Vance turns to her, “Willa?”

“Headquarters is constantly scanning the area, threat detection mainly and especially so when Osyraa came knocking. I reviewed the recorded scans and found a brief ping of a Starfleet homing beacon outside of Discovery.”

She throws the screen up between them. A tiny red dot glows next to the blue outline of Discovery.

“But another ship responded before we did. The ship came from the Veridian, an escape ship perhaps.”

They watch as a smaller, blue-colored ship snatches the red dot and warps away. Hugh feels sick.

“It appears Commander Burnham that your plan to save Lieutenant Commander Stamets ironically put him right into their hands,” she says coolly.

“We… we are going after him, right?” Hugh asks.

“He is a Starfleet officer and the only one capable of operating the spore drive,” Saru adds.

“Booker can. It’s how we got you both out of the nebula,” Burnham says.

Hugh quietly sighs and fights down the urge to snap at her for her tactless comment. If someone they have now can work the spore drive, there will be less reason for Vance to approve of them going after Paul. Osyraa was gone, but that didn’t mean the Chain itself was too. Hostage situations were tricky and more so now with a leaderless amoral group. Trying to rescue one officer might be dangerous and reckless.

“Did you know Mr. Booker could do that?” Vance asks.

“No, sir, we did not,” Saru answers before Burnham can.

“So it was a lucky fluke for all we know.” Vance mulls it over then looks over at his lieutenant, “Willa?”

She pulls up lists and maps on the screen, still hovering between them. “The Emerald Chain is a vast network. They have over a dozen colonies under their hold that we know of. They have black market connections that span most of the quadrant. Ships with their underlings are still out there as well.”

Hugh’s only paying half attention, his eyes riveted on the screen with growing dread. There are so many places Paul could end up. If he’s still alive. He vehemently squashes that line of thinking.

“Can we track the ship or their warp trail?” Burnham asks.

Willa swipes at her screen a few times, “We can’t track the ship itself, but their warp trail gives us the direction they were heading.”

“Good, I’ll go after th—”

“No,” Vance and Saru say in unison.

“You are going to stay here, and we are going to have a long discussion about your actions,” Saru growls.

“I… appreciate your eagerness to save him,” Vance says, “but how are you going to? Discovery took a beating from the Veridian and is in no shape to go hopping across the quadrant. And what if you run into trouble? Segments of the Chain are still out there, and they won’t take kindly to seeing a Federation ship.

“I can also tell you that no other captain will loan you their ship to save someone they don’t know or care about. They’d see this as a futile and reckless mission. The Emerald Chain has been a scourge for years, and now we’ve almost rid of it. No one would want to risk losing more officers or ships to them now.”

Hugh can’t believe what he’s hearing. “So… we’re going to leave him? Count him as a necessary sacrifice and go on with our lives?”

Hugh’s been in Starfleet for years. He understands the necessity and importance of sacrifice in the name of duty. But this is Paul. The man he’s loved and lost and loved again. It isn’t fair.

Vance looks at him, assessing. Then at Saru and something passes between the two men.

“Commander Burnham, Dr. Culber, you are dismissed.”

They’re about to protest when Saru holds up his hand. He glares at Burnham, but his face softens when he looks at Hugh. The captain inclines his head at the door. They get the message and leave the Admiral’s office.

Hugh heads straight for his temporary quarters. He can’t face Adira or Tilly and tell them they might be leaving Paul to his fate.

“Hugh, wait,” Burnham calls after him.

She lays her hand on his shoulder. He whips around slaps her hand away in a rare show of aggression.

“Don’t, Michael, just don’t. Leave me alone.”

Hurt and shame overtake her visage. “I-I’m sorry. I never thought… I never meant for this to happen.”

“I don’t care what you meant or intended to happen,” he calmly seethes. “The end result is still the same.”

I’m going to lose Paul… if I haven’t already. That realization breaks something in him. He quickly stalks off before Burnham can say more. His assigned quarters look like a utilitarian hotel room. Basic furniture, door to the bathroom on one wall and replicator on another wall. There’s a crisply made full-sized bed, the perfect size for two people.

Hugh gingerly sits on the foot of the bed and buries his face in his hands. His breathing begins to shudder, and tears burn as they fall down his cheeks. Loss and grief crash over his heart like ocean waves on the shore. Stop it! Paul isn’t dead. He’s…he’s…. But there’s no hope for Hugh to find within himself. Paul could be anywhere, could be dead too.

He never heard my last message, he never… A chilling realization overcomes him. Paul didn’t know Adira had brought us medicine. He doesn’t know Discovery rescued us. He… he probably thinks we’re all dead.

Hugh had seen the wounds and cracks his death left on Paul. Tilly had told him how Paul was a ghost of himself, barely living then. If Paul thought they were all truly gone, then…. More tears fall, and his heart wrenches in pain for what his love must be feeling.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aurellio stares at the calculations on the holoscreen with disinterest. He thought work would be a good distraction, but it proved not be with no project or goal in mind. Instead, his mind kept returning to Paul Stamets. Sitting in his cell with that broken, haunted look on his face. Seeing it tore at something in Aurellio.

You had a hand in that. He begged you to let him go so he could save his partner, and you didn’t. You followed the orders of an amoral woman you deluded yourself into thinking was good. All their deaths are on you. And the deaths of the people your work helped Osyraa kill or extort.

He collapsed the screen and rubbed his eyes. Then, glumly, he looked out the narrow viewport at the stars drifting past. As a boy he often looked up at the stars, far better than looking down at his useless legs.

The door swishes open and Verad strides in. An Orion who was rumored to have been with Osyraa since she founded the Emerald Chain. A lean man with quick, vicious reflexes and a mind to match.

“Aurellio,” he greets with cool arrogance.

“Verad.”

He casually leans against a table. “I know you went to visit our guest. What do you know of him?”

Aurellio plays it safe and gives the bare, vague minimum. “I know he’s a member of Starfleet and a scientist.”

“So he’s useless,” Verad says idly and then tacks on, “like you.”

The scientist says nothing, refusing to rise to the bait. Verad enjoyed goading people who had no power to fight back.

“I know he’s why Osyraa had you recalibrate that neural lock because he isn’t an ordinary human. She wanted him alive and under her control, why?”

Osyraa didn’t tell him about Discovery’s unique drive and how Stamets is the only one who can work it? Why? But then he thought, well, she didn’t tell you everything. Why would anyone else be any different to her?

“I don’t know.”

Verad’s calm turns into something sharper. “It would not be in your best interest to lie to me. It wouldn’t be in your family’s best interest either. Why did Osyraa want him alive? What was she planning to do with him?”

She planned to use him and the spore drive to hop around the galaxy and spread her maleficence to untold lengths. Aurellio itched to say those words, but he swallowed them back. He hated lying, and he didn’t know how much Verad knew. So he settled for a half truth.

“I don’t know what she was planning to do with him. She had me redesign the neural lock because his neural pathways are slightly different from that of a normal human.”

Verad studies him, and Aurellio fights to keep his face neutral. Finally, the Orion sighs.

“Fine, maybe someone else knows. Osyraa never did anything without reason. So if she wanted him, it must’ve been for a greater purpose.” He turns to leave but stops at the door, “Perhaps our guest knows why she wanted him?”

The man’s smile is unnerving, and Aurellio can’t stop the color draining from his face. There were some dark things about this organization he knew, rumors he tried not to hear or believe. Nevertheless, he knows what Verad is implying.

The Emerald Chain is not above torture.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh hears a soft and incessant knocking at the door. His brows furrow, and he buries his face in the covers. Then, sometime after his tears stopped he lay on the bed, intent to close his eyes for just a minute. The doctor doesn’t want to wake up, though, doesn’t want to face a reality without Paul in it.

“Dr. Culber, Mr. Booker is requesting your presence.”

The voice doesn’t sound like their ship’s computer, but it’s still soft and polite. He could tell Booker to go away, to leave him alone, but that would be rude. A brief, bitter smile crosses his lips when he remembers Paul saying Hugh was too polite for his own good. He hauls himself up off the bed and scrubs a hand over his eyes and cheeks.

He opens the door, and luckily it’s just Booker standing there. (Hugh’s certain if Burnham were there, he’d have slammed the door.)

“Oh good, you are here. Not busy, are you?”

“Uh…no?”

“Good, come on then,” the courier turns to leave.

The doctor is honestly confused now. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Booker stops and looks back at him. “We’re going to get Paul back. I thought you’d want to come.”

I must be dreaming. But there’s a tiny flutter of hope in his heart. “We’re going after him? And whose ‘we’?”

“Yes, we are. Officially Admiral Vance and Captain Saru know nothing about this. Unofficially, however, you could say this was their idea. As for whose going, we thought to keep it small. You, me, Tilly, and Grudge, of course.”

“Michael’s not coming with?”

Booker shifted uncomfortably, “Ah, no. Saru is having her stay here and said they need to have a long talk. Tilly convinced Adira to stay too.” He gives a rueful smile, “She said it’s her turn to go on a dangerous adventure to save one of you. And don’t worry, I’ll check my ship to make sure they don’t sneak aboard again.”

This is real. We’re going after Paul. He swallows, throat gone dry. “When do we leave?”

“Now, if you’re ready.”

Hugh stows his tricomm in his pocket and sheds his white jacket. He deliberates for a second, then tosses the garment on the bed. This isn’t technically a Starfleet sanctioned mission, and he doesn’t need to be in uniform. That’s what he told himself as he followed Booker. But in truth, he didn’t want Dr. Culber, with Starfleet’s ideas of duty and sacrifice beaten into him, to get in the way.

Chapter Text

“Do we know where they are?” Hugh asks, following Booker aboard his ship.

He tries to contain his impatience to warp straight in and get Paul. They couldn’t afford to make mistakes by being hasty.

“We know what direction they went in, but the trail goes cold after a bit,” the other man replies.

Booker sits at the controls and powers up his ship, guiding it into the expansive black. Tilly’s already here and shoots Hugh a brief smile. Like him, she’s also ditched her uniform for darker casual-looking clothing. Grudge sits in the seat beside Booker, eyeing the two newcomers.

“So, where do we go from there?” Tilly asks.

“Well, luckily, the trail heads towards the Infinity Emporium; it’s an underground exchange.”

Black market, you mean, Hugh thinks and tries not to dwell on the implications.

“I have a friend there who keeps close tabs on anything Emerald Chain related. If anyone can help us deduce where Paul would end up, it’s him.”

“He’s not with the Emerald Chain, is he?” Tilly asks, sounding worried.

Booker chuckles, “Gods no, he says it’s good for business to keep track of enemies or threats. Igget’s a friend, trust me. It’ll take an hour or so to get there, though. Might be best to rest and eat while you have the chance.”

Tilly takes the hint and heads to the small galley. Hugh goes to follow when Booker softly stops him.

He sets the controls to autopilot and turns around. “Hugh, I don’t know how things will go now that Osyraa is gone. Could make things better or worse for us. But I know many in the Chain are not kind or fair. Best-case scenario is we find Paul alive and unharmed. Worst case….”

“Worst case is he’s dead,” Hugh finishes, his heart clenching at the thought.

Booker glances at the ground, loosely clasping his hands. He looks up, and his eyes are sympathetic, “There are fates worse than death, doctor. He could be sold to slavery or a work camp or—”

“Stop,” He snaps, feeling sick.

“I’m not saying any of this to be cruel. I’m saying it so you have a realistic idea of what may happen. I don’t want you to be hurt and disappointed anymore than you already have been.”

Hugh inhales, trying to settle his emotions. He appreciates honesty from others, no matter how unpleasant. Booker is trying to protect and help him. He doesn’t want Hugh to get hurt from being blinded by optimism and naiveté.

“Are you saying there’s no hope?”

Booker is calm and gentle, “No, I’m saying to be prepared for all possible outcomes.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oddly, the Infinity Emporium reminded Hugh of the open-air markets in his hometown. Only darker and less friendly. The last of the sun’s light had disappeared behind the horizon, cloaking everything in shadow despite lamps and lanterns and cooking fires being lit. Every species meandered about, hawking wares, haggling, gambling, and doing a bit of thieving.

“Stay close and try to look unassuming,” Booker advised. “Also, and even if this doesn’t happen, try not to go the west side of the market.”

“Why?” Tilly asked.

She adjusted the charcoal page boy cap she wore with all her hair tucked up underneath. Booker had advised she cover it up since gingers of any species were uncommon and thus noteworthy. Drawing attention was the last thing any of them wanted.

“Got into a bit of a tussle there and accidentally burned down two stalls of some wealthy business folk.”

Tilly and Hugh looked at him disbelieving.

Booker defended, “To be fair, Michael started the fight. I was trying to help end it.”

They stop at an intersection and wait for traffic to pass. People dragged carts laden with materials or food; others were pulled by animals analogous to horses. They continued on their way once the traffic passed.

“Another thing is to not let anyone know you’re from the Federation, let alone Starfleet.”

“I’m guessing people here don’t have a high opinion of us?” Hugh guessed.

“Not exactly,” Booker sighs. He leads them down another street. They’re all so similar Hugh is impressed Booker knows his way around here so well. “The fallout from the Burn left a lot of scars on people. The Federation and Starfleet did nothing to help, seemingly abandoning everyone.”

“The Federation suffered too. All those ships and people lost,” Tilly defended.

“Yes, that’s true,” Booker conceded. “But try telling that to people who lost family, friends, their livelihood. To those suffering from generational trauma or those who suffered at the hands of people like Osyraa.”

He led them to a vacant stand with a sizeable plum-colored tent set up behind. Booker rapped loudly on the wood surface.

“I’m not open yet; come back in an hour.”

Despite the irate tone, the courier smiled. “Igget, it’s Booker.”

There was a stumble and crash from within then the tent flaps snapped open. A short alien bounded up the stall and pulled Booker into a hug. The person was perhaps the strangest alien Hugh had ever seen. Short with orange-tan skin, squat nose, sharp teeth, and massive ear lobes and dressed in violet and gold clothing. Gold and silver hoop earrings on his lobes and a signet ring on his finger.

“Booker, good to see you, my friend. What brings you to my neighborhood, hmm?” He looks behind the taller man, “What? Neither of you see a Ferengi before?”

Tilly and Hugh shook their heads, and Igget rolled his eyes, looking at Booker. “Your friends really need to get out more. So, what can I do for you?”

Booker leaned in closer, “I have information worth more than a chest of latnium.”

Igget chuckled, “Oh, do tell.”

“But first, I need information from you.”

The Ferengi rolled his eyes affably. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“I need you to help us track down one of Osyraa’s ships.”

Igget’s face drained of color, and his expression was comical in its horror. “Absolutely not! I nearly lost one of my lobes to that woman!”

“It headed in this direction,” Booker continued, “but the trail’s lost after a while. If anyone can find it again, it’s you.”

“No, there is nothing that could convince me to risk drawing her attention.”

“There is one thing,” He leaned closer again. “Osyraa is dead.”

Igget stared at him, stunned. “You lie.”

The courier actually looks offended, “Igget, have I ever lied to you about anything? Ever?”

Beady brown eyes search Booker for any hint of deception. Finally, he sighs and crosses his arms, “No, no, you haven’t. But that woman is dangerous, and unless I see her head on a silver platter, as the humans say, I refuse to believe it.”

“I saw her body. I know she’s dead.”

Igget sighed again, “Why tell me all this?”

“Because I know to get information, I have to trade information. And you’re my friend who I think could do a lot of good with this.”

“Fine,” the businessman said. “Follow me, and we can talk in private.”

He led the trio inside his pavilion. Trunks, boxes, and shelves packed with commodities took up almost all the space inside. Igget pulled out some spare chairs for them to sit around a low table. They sat on one side and Igget on the other. The Ferengi procures four glass cups of steaming red-violet liquid and sets one before them.

“Hospitality is good for business now; before we get started, I want you to tell me everything.”

“Igget….”

“Booker, you come in here with two Starfleet officers out of uniform, tell me Osyraa’s dead, and want me to track one of her ships. You didn’t think I’d ask for more details behind what is proving to be an interesting story?”

Tilly looks up from her glass, “How’d you know we were Starfleet?”

Igget takes a swig of what Hugh assumes is tea. “My dear, I’d be a poor businessman if I couldn’t identify what kind of clientele I was dealing with on the spot. Now, story.”

“Osyraa tried to take a Starfleet ship, the crew fought back, killing her and blowing up the Viridian. Then, however, one of her smaller ships took someone important.”

“The captain?”

“No, he’s…” Booker’s eyes flick to Hugh.

“He’s an integral part of our ship’s unique propulsion system,” Hugh explains, “and my partner.”

Igget studies him a moment, then looks at Booker, “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

Booker handed him the data chip with HQ’s scans of the ship taking Paul. Igget inserts it in a holo device, and four screens sprang to life between them. He flicked across each screen, zooming in, and scrolling through data.

Hugh fought not to fidget. He was impatient to find Paul before they lost him for good. The doctor sipped his drink to keep busy. The tea tasted of rosehips with a citrusy undertone. The taste reminded him of the orange, black tea Paul liked to drink when relaxing at home.

Hugh remembers them sitting outside during shore leave one autumn and Paul leaning against him as they sat on the bench swing, warm drinks in hand. Or when they were in their quarters on the couch with Paul cradled between his legs and resting against his chest. Hugh nuzzled his hair and planted soft kisses on his temple.

“Got it!” Igget suddenly crows.

They see the outline of a large ship, similar in size and design to the Viridian.

“They’re headed for the Jade Fang. It was Osyraa’s old flagship before she traded it for the Viridian.”

Booker studies the image, “What makes you certain they’re going there?”

Igget pulls up a map with a plotted course, “For one, it follows the direction they were heading. For another, with the main flagship gone, this is the only large ship the Emerald Chain has left. I’d bet all my latnium that the remnants of the Chain will gather here and plot their next move.”

“So we’re going to infiltrate an enemy ship, filled with pirates and criminals, find Paul, and get out without being found,” Tilly summarizes.

Or killed, Hugh thinks.

The Ferengi taps the screen a few times, collapses the display, and hands the chip back to Booker. “I put in the estimated coordinates and, as a bonus, a floorplan of the ship. It should help provided they haven’t done any serious remodeling.”

“You never give anything as a bonus unless there’s a catch.”

Igget smiles good-naturedly, “Only a minor one. I put a tracking signal on that chip. I’ll give you the activation code, and I’d like you to leave that chip on the ship. I know of at least a dozen groups that would’ve liked to have gotten their hands on Osyraa’s neck. But I’m sure they’ll settle for her minions. I can already imagine the profit I’d make from this.”

His request left a foul taste in Hugh’s mouth. “We’re not going to help you instigate vigilante justice. Starfleet will handle the rest of the Emerald Chain.”
“With all due respect, Starfleet can go fuck itself.” Igget said bluntly, “They had the chance to nip this in the bud, and they did nothing. It wasn’t until she started firing on their precious ships did they take action, if you can call it that.”

Booker sighs, glances briefly at Hugh, then looks at Igget. “How about this? We’ll put the tracker on the ship, but you send the coordinates to Federation HQ and,” he holds up a finger to stall the Ferengi when he opens his mouth, “no asking for anything in return or exchange.”

Igget wrinkled his nose in distaste, “Fine, but first come, first serve.”

“Deal.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The kick to his stomach was swift and unexpected. The wind was knocked out his lungs, and Paul was sure he’d vomit if he had anything in his stomach. But he hadn’t eaten or drank anything in, was it hours? Days? Either way, food and water held no appeal to him. Nothing did.

He slumped onto his side on the hard floor, fighting to breathe through the throbbing pain. The Orion, Verad he said his name was, stepped closer, head canted thoughtfully.

“One kick and you’re already down?” He clicked his tongue, “I know humans are weak, but not this weak.”

Without warning, he slammed the heel of his booted foot on Paul’s left hand. Paul swore he heard something crack and felt fire race up his arm. Oddly, the pain didn’t seem to register. Instead, he felt it on a superficial level, like his brain couldn’t connect the feeling in real-time.

Verad held a polished and well-sharpened dagger loosely in his hand. Paul knew he should feel fear or panic, though he felt nothing. Even when Hugh died the first time, I never felt this numb.

A foot brutally strikes his chest.

I suppose it was because I was so focused on getting us out of the Mirrorverse and then winning the war. I had my work. I had people, friends, to lean on. But now…. Now, what do I have?

Another kick, this one higher up near his shoulder.

Hugh is gone. So are Adira and Tilly. The ship and my life’s work. Starfleet probably thinks I’m dead, and even if not, would they really try and save one person?

Verad crouches down to his level, knife glinting in the low light. “Still not up for talking? Well, let’s see if I can change that.”

Without taking his eyes off Paul, he stabbed the knife into the human’s calf. Paul involuntarily jerked and hissed at the pain.

“Now,” Verad’s voice sounds mild. “Can you tell me why Osyraa thought you so valuable she went to get you personally?”

Paul glares weakly at him, apathy mixed with the smoldering remains of his natural defiance. Verad is unimpressed and slowly pulls the dagger down Paul’s leg.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to share?”

The scientist can feel warm blood soaking his pant leg and trailing down his skin. He’s oddly glad for the severe detachment he’s feeling. Otherwise, he knows the pain would be much worse. With no answer forthcoming, Verad snarls and pulls out the dagger, and stabs him again just above his knee.

“Talk, damnit! I lost my precious Osyraa to you Starfleet bastards, and I want to know for what!”

Did he really call her his precious? Paul thinks dully. Huh, in a twisted way, we have something in common. We both lost the people we loved most.

Verad removes the knife and shoves Paul onto his back. He presses his knee on Paul’s sternum and leans his weight on it. One hand tightly grips his neck, and the other holds the knife, point touching under his jaw.

“I will carve the answers out of you if I must and—”

“Sir.”

Verad sighs in annoyance, “This had better be good.”

“The surviving members of the Chain are arriving. We should proceed with the meeting soon before they start asking questions and figure out what’s going on.”

The Orion stands and tucks his knife away, “Very well.” Before leaving, he glances back at Paul, “We’ll continue our discussion later.”

The cell door locks, and their footsteps retreat. Paul closes his eyes, the throbbing in his chest and leg a distant notion. The physical agony doesn’t compare to his being heart having been torn apart. Verad could do his worst though it wouldn’t matter because the worst had already been done to Paul.

Chapter Text

The Jade Fang’s location was half a day away, even at warp. Hugh tried to temper his edginess and fear with meditation, reading or talking to Tracy. She was a good sounding board and helped quell his anxieties before they consumed him. She also provided updates on the goings on at HQ.

(“Heard Burnham got brutally chewed out by Saru. I don’t know the details, but I’m betting you do. You can tell me later.”

“Reno’s keeping Adira busy with ship repairs. I know your little one would appreciated a message from you, though; they’re worried… we all are.”

“No word on a ransom or talks from the people who took Paul.”

“Bring him home, but be careful, please.”)

He stared at the holoscreen. The last text responded to his update about their plan to infiltrate an enemy ship. Maybe he should send a brief message to Adira just in case things go south. His comm pinged, and Booker spoke.

“Hugh, we’re here.”

The doctor calmed his pounding heart. He grabbed a small medkit, only the length of his hand, and clipped it to his hip. It held the barest essentials, but it should be enough to stabilize whatever condition Paul might be in until they get back to the ship.

Tilly was waiting on the bridge, looking worried and determined. Booker appeared calm as ever. The ship onscreen was similar to the Viridian, albeit bulkier and more worn.

Booker tapped a few controls on the panel, “I’ll activate the ship’s cloaking but will have to wait until someone asks permission to dock inside. Then we’ll sneak ourselves in by following close behind.”

They didn’t have to wait long. A cruiser slid past them and to the Jade Fang’s docking station, with them following close behind unseen. Hugh inhaled sharply when he saw all the ships already inside. Sizes ranged from a small shuttle to ships twice the size of Booker’s own.

“Igget was right. They are all gathering here,” Tilly said, eyeing the numerous vessels.

“He usually is, sometimes, unfortunately,” Booker murmurs.

Like now. Hugh’s eyes jump to each ship in hopes of finding the one that took Paul. Booker carefully parks his ship in an out of the way corner. No alarm had been raised so far.

“We’ll wait for the people on the ship we followed to disembark and leave, then we’ll start our search.”

“Can we beam back aboard once we find Paul?” Tilly asks.

Booker shakes his head, “I have to keep the ship cloaked, which keeps anyone from beaming in or out. I’ll drop the cloak once we’re back in the hanger with Paul.”

The crew of the ship they shadowed filed out of the hanger. The trio waited a few minutes and hearing only silence, they quietly disembarked. Scurrying from ship to ship for cover, they searched. After nearly making it to the fore of the room Hugh began to fear the ship wasn’t here or docked somewhere else.

Tilly rapidly tapped his arm and pointed, “There!”

There it was, unguarded with the door open.

This is too easy, Hugh thought nervously. He shared a look with Booker, and the other man appeared to be thinking the same thing. He pulled out his phaser and held it ready.

“You two stay here for a moment,” he said.

They watched with bated breath as Booker crept towards the ship. Tilly had her phaser in hand, and Hugh lightly rested his hand on his. Drawing a weapon, even when necessary, always made him uncomfortable. Booker carefully peered up the walkway into the ship. After a moment, he beckoned Hugh and Tilly over.

“I don’t hear anyone or see any obvious security alarms,” the courier said quietly once they approached.

“Do you think he’s still on board?” Tilly asked.

“Don’t know. I don’t think the door would be left wide open if he was. Do we chance searching the ship?”

“He might be here, and if not, we could find out where he is. Better than us trying to comb through the whole place,” Hugh advised.

He’d studied the schematics of the Jade Fang. Unfortunately, the ship was twice the size of a Constitution-class vessel, and it wasn’t like any of the rooms and floors were labeled on the plans. So they could only take their best guesses as to what was where.

Booker sighed, “Fair point.”

He snuck up the ramp first, and after a minute Hugh and Tilly followed. The ship was as deserted as the hanger bay, but Hugh strained his ears for any sound that they weren’t alone.

“Where would they keep…?” Hugh was unsure if prisoner was the right term, and he sure didn’t want to call Paul cargo.

“Likely in the lower levels,” Booker surmised. He spied a descending staircase, “This way.”

The air below deck held a stale, humid quality. They found a row of cells along one wall. Hugh walked briskly ahead, heart pounding with trepidation and budding hope that Paul might be here. There were only four and all were empty. The floor of the last cell was stained with a pool of dried red blood. A familiar cold fear seized Hugh’s heart. Please don’t let that be Paul’s blood.

“That’s not a lot of blood… is it?” Tilly asked weakly.

Hugh didn’t want to answer that, didn’t want to think about it. He—

Somebody turned the corner, and Booker and Tilly raised their phasers. A wheelchair-bound gentleman started when he saw them and lifted his hands in surrender.

“Don’t shoot, please.”

“Hang on,” Booker thoughtfully studies the man. “Haven’t I seen you before?”

The man swallows and nods, “I’m Aurellio. I was on Discovery’s bridge when Osyraa… killed your Andorian friend.”

“His name was Ryn,” Booker coldly corrected. “And what is keeping us from shooting you? Can’t exactly have you alerting the entire ship we’re here.”

“I have no love for the Emerald Chain, not anymore. Not after seeing her kill Ryn and threaten to do the same to me.”

Hugh wants to believe him. Aurellio sounds genuine, but he’s a (former?) Emerald Chain member and easily be lying. Nevertheless, the cynicism doesn’t stick, and Hugh decides to take a gamble.

“We’re looking for someone the Chain took.”

“Hugh,” Booker hisses.

The man perks up, “You mean Paul Stamets?”

Hope flutters through Hugh’s heart, and the other two cautiously lower their weapons.

“You know him? Do you know where he is?” Tilly asks.

He looks at Hugh and Tilly, “Yes, I know him. I take it you two are Starfleet then?”

They nod. Aurellio studies them, his eyes showing an internal debate, and he seems to come to a decision.

“I’ll take you to him, provided you, or the Federation rather, grant my family and I protection from the Emerald Chain. I’ll do whatever the Federation wants in exchange along with helping you.”

Hugh firmly presses his lips. He doesn’t have the authority to grant such a request, nor does he want to guarantee anything. He looks at Tilly since she’s the First Officer, but she looks back at him equally unsure. Honesty has always been your safest bet. So he tries for a middle ground.

“We can’t guarantee anything like that for certain. However, we will argue on your behalf for such protection be given to you and your family.”

Disappointment briefly flashes across his face and then replaced with acceptance. “I appreciate your honesty. Very well then, let’s go find your missing officer.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“This is crazy, you know,” Booker muttered to Hugh. “He could be leading us into a trap.”

The two men followed behind Tilly and Aurellio. He guided them through back hallways and sparsely populated routes. Booker checked the small hologram of the ship’s layout and so far, they were going in the direction of what they’d surmised earlier were the holding cells.

“True, but I think he’s genuine about helping us and not the Chain. And we need someone who knows their way around this place,” Hugh reasoned.

Booker gave a conceding sigh, but Hugh could see his hand resting on his phaser.

“The cells are up ahead,” Aruellio whispered to them over his shoulder.

The brig is far bigger with many of the cells dark and open, waiting for the unfortunate souls to be locked within. The lack of prisoners did make it easier to find which cells were occupied. The nearest cell even held who they were looking for.

Paul lay on his side on the cell floor, unmoving and unconscious. From where he stands, Hugh can’t tell if he’s breathing. There are bruises and dried blood from what he can see. Hugh feels a rush of sympathy for his love and anger at who did that to him.

“Paul!” Hugh’s cry doesn’t rouse his lifeless partner. The door is a firm, transparent field. He looks at Aurellio, “Can you unlock it?”

He’s already trying, though his brows are furrowed in frustration. “I’m trying, but computer security coding is not my forte.”

“Or we could cut the Gordian knot and do this,” Tilly suggests.

She shoots the control panel resulting in a shower of sparks, but it works, and the forcefield dissolves. Hugh’s immediately at his partner’s side and taking stock of his injuries. Lacerations on left calf, thigh, and side. Stab wound above left knee. Three broken fingers and knuckles on left hand. Contusions on jaw and split lip. Right ankle possibly broken given the angle of foot. Hugh presses two fingers to Paul’s neck.

“Is he..?” Tilly shudders.

Paul’s pulse beats a rapid but familiar pattern against his fingers.

Hugh sags in relief and looks at Tilly, “He’s alive.”

She lays a hand on her chest, “Oh, thank God.”

Aurellio grimaced, “Looks like Verad has been talking with him again.”

“Isn’t he the one who patrols the Obrexis nebula?” Booker asked.

“I know he worked in that area before being recalled to Osyraa.”

“The man’s a ruthless bastard. If he takes the helm of the Chain, it’ll be Osyraa’s reign all over again. Yeah, we need to go. Can you move him?”

Hugh pulled up the medical scanner feature in his tricomm. It didn’t compare to an actual scanner but would suffice in giving him the basics of any internal injuries. No head or spinal injuries were found though the scan did note four broken ribs and a minor fracture on Paul’s collar bone. Paul was moderately dehydrated, malnourished, and sporting a fever. He put the scanner away and gingerly slipped an arm around Paul’s back and under his knees.

His partner didn’t stir in the slightest at the movement. Hugh idly noticed he felt lighter and the flushed color on Paul’s face. He spared a brief moment, not caring if the others saw, to lightly kiss his temple.

“I’ve got you, love. You’re going to be alright.”

“Oh wait, I just remembered,” Tilly dug in her pocket and pulled out the tracker from Igget.

She tucked it in a small nook and tapped the activation code.

The group made it to the hallway before hearing shouts and the pounding of feet. They ducked into a narrow corridor just as a mixed group of aliens ran past them, unawares.

“Shit! He’s gone. Spread out! He couldn’t have gotten far.”

Hugh and the others waited until the enemies footsteps were gone. He adjusted Paul in his arms and rechecked his pulse. The beat was above a normal resting rate, and his respirations were shallow. Hugh wasn’t sure if the latter was from Paul’s broken ribs or something worse. He gently strokes Paul’s cheek with his thumb. They creep out from their hiding spot and continue on unbothered.

Though that doesn’t last.

A door opens, and an armed group of three immediately spot them. They dodge behind a solid wall of stacked crates. Tilly pulled out her phaser and started shooting while Booker tried to beam them out.

“Booker, beaming out of here any time now would be great,” Hugh urged.

“Working on it, but my ship’s not responding. There’s some kind of internal shield preventing us from beaming.”

Tilly looks at Aurellio, “Is that something we should’ve known about?”

Aurellio ducks when a phaser blast hits too close. “The shielding is part of the security system and inhibits any beaming from one point to another anywhere on the ship. It’s a prototype, though, and I don’t think all the kinks were worked out on this system.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning there are some unprotected spots, and we can beam onto your ship from there.”

“Not sure how since we’re pinned here,” Tilly said.

A ship-wide alert suddenly rang out, “Proximity alert. Unidentified ships approaching. All hands to stations.”

The thugs hesitated but then ran to their posts and away from them. Following orders appeared to take precedence over shooting a bunch of intruders.

“Wow,” Booker said, sounding mildly impressed. “Igget did not waste any time.”

“And neither will we,” Aurellio looked to his left, “this way.”

“Do you think it’s Starfleet?” Tilly asked as they ran.

“Doubt it,” Booker answered. “There aren’t any Federation or Starfleet ships out in this area. I had Michael check for me on the way. They must be some of Igget’s associates.”

Aurellio led them to a dead end. Booker tried reaching his ship again, a flash of light later, and all four of them stood on its bridge.

Booker jumped into the piolet’s seat, “Alright, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. Time to get the hell out of here.”

Hugh couldn’t agree more, but now his attention could be focused solely on Paul. He laid his partner down on the bed and took a closer look at his injuries. He gently tried to rouse him.

“Paul? Can you hear me?”

No response.

Hugh tampered down his worry and slipped a pair of gloves on from the first aid kit. Paul’s breathing was still shallow but steady and unobstructed. He peeled open one eyelid then the other, and his pupils looked normal. Paul’s gums were pink but tacky to the touch.

Moderate dehydration might explain his elevated heart rate. “Tilly?”

She appeared within seconds, “Yeah?”

“Go to the replicator and get me a standard IV kit and a 250 milliliter bag of saline.”

She hurries off to grab what he asked for. He could’ve gotten it all himself, but he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving Paul alone. He gently caresses Paul’s cheek, and his skin feels too warm.

“I don’t think either of us will be letting each other out of our sights for a while, huh?”

Paul’s brow twitches, and he gives a raspy cough.

“Paul?” He squeezes Paul’s right hand. “I’m right here. Can you open your eyes for me?” Please let me see those beautiful blue eyes of yours, sweetheart.

To Hugh’s joy and relief, he does. The feelings are short lived, though, when he sees the blank, empty look. Paul’s eyes are glazed over with exhaustion and fever, but under that, Hugh sees nothing. No recognition, no spark, no life.

Hugh lightly touches Paul’s hair and musters up a smile for him. “I’m here, I promise, love. I’m really here. You rest and let me take care of you, okay?”

The doctor can only hope his words got through. Paul’s eyes fall shut, and Hugh has to take a steadying breath.

“Um… Doctor?”

He looks up to see Tilly holding the kit and saline bag. Grateful, he takes the items and constructs an IV pole beside the bed using the programable matter.

“Is… is he okay? I-I mean, I know he’s not, but I meant….” She trails off, fidgeting and looking helpless.

“He’s not in danger of dying,” Hugh reassures. “He should be fine until we get to Headquarters and can better treat his injuries.” Both physical and mental.

“Can I do anything to help?”

He hangs the fluid bag and gives her a calming smile, “Not right now, but I’ll call again if I need you.”

She nods and, with some reluctance, leaves either to the bridge or to check on their guest. Hugh opens the kit and starts an IV line to rehydrate Paul. Next, he uses a small laser scalpel to cut apart and remove the jacket and undershirt. The left side of Paul’s chest is a violent mess of black and violet bruises with a few more scattered about his skin.

Well, that explains the broken ribs. Hugh’s fingers ghost over the marred skin. Some of the marks look vaguely boot-shaped. Oh, love….

There’s nothing he can do about those injuries now, though. He doesn’t have a regen strong enough to heal this level of bruising or the broken ribs. Mercifully, Paul is breathing without difficulty, so those can wait a little longer.

Hugh leaves Paul’s boot on for now since it’ll help compress the swelling and stabilize whatever’s broken. He does prop Paul’s foot on a pair of pillows. He moves to the other side of the bed and cuts away at the left pant leg. The long laceration on Paul’s calf has stopped bleeding, but the surrounding skin is an angry, inflamed red. The wounds on his knee and thigh are a little better, only with no signs of infection. Hugh sets about cleaning the wounds by hand since he doesn’t have the standard tools available in a medical bay.

Every so often, his eyes flicker up to Paul’s face. It’s lax with sleep and no hint of pain or distress. He wraps Paul’s leg and knee with dressing and secures gauze over the sluggishly bleeding wound on his thigh. There isn’t much Hugh can do for Paul’s hand except splint the broken fingers.

Hugh peels off his gloves, tossing them and the used gauze into the reclaimater. He drapes a blanket over Paul’s body and lightly kisses his forehead.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’ll have Tilly sit with you for a while, okay?”

He’s not expecting a response but still feels disappointed. He smooths out the blanket and moves out to the bridge. Booker is at the helm, and Tilly beside him typing out something on her tricomm screen. Likely a mission report knowing her, he tiredly thinks with amusement.

“Tilly?”

Her head snaps up, “Yeah?”

“Can you sit with Paul for a minute? He’s still sleeping, but I’d rather not have him be alone.”

She scrambles off her chair, “Oh, yeah, totally. I sent a message to Saru letting him know we got Paul and are coming back. I asked him too about helping Aurellio.”

I should message Tracy that we’re on our way and what shape Paul’s in. “Thank you for doing that.”

Once she’s gone, Booker asks, “How is he?”

“Stable,” Hugh sighs. “Broken bones, contusions, lacerations, but nothing life-threatening.”

The courier nods in understanding, “Good, we should be at Federation HQ in about fourteen hours or so.”

After a beat, Hugh asks, “Where’s Aurellio?”

“In the lounge room, I think.”

He heads in that direction, “I need to have a word with him.”

“Hugh,” the doctor turns around. Booker looks at him thoughtfully, “It’s not his fault what happened to Paul.”

Hugh understands what he’s getting at, and revenge is low on his list of priorities. “I know.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aurellio sits near a viewport and watches the stars blur by as they warp. Hugh isn’t sure what to make of the man. He did work for the Emerald Chain, but he did help them rescue Paul, and he sounded sincere in wanting protection for his family. Finally, Hugh clears his throat to get the other man’s attention, and it works.

The doctor flashes a smile, “I wanted to thank you for helping us save Paul.”

Aurellio relaxes slightly. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help him. He looked so broken and lost so much, and I played a part in it however involuntary. Tell me, is Discovery truly gone? Crew and all?”

Hugh feels the wind knocked out of him but refrains from letting it show on his face. “No, we survived Osyraa’s attack. Everyone’s alive.”

The scientist’s shoulders slump in relief, “Thank the gods. What of his partner? Stamets mentioned he was on an away mission in the Verubin Nebula. That area is highly radioactive, and no one can survive there for long.”

“His partner is alive, and I know that because you’re speaking to him.”

Aurellio’s eyes widen, “Oh….”

“Yes, and as his partner, I have some questions for you. Like what the hell happened to him after he was taken aboard your ship?”

Aurellio swallows nervously, “I don’t know. I found him by chance in a cell and heard how he became unresponsive after hearing Discovery was gone. He refused any water or food; he wouldn’t speak or move. Verad tried to get answers from him about why Osyraa wanted him, but nothing.”

Oh, Paul… Hugh felt like crying, but he swallows back his tears. “I see.”

“I know I have no right to ask this, but how is he?”

“Alive,” Hugh says bluntly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He leaves Aurellio and heads straight for Paul with the intent to not leave his side any time soon. Tilly stands from the chair by Paul’s bed when she sees Hugh approach.

“I’ve been talking to him, so he knows he’s not alone anymore, but I don’t know if it’s helping.”

Her care for Paul soothes some of Hugh’s nerves. “I’m sure it did, even if we can’t see.”

She nods and bites her lip. Hugh recognizes that as her wanting to say something but unsure how or if she should. “Is it um possible for someone to die without like being sick or hurt? Like… can someone give up on living?”

Hugh understands what she’s asking, and he’s seen it only once or twice. People giving up on life because of a poor prognosis or the death of a loved one, or a severely traumatic experience. And Paul, to him, has gone through two of the three. He remembers what Aurellio said about Paul refusing to eat or drink. The doctor fights down the fear and remains calm for Tilly’s sake.

“It’s not common, but there have been cases; why?”

Tilly shrugs and looks at Paul, her eyes shiny. “I don’t know. It… it feels like he’s fading, I guess? Even though he’s still alive and breathing.”

He warmly squeezes her arm, “I’ll do what I can to make sure we don’t lose him.”

He takes her vacated seat, and she leaves to give him privacy. Paul looks marginally better save for his fever flushed cheeks. Paul’s hand feels cool and limp in his grasp, a far cry from its normal warmth and strength. Hugh kisses his knuckles.

“I love you so much, Paul. Come back to us, please. Please don’t leave us.” Please don’t leave me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first time Paul awakens, he’s unsure if it could be called ‘awake’. He is conscious but only just. His senses are muddled, and his eyes are closed. His head pounds, and his chest aches horribly. He hears someone’s voice though he can’t make out the words. Warm fingers gently touch his cheek, and his nose catches a familiar scent.

Hugh

That can’t be right though. Hugh is… Paul’s mind shies away from the word. He wants to fall back into the black abyss of unconsciousness and never resurface. He can’t stand the idea of burying Hugh again and adding Adira this time.

“Paul?”

It can’t be. Paul pries his heavy eyes open, but his vision is dim and blurry. He sees a figure hovering over him, though he can’t distinguish who. It can’t be Hugh. It’s impossible. If Paul had the strength, he’d cry at the disappointment and unfairness of it all. But, instead, he lets go of consciousness and drifts away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul awakens a second time to the faint sound of two people arguing.

“…see him? I want to apolo…”

“…on’t care. You will leave him alone and…”

He can tell he’s lying on a biobed and tries to open his eyes to see where he is, but his strength is too little. His head weakly lolls to the side, and he draws in a sluggish breath. The aches and pains from earlier are muffled under layers of medication. Where am I? What’s going on? He coughs and tries to speak though his tongue and lips won’t cooperate. The voices stop, and Paul feels a warm, familiar hand stroking his face and hair.

“Shh, easy love, you’re alright. Just go back to sleep; you need to rest.”

Hugh? Can it really be? It seems impossible but then again… I’ve seen and done the impossible. The resolve to live solidifies in his chest. If by some miracle Hugh is alive then Paul will do his damnedest to live too.

He feels something cool and damp laid across his forehead. The gentle touch and soothing voice lull him back to sleep. Paul savors the comfort while he can and settles back under with a hint of hope in his heart.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul notices is how warm and comfortable he is along with a deep sense of peace. He opens his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. It matches the one in their quarters, but this doesn’t feel like that place. He sees an IV hanging near his head and follows the tubing to his left hand.

However, his attention is drawn away from that when he notices Adira and Tilly. They’re curled up at opposite ends of the couch, asleep with blankets tucked around them. They’re alive, he thinks dazedly. They’re actually alive.

Paul hears a soft sigh to his right and detects the body snuggled up against him. Hugh is cuddling Paul’s arm, and his head is resting against his shoulder. The doctor is lies atop the covers with a single blanket draped over him. Paul stares in disbelief at his beloved partner.

Hugh is alive.

The thought almost makes Paul bark with incredulous, relieved laughter. Instead, he nuzzles Hugh’s hair and breathes in his scent. Paul doesn’t notice when his breathing starts to hitch or warm tears start to fall. Hugh stirs and blinks his eyes open. When he sees Paul’s tearful but smiling face, Hugh engulfs him in a tight hug.

“Paul, oh thank God you’re awake,” he murmurs. “Shh, love, it’s okay. I’ve got you; you’re alright.”

The blond wraps an arm around him and buries his face in his neck.

“Hugh,” he whimpers.

He kisses his hair and strokes his back, “I’m here, Paul, right here.”

“I thought… you and… you were…” Paul can’t get much out past the lump in his throat.

Hugh eases Paul’s face from his neck and cups his jaw, thumb gently swiping away a tear. The hand slips around the back of his head and draws him in unrelenting for a kiss. Paul nearly cries again at the love and care he feels coming from Hugh in this simple connection.

They part, and Hugh rests his forehead against Paul’s. “We can talk later, but for now I… I want to lie here with you. I don’t want to think about anything outside this room.”

Paul readily agrees to that. Hugh slips under the covers and carefully gathers Paul into his arms. Paul feels sore, and his healing wounds grumble at the jostling. That quickly quiets down once he’s ensconced in Hugh’s soothing embrace. Fingers thread themselves in Paul’s hair and gently flex.

“I love you. So, so much, sweetheart.”

Paul kisses Hugh’s sternum, right over his heart. “I love you too, dear doctor.”

Chapter Text

A brief inquiry to Zora tells Paul where Hugh is. While Paul is eager to analyze the hydrocarbons, he wants to see Hugh first. After returning from the mission, he saw his partner briefly, but Paul needed more. Paul fought not to have an anxiety attack the whole time he was away. It took a monumental effort for him to focus on his work and not the memories of the last time Hugh went on a mission with Burnham.

Paul steps into their quarters and sees Hugh lying on the bed, seemingly asleep. His jacket is gone, and he’s clutching a pillow from Paul’s side of the bed. Paul almost turns back and leaves him to rest when he notices the uneven breathing and faint glimmer of tear tracks on his cheeks.

He gently touches his shoulder. “Hugh?”

The doctor starts at the touch. He blinks and rubs his eyes with one hand. “Paul?”

Paul discards his boots and climbs onto the bed. He sets the pillow aside, and Hugh crawls into his arms, resting his head on Paul’s chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. Paul holds him close and feels his jangled nerves slowly settle down. He gently strokes Hugh’s back, feeling a concerning tenseness in his toned muscles. His breathing is off too, like he’s trying not to cry.

Paul waits for a few breaths and asks, “I know this might be a stupid question, but are you alright?”

Hugh doesn’t look up at him and presses his lips in a thin line. He gives a shuddering inhale and shakes his head, “No, I don’t think I am.”

Alarm pierces Paul’s heart. “Are you hurt? Do you feel sick? Should I call Tracy?”

“No, not… not like that, I mean I,” he swallows thickly. “I know everyone is struggling with something and… I am too.”

Paul pulls him closer, arms winding around to comfort Hugh as he starts to cry. Paul does his best to soothe him, rubbing his back and making soft sounds of comfort.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. You’re going to be alright. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t… I,” Hugh’s words are cut off with another bout of tears.

Paul kisses his hair, “Don’t apologize. Let yourself go; I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

He isn’t sure if this was because of the mission itself or if that was the tipping point to something that’d been building up. Paul knew something had been going on with Hugh. How his partner was now the one overworking himself, even if it was to help others. Hugh had seemed distracted and lost in thought more often too. Paul shucks those thoughts aside for now and focuses on comforting Hugh.

Hugh’s tears taper off, and his breathing is less harsh when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds small and shame-filled.

“For what?”

Hugh doesn’t immediately answer. His hand slowly grips and releases Paul’s tunic like a cat kneading. Paul doesn’t push and knows the value of waiting for someone to find their own words. He debates grabbing a glass of water for Hugh but brushes the thought aside since that would mean moving.

“For having a breakdown. Now isn’t really the best time.”

The joke is weak, but Paul appreciates the attempt. The scientist brushes the backs of his fingers against Hugh’s cheek.

“I don’t think there ever is a good time. Did something happen during the mission?”

“Not really? I… when we were in the nursery, I felt peace. A deep sense of peace that I haven’t felt since God, I think since before the war.”

Unease pulls at Paul. “How do you feel now?” How have you been feeling?

“Lost. Broken. Burned out,” Hugh admits quietly. “I felt better after finding myself, and we got back together. But… I don’t think all the cracks have healed, and now it’s all… catching up to me. How uncertain the future is, the DMA, the 10-C, made it all worse.

“And I… I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself together. People need me to be strong and calm, but I don’t know if I can anymore.”

Paul feels his heart twist at the deep exhaustion in Hugh’s voice. How did he not notice this? Paul leans down and kisses Hugh’s forehead. He knew Hugh never had any trauma or scars to deal with before the war. Never had to contend with the vulnerabilities and insecurities they brought on top of whatever else life threw.

“You don’t have to be strong for me. Not all the time. You can let go, and I’ll be here for you.”

Hugh sniffles, “I’m sorry for putting this all on you. You have enough going on with the 10-C and the hydrocarbons and—”

Paul gently cuts him off, “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me. I would rather know than be left wondering what was wrong.”

He nudges Hugh to sit up a bit, cups his cheek, and rests their heads together. “I made the mistake of not putting you first, and I am never doing that again. I’m here for you whenever you need me, just as I know you’re there for me. We don’t have to shoulder our problems alone. We can lean on each other.”

Hugh nods and rests his head on Paul’s shoulder. “I talked with Burnham about this earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you first. We talked, and it all kinda came out.”

Oh. Paul does feel a sting to his pride hearing that. He puts it aside, though, since this is about what Hugh needs, not him.

“She’s not my favorite person, but if talking to her helped you, I’m fine with it.”

His comm badge chirps. Speak of the damn devil.

He taps it, “What?”

“Shouldn’t you be in the lab studying the hydrocarbons? Zora says you’re in your quarters. With Hugh.”

Paul hears the implication in Burnham’s tone and fights back the rush of irritation. As if we’d be having sex at a time like this. Hugh lightly kisses his jaw to calm him down.

“We’re on a bit of a time crunch here, Paul. You need to—”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he says curtly and taps his badge to close the comm.

Hugh sits up. He gives a tried chuckle mixed with a sigh, “Back to work we go.”

Paul follows, “Yeah, I guess so. Hugh?”

“Hmm?”

“I think when we make it back, we should really take that vacation we’re long overdue for.”

They had meant to take one after Osyraa’s attack, but one thing after another came up, and they never got the chance.

A soft smile appears, and Hugh nods. “You’re right. We could go on something like a honeymoon or maybe a family trip with the kids.”

Paul feels his heart lighten at the prospect. “Yeah. And Hugh?”

The doctor looks at him, and Paul knows he must carefully weigh his next words.

“Maybe you or we could look into seeing a counselor of your own? I will always listen if you want to talk. But if there’s something you don’t feel comfortable talking to me or anyone about. I’d rather you have a professional to go to than keep it in and pretend you’re fine.”

Hugh doesn’t protest though his eyes fall to the bedspread. He leans into Paul’s touch when he cups his cheek, thumb brushing across his tan skin.

“I am so proud of you. For how far you’ve come through everything you’ve faced. You are strong and resilient and have been for so long. However, even the best need help. You’re human, you’re struggling, and you need help too. It doesn’t make you weak or less of a great doctor.”

Hugh rests his hand on Paul’s. His smile dims and turns humorless, “A counselor for the counselor then?”

Paul shrugs slightly with a lopsided half-smile, “Doctors need doctors too, don’t they?”

Hugh nods, “True. Alright, I’ll look into finding someone when we get back. I just have to hold on until then.”

Paul pulls him into a hug, “We have each other and the rest of the crew. We can get through anything.”

Chapter Text

To: Tilly, Sylvia (Starfleet Academy, LT/Instructor)

From: Stamets, Paul (USS Discovery, CMDR/Sciences)

Hey, Tilly, I just wanted to shoot you a quick message before we go. I’m not trying to be morbid or pessimistic by sending this, but in case things go south and we, well….

Anyway, It’s weird not having you here when we’re about to undertake such a huge and honestly daunting mission. You’ve been with us, with me, for all the insanity we’ve been through. Every day I am grateful I picked you for my team. You’ve been indispensable with your knowledge, ingenuity, bravery, and friendship.

I’m happy you’re doing so well at the Academy. Those students need a teacher like you. Someone who sees beyond the surface and isn’t afraid to reach out. I love seeing you light up when you talk about them and teaching, even the stuff that makes you frustrated. I can see you found your passion and I’m proud of you.

I truly hope this won’t be the last time we talk. I have faith in the crew (and Burnham to an extent) that we’ll survive and come back successful. But if being in Starfleet, in space, and in war has taught either of us anything, it’s that nothing is certain. Numbers don’t lie, and anything can be calculated. Still, sometimes there are variables you can’t factor in or even imagine coming into play.

No matter what happens, please take care of yourself and stay incandescent.

Paul

Tilly started when she heard knocking behind her. She whipped around to see Harral in her office doorway.

“Um, Lieutenant Tilly? Are you okay? You look upset.”

Tilly sniffed and swiped an arm over her eyes. She collapsed the holographic message screen. “It’s nothing. What is it? Is something wrong?”

He shifted on his feet, “Class started ten minutes ago, and you hadn’t shown up yet, so….”

She looks at the wall clock and sees he’s right. Shit. “I’ll—I’ll be right there.”

Her Orion student didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and walked back to the lecture hall. Tilly inhaled deeply and slowly a few times, willing her tears not to fall. No one at the Academy knew about the DMA, and Kovich asked her to keep it that way for now. Paul kept her updated on everything since she left the ship, including their mission to leave the galaxy.

Focus. You need to keep it together for your students. There’s nothing you can do for Discovery from here. You—

Her tricomm chirps with a new message marked as high priority from Admiral Vance. Dread and resolve solidify in her heart as she reads his message. Tilly goes back to her students to tell them class is canceled for the day, and they’ll be having a substitute for the rest of the semester. By evening she’s on a shuttle bound for Federation Headquarters where Admiral Vance and Lieutenant Commander Bryce are waiting for her.

Chapter Text

Learning about Tarka’s past was saddening but also unsettling for Paul. There were too many similarities between him and Tarka to begin with and now…. Paul hated to admit it, but he could relate to the Risan.

He stares up at the ceiling while Hugh sleeps, snuggled close to his side. Paul’s hand idly traces patterns on his back while his mind tosses and turns with discomfort. Tarka rubbed Paul in all sorts of wrong ways, and while appalled by his actions, Paul can understand his motivations.

I almost did something similar for Hugh. I was willing to stay in the Network and let the universe crumble if it meant staying with Hugh. And Justin… if I had a means to stop the Glenn from being destroyed, I’d probably take it.

Paul closed his eyes and inwardly groaned. I’m no better than Tarka. He looks down at Hugh and gently strokes his cheek with the back of his fingers. I know what it’s like to lose the one thing you love most in the universe and be so desperate to get it back.

He tries to calm his mind enough to sleep. However, his thoughts won’t stop turning over what he’s learned.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Paul starts when he hears Hugh’s sleepy mumble. He glances down to see Hugh looking wryly at him with one eye open.

Paul winces, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Hugh adjusts himself to get comfortable again and places a few kisses on Paul’s neck, lips gracing his thumping pulse.

“It’s alright, something you want to talk about?”

“Not really. I don’t want to ruin our vacation with something stupid.”

Hugh snuggles closer, “Anything that can keep your genius mind preoccupied is not stupid. I’m all ears if you want to talk.”

Paul knows the offer is genuine and that he won’t get back to sleep until his thoughts are in order. Cliche as it sounded, talking things out actually did help. Paul continues to idly stroke Hugh’s back. He can hear the soft rumble of the ocean waves from the beach near their hotel.

Vacationing here had been a good move, especially for Hugh. While his family was gone, being in a place still so familiar proved to be a healing balm for the doctor. Paul saw more of his charming smiles, a glimmer of fond remembrance in his eyes, and a relaxed air about him.

Paul didn’t want to ruin any of that with his musings about Tarka.

“Paul?” Hugh asks quietly.

“I was… thinking about Tarka and how I could feel for him. He was an arrogant jackass, but I know what it’s like to lose the one person you love above all.”

His arm tightens slightly around Hugh. The memory of his death and near death in the nebula still ache. Hugh senses this and gently kisses Paul, his hand resting on his cheek and thumb stroking softly. Paul takes a moment to ground himself in the moment before continuing.

“I keep thinking how I would’ve done the same if I were him. Hell, I nearly did when we were in the Network. I almost let everything go because I couldn’t let you go. It scares me how I could’ve ended up like him.”

Hugh pushes himself up, looking Paul in the eye, his hand still cupping Paul’s face. “Love, you are nothing like Tarka. Yes, you can understand his pain, but that doesn’t make you like him. You would never go to the lengths he did or hurt and endanger the people he did.

“You saved the Network and the universe even when it broke your heart. You have far more resilience and compassion than you think. I know for certain that you would never have become anything like him.”

Even in the dim light, Paul can see the love and confidence Hugh has in him. Paul rests his hand on Hugh’s cheek. The doctor turns his head slightly to kiss the inside of his wrist, eyes never leaving his.

“You know, Saru said something similar when I told him how Tarka was like who I could’ve been. If I hadn’t met you or Justin or Tilly. He told me even if I didn’t have any of you, I still wouldn’t have become like him.”

Hugh smiles, “Well, now you’ve got two trusted sources telling you the same thing.”

He settles back down, resting his head on Paul’s shoulder while Paul pulls the blankets closer around them. He feels calmer now. Listening to the distant waves combined with Hugh’s steady breathing, Paul finally falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Even half-asleep Paul noticed a familiar, painful burning in his throat. He swallowed and grimaced. Damn it, no not again. He wanted to groan and burrow under the blankets. Though if he did that Hugh might worry and if he found out Paul had another sore throat after finishing his antibiotics, Paul didn’t want to think about that.

Hugh stepped out of the bathroom already dressed. He smiled fondly at Paul and gently shook his shoulder, “Come on honey, up and at’em.”

How anyone can be a morning person baffles me. Paul gave a low, annoyed groan that only made Hugh chuckle. This bit of normalcy Paul could feign.

“I need to head in a little early today, so I’ll be meeting you guys up for lunch instead, okay?”

Paul nodded and with a quick peck on the lips, Hugh was gone. At least he had a few hours now to figure out how to hide this from Hugh. Either until Hugh found out or his body beat this before that.

Paul dresses and meets Adira and Tilly in the mess hall. The youngsters are still half-asleep though steadily perking up as they downed their coffee. He picks a light breakfast with soft foods and neither of them seems to notice. He fights not to grimace every time he swallows. Thankfully the two are too busy talking to each other to notice Paul not contributing to the conversation.

Tilly heads for the bridge while Adira follows him to Engineering. If I can work somewhere private today and not talk to anyone, I should be fine. I should replicate some tea or at least water. He internally groans, knowing how much his throat will hurt.

For a few hours, his plan succeeds until he goes to the main part of Engineering and Reno finds him.

“There you are bobcat, been wondering where you slunk off to.”

Paul shoots her an aggravated glare. Reno looks back unfazed.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Paul tries to snap out a retort, but it comes out as a hoarse rasp. He slaps a hand over his mouth, looking aghast. Reno’s eyebrows rise up.

“Or maybe it’s more of a frog in your throat.” Her eyes then narrow, and she sets her hands on her hips, “Stamets, you’re not sick again are you?”

Paul shakes his head.

“Come on, you can tell me.”

He sees her teasing him and doesn’t grab the bait.

“Do you want me to call Culber? I’m sure he’d be able to tell if you’re sick or not.”

Paul shakes his head vehemently.

“Do it, okay.” Reno smugly smiles and taps her comm badge, “Reno to Culber.”

“Culber here, everything okay Jet?”

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Been pretty quiet which is nice though Stamets won’t respond to any of my witty banter. In fact,” Reno’s smile becomes more amused. “He hasn’t talked almost all day. I’m not complaining though he does look a little flushed.”

That’s because I want to throttle you! Paul really hopes his face conveys that.

“And I noticed him rubbing his neck and cringing. Wonder if that sore throat came back?”

“I’ll be right there. Culber out.”

Paul threw his hands up and looked at Reno with an expression that screamed, why!?

She points at him, “You’ll thank me for this. You need to take care of yourself and while you’re a pain in the ass you’re one we can’t afford to lose. Besides, you don’t want the kid to get sick, do you?”

Adira’s trying not to look at either of them. Paul sighs. No, I don’t.

Reno claps his back, “Don’t worry, the doc’ll fix you up and you’ll be back to your charming, snarky self.”

Hugh walks in and Paul can see from one look that Hugh can already tell. He gently grabs Paul’s arm, “Come on, we’re going to sickbay.”

He taps his badge and a split second later they’re in sickbay. Hugh has him sit down on a biobed and pulls out a penlight from his pocket, clicking it on. It was a petty move, but Paul turned his head away.

Hugh was nothing if not patient. His voice was gentle, not irritated. “Paul, please?”

Paul knew he was only delaying the inevitable and turned his head towards Hugh. The doctor slid one hand around his neck, the cool touch feels blissful against Paul’s overly warm skin. He opens his mouth for him to look.

He hears Hugh quietly mutter, “Again?”

The doctor straightens and tucks away his penlight. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think surgery might be your best option at this point.”

Paul pulls up a small holographic screen between them to communicate since talking was too painful.

“No.”

Hugh frowns and bites back a sigh at the single typed word answer and Paul’s stubborn expression.

“And why not?”

Paul presses his lips together and types. “Can’t you give me something else?”

This time Hugh does sigh, “Technically yes, but being on antibiotics long-term isn’t healthy. Every time I take you off the medication the infection comes right back. You’ve had three infections in less than two months, love.”

Paul had first woken up with a case of strep throat a few weeks ago and Hugh prescribed him antibiotics. But the infection returned once Paul finished the course of medicine, so Hugh tried a different one. And a different one after that. He suggested removing Paul’s tonsils to prevent the recurring infections which Paul immediately nixed.

Hugh sat down beside him. Paul was never stubborn for the sake of it. There was always a deeper root cause to his obstinance. He laid his hand on Paul’s knee. Paul looked regretful, his eyes downcast and only fleetingly glancing at him. Hugh knew Paul wasn’t being difficult on purpose, but some fear or misgiving was holding him back.

“I know surgery isn’t people’s first choice, but I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t think it was the best option for you.”

Paul sighed, shoulders falling. “I know.”

Hugh keeps up the gentle and coaxing tone, “So what is it?”

“I’m,” Paul hesitates, fingers hovering over the screen. “I’m afraid something will go wrong, and I won’t wake up after.”

Despite advances in anesthesia medicine and monitoring, complications were still a possibility. Hugh lightly touched his cheek and cupped his jaw.

“That’s understandable. But you know I would never let anything happen to you.”

Paul nods and types, “I know. I do trust you, but the fear is still there.”

“You’ve been put under before and you came out alright.” Hugh’s referring to when Paul had shrapnel lodged in his chest from the battle with Control.

They both still had lingering nightmares from that.

“To be fair, you put me in a coma, and I wasn’t exactly coherent at the time.” Paul types some more, “It’s not just not waking up, but I don’t like not being in control. I don’t have a say in what’s being done to me.”

Paul wasn’t a control freak like some people surely thought, but he was hyper-independent. Years of having to take care of himself made it a tad difficult for Paul to surrender to someone’s help. Except for Hugh.

“True, and I know how much you hate all that.” Hugh takes one of Paul’s hands in both of his, “I promise it won’t be for long, less than an hour. I’ll be with you for the whole thing.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You do. I can’t and won’t force you to have the surgery. If you really want to try another antibiotic or some other treatment, we will.”

Paul weighed his options and Hugh patiently waited.

“You promise it will only be an hour?”

“I promise. We can do it tomorrow morning and by afternoon you can go home and rest.”

Paul swallowed and winced at the pain. He rubbed his neck as if that would dispel the fiery agony inside.

He nods and types, “Fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

Hugh cards his hand lightly through Paul’s hair. “You’re going to be fine, love. I promise you’ll feel better after this.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning came too quickly for Paul’s liking. He had lain awake last night debating the idea of hiding out somewhere on the ship. There were a few secret nooks he’d used before when he wanted to be alone and not found. But that wouldn’t work since Zora would know where he was, and Hugh could have her transport Paul directly to sickbay.

The second problem was that Hugh had his limbs tightly wrapped around Paul. Either the doctor was feeling voraciously cuddly tonight, or he was (unconsciously) keeping Paul from running away.

In the morning, Hugh had Paul dress in comfortable clothing, likely to ease his nerves and relax him. They walked to sickbay, Paul tightly holding Hugh’s hand. Hugh said nothing but pulled Paul closer and rubbed his thumb across his knuckles.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Tracy greeted when they walked in. “OR 1 is already prepped.”

She was drinking coffee and Paul ached for just a sip. Hugh had, in Paul’s opinion, cruelly denied him any food or drink starting last night. The doctor stood firm about Paul needing to fast beforehand. He longingly looked at coffee then at Hugh who looked back with a raised eyebrow and a small, amused smile.

“You can have a small decaf iced coffee after this if it makes you feel any better,” Hugh conceded.

It wasn’t what Paul hoped but he nodded. Hugh directed him to one of the beds and had Paul shed his sweater. The cool air of sickbay brought goosebumps to his bare arms. He shivered as Hugh grabbed what he needed. It’s just the cold. I’m shivering because I’m cold, no other reason. I’m not scared. I’m not. He still shivered and his breathing began to quicken.

“Hey,” Hugh’s gentle voice breaks through Paul’s rising panic.

The doctor sets down his items and pulls Paul into a hug, wrapping his arms snuggly around him. Paul clutches him and buries his face in his shoulder. The embrace is warm and solid, and Paul feels his shivering subside.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hugh murmurs. “You’ll only be asleep for a little while. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Paul nods and rasps, “Still don’t like this.”

Hugh touches Paul’s face, thumb stroking his cheek. He gives him a sympathetic smile, “I know.”

He grabs a hypo and gently tips Paul’s head to the side. “I’m giving you a pre-anesthetic sedative. You’re going to feel tired and a little dizzy.”

The needle prick barely hurts, but Paul flinches out of habit. A wave of exhaustion washes over him and everything slowly veers to the side. Hugh carefully lowers him down on the bed and tucks a blanket around him. Paul felt oddly detached from everything happening around him, not even noticing when the IV was inserted.

Voices sounded distant and his vision darkened around the edges. His eyelids grew heavier with each blink, and he fought a losing battle to stay awake. The last thing he was truly aware of was Hugh gently squeezing his hand before everything went black.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Consciousness crept back to Paul at a snail’s pace. It felt like he’d been asleep for a few seconds. Is it over? His ears picked up the soft sounds of monitors and people working. A faint burning pain stung his throat and his neck ached. He swallowed which worsened the pain slightly and caused him to cough.

A warm hand strokes his hair. “Paul?”

It takes a few tries to pry his eyes open but when he does he sees Hugh smiling at him. “Hey, love, how are you feeling?”

Paul knew Hugh would give him more painkillers if he were honest. He wasn’t a fan of anything that muddled his brain to the point he couldn’t think straight.

“’m fine,” he says hoarsely.

Hugh looked at him with concern and skepticism. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you’re not.”

“Hurts a little, but I’m fine,” Paul amends.

“I can give you a low-dose pain killer. It’ll take the edge off without knocking you out,” he offers.

God bless you, dear doctor. Paul nods and Hugh kisses his cheek before rising to grab the medicine. He injects it into Paul’s IV line and the lingering pain fades away. Paul can’t help but sigh and sink further into the bed. Hugh reclaims his seat and resumes his soothing petting.

“The surgery went well, and we’ll discharge you in a few hours. You’re going to be on bed rest for a few days and light duty for a week after that.”

Paul hears the emphasis and nods.

“Good,” Hugh smiles and kisses his brow. “Sleep for now, the more you rest the sooner you’ll heal.”

Paul had a feeling sleeping is all he was going to do in the coming days. He didn’t have the heart to protest now though. Wrapped in warmth, pain-free, and Hugh’s calming touch lull him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Enterprise stopped shuddering a while ago, but Hugh doesn’t notice until the chaos has died down to a lull. The medical staff from both Discovery and Enterprise patch up the last of the injured and total up the casualties. Hugh sets down the dermal regen he’d been using on a patient that was now stable.

He collapsed in a chair and buried his face in his hands, smothering a quiet groan. With his adrenaline dropping, he could feel all the aches and pains plaguing his body from the intense ordeal. He looks up when he feels a slim hand on his shoulder. Tracy looks as beat as he feels.

“I think we’re getting too old for this,” he huffs ruefully.

She snorts, “If Boyce can still run about after this then we got no excuse.”

The Enterprise’s CMO had about ten years on them, and he still walked around, checking on each patient and med staff like nothing happened.

“You should go rest for a bit before you fall over,” she advised him.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not invincible, new body or not. You need to rest, at least for an hour for my peace of mind.”

Hugh knew she was right and nodded. A nap, however brief, sounded divine. He hoisted his aching body and shuffled to the on-call room where he managed to find an empty cot. He collapsed on it with the intent to only take a half-hour nap. I’ll go find out what happened to the ship and Control after. He yawned. I need to find Paul too and we should talk and…

Hugh fell asleep before finishing that thought.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul hoisted his duffle bag, carrying his few personal belongings, over his shoulder. He was boarding the first shuttle back to Earth and getting the hell away from this ship and Starfleet. I wonder if the Vulcan Science Academy would still take me even though I turned down their offer.

“Stamets!”

Paul cringes but doesn’t stop walking at Reno’s shout. She jogs up to him and grabs his arm, halting his steps.

“What do you want Reno?”

She blinks at his sharp tone but shakes it off. “Where the hell you going?”

“Away from here,” he replies curtly. He moves to walk away, but Reno grabs his arm again.

“Please tell me the doc is going with you.”

Paul feels a tearing pain rip through his heart. He breathes slowly to keep the tears at bay.

“Hugh is staying here. He,” Paul swallows and straightens up. “He’ll do well here. He’ll be… happier.”

Reno looks at him, face blank with disbelief. Paul continues as if convincing her will convince himself.

“He doesn’t need me dragging him down. He can live his new life free of anything from his old life. He told me… he isn’t the same person he was before and he’s right. Expecting him to be the same after all that, wasn’t fair. He deserves to be happy and be… with someone who… deserves him.”

The engineer sighs and looks up as if beseeching some deity, “Stamets, I swear.”

“Look if you—” He’s cut off when she shoves her hand in his face, a silver ring glinting off one finger.

“Do you know how many people would sell their limbs, hell their very souls, for the chance you and Culber have?” Reno’s voice is hard with emotion. “I’d give anything to have my wife back even if she wasn’t the exact same, I’d still take the chance. And yet you two are pissing it away in some sacrificial bullshit belief that you’re doing the other a favor.”

Paul batted her hand away. “I’m sorry about your wife, but I’m not going to stay with Hugh if it means hurting him. He needs to move on and so do I. He isn’t the same person anymore. He doesn’t….”

Love me. He doesn’t love me anymore. Paul doesn’t have the strength to voice that out loud. He pushes past Reno and walks toward the shuttles. Reno watched him board and the shuttle leaves the bay for Earth. She turns and, because fate is a bitch, sees Tilly and Culber in the crowd talking.

“I thought I told you to talk to Stamets, but I guess I was being too subtle,” she remarks, stalking up to the doctor.

“I-I did talk to him, what are you..?”

“Really? Because he just boarded a shuttle believing you’re better off without him.” She looks at Tilly, “Perk of being a lesbian kid is you don’t have to deal with men who are idiots when it comes to romance.”

Hugh feels the wind has been knocked out of him. “He… he left?”

“Yes, keep up will you, doc? You better talk to him ASAP if you still want him.”

Hugh swallowed. Did he still want Paul? Ever since he returned everything felt off-kilter. At first, nothing felt right, not even Paul. However, once his inner turbulence settled Hugh found the one thing that stayed the same was his love for Paul. Changed or not that remained the same.

“What if… he doesn’t want me? We fought and I hurt him and…”

Tilly shares a worried look with Reno who looks tired of all this.

The engineer says, “Hugh, anyone with even half a brain and one eye can see how much that man still loves you. You fought and said stuff you didn’t mean like all couples do. He still wants you though.”

Tilly nods in solemn agreement. The shuttle ride back to Earth gives Hugh plenty of time to think. Just before landing he bites the bullet and sends a brief message to Paul, asking if he was alright and if they could talk.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stepping off the shuttle and back on Earth feels anticlimactic to Paul. His PADD pings with a new message and seeing it’s from Hugh, he chooses to ignore it. Instead, he types out a quick text to his sister Chelsea.

Back on Earth. Mission over. I’m fine. I’ve a few things to take care of and then I’m going to Grandmama and Grandpa’s place. Need to be alone for a while. I’ll comm you later. –Paul

He knows she will give him a few days before pestering him for information. But at least she wouldn’t be tactless and incessant like their mother. He types a message to his grandparents saying he needs to stay with them for a time. He and Chelsea were always welcome, but a notice was still polite.

He heads to Starfleet General where all the crew has been ordered to report for medical evaluation. Paul is placed in his own room likely because of his now unique biology. Before leaving Enterprise, Admiral Cornwell had assured Paul that he wouldn’t be locked away in a lab. The doctor would take extra samples of his DNA but that would be it.

Paul had committed eugenics even if it was only on himself. He had broken the law and should either be behind bars or in a lab as someone’s test subject. Cornwell said an allowance was made for him due to his action during wartime. However, his research would be seized and classified, and Paul highly doubted another spore drive would ever be created again.

“Is there anything else you would like to discuss before you leave?” The doctor asked when all the tests were finished.

Paul looked at the augments on his arm. Hugh made these with Paul’s best interest in mind. He wasn’t happy about the tardigrade DNA or Paul’s new role as spore drive navigator. But Hugh had pushed all that aside to find a way to make this change easier on Paul. With no spore drive (no Hugh), what was the point in keeping them?

He tapped the augment, “How long would it take you to remove these?”

An hour later, Paul walked out of the hospital, not in uniform but in civilian clothing. The newly healed skin itched, and he resisted scratching. Paul was sure if he started, he wouldn’t stop until his arm was a bloody mess. He caught a shuttle for Oregon. It was a short ride, and he was soon walking the familiar streets to a familiar and welcome home.

Paul’s grandfather, Aurelius, opens the door and taking one look at Paul, pulls him into a hug.

“It’s alright Beansprout. Whatever’s going on, it’s alright. You’re safe here.”

Something broke in Paul at hearing the gentle reassurance and his childhood nickname. Paul held the older man and let a few tears slide free.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh’s family is overjoyed at his return. It’s emotional and overwhelming, but Hugh bears with it for the sake of his family. Being home feels good, but not as good as when Paul was here with him. Hugh checks his PADD for any response from Paul. Not obsessively just when he has a second… every hour. So far, there’s nothing.

Maybe Tilly and Reno were wrong.

Maybe Paul doesn’t want him anymore. The fight was awful. The things Hugh said and the hurt, broken look on Paul’s face….

Hugh is outside on the back porch, staring at the PADD balanced on the railing. He needed space away from the well-meaning, but smothering love of his family.

“Brooding isn’t a good look for you.”

He glances up to see his older brother Andreas standing across from him. As the oldest, Andreas was attuned to his younger siblings’ needs. That attenuation is what made him a good counselor.

“I’m not brooding, just thinking.”

“About Paul?”

Hugh says nothing which he knows is confirmation enough for the other.

“I did think it was odd you showed up here without him. You barely mention him too and always deflect or give vague answers whenever anyone asks about him. Did you two fight or something?”

Or something. Hugh sighs and opts for honesty. That had always been his policy, especially in times of doubt.

“Paul and I broke up.”

Andreas stares at him in shock. “You… what?”

Hugh looks out to the yard, the houses farther beyond, and a glimpse of the Cabo Rojo cliffs. His mind tries to shy away from his harsh fight with Paul.

“When I came back nothing was the same. I wasn’t the same and neither was he. Paul tried to act like everything was fine, but it wasn’t. Everything felt wrong and nothing felt right.”

Hugh feels the words pouring out and it feels cathartic to talk to another person about how he felt. “I was so angry and frustrated and scared. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I can remember everything, but I felt nothing. There was no emotional connection to our past. I couldn’t love him the way he needs, deserves, to be loved and I had no idea if I ever could.

“I tried to explain that to him, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept seeing me as I was not who I am now. We fought and….”

Hugh hangs his head, “I hurt him so badly, Andre.”

Andreas says nothing. Hugh sees him looking at him with a counselor’s schooled expression of patience and nonjudgement.

Hugh gives a quiet, humorless laugh. “Even after that, before we left Discovery, he said he hoped I would be happy. That I’d be happy with someone else. I hurt him and pushed him away and he still wanted me to have a happy life.”

Andreas is silent for a long moment and Hugh can see him thinking. “You said ‘was’. Past tense.”

What? Of all the things Hugh expected his brother to say, his grammar was not one of them. “Uh… yeah?”

“So, do you still feel that way? You said you felt angry, and you didn’t know who you were, but in the past tense.”

“I… guess not?” Hugh spoke slowly, trying to string together a coherent explanation for his indescribable experience. “There are pieces of myself I’m still trying to find but I feel better now than I did then. I think I’m more settled now? I still love him. I don’t think I ever stopped, it just got lost in the disconnect and confusion I felt.

“But it doesn’t matter now.” He looks down sadly at the PADD, “I don’t think he loves me anymore, not after what I said, not after how I treated him.”

Andreas slowly shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s true.”

When Hugh looks at him quizzically, he continues, “Paul wouldn’t have said he wanted you to be happy, even if it’s without him, if he didn’t have some love for you.”

Love is a choice you make every day. Cornwell’s words from their brief session echo in his head.

His PADD pings with a new message and Hugh’s heart jumps. He taps it open and…

“Is it from Paul?”

Disappointment sinks Hugh’s heart as he reads. “No, it’s from Captain Pike, Enterprise.”

“Wait, Enterprise? That’s like the ship of Starfleet. What’s it say?”

“Before we left he asked if I wanted to join his crew. Now he’s officially asking me. They’re shipping out in three weeks.”

Andreas braces his arms against the porch railing. “Are you going to go?”

Hugh had been flattered and honored when Pike made the offer. He could go, hell with his skills and credentials Hugh could go anywhere. He could stay on Earth and work at Starfleet General or teach at the Academy. Any colony or station or ship would gladly take him.

“How mad do you think Mamá and Papá will be if I go?”

Andreas’s eyebrows rise. “Well, I can’t imagine they’d be happy. Mamá less so than Papá, but I’m sure they’d understand.”

Their father was much more open to letting his children follow their dreams and passions no matter how far it took them from home. Their mother was supportive, but still wanted her children close to home or at least on the same planet.

Something itches at Hugh to take the offer. Working on the Enterprise would be incredible, though there’s more to his urge. Distance and having the chance to reform the still missing and broken pieces of himself through medicine. Working as a doctor again had helped immensely in pulling himself back together.

He loves his family and being home again. However, things are still unfamiliar in that unsettling way. He wants to be somewhere he can reform himself naturally without any unconscious influence. No one or nothing to make him feel like he needs to be a certain way, to be his old self. The Enterprise would be a clean slate.

Hugh looks at Pike’s message. Three weeks. He has three weeks to pack up his things and ship out… and if he’s lucky maybe talk to Paul before leaving.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul listlessly pokes at his dessert. A slice of lemon meringue pie that would normally be eaten in a second, now looks unappetizing. All food was unappetizing to him if Paul was being honest. He sat at the table outside in his grandparent’s backyard. The sun shone in a cloudless sky, a sharp contrast to his despondent mood.

A few PADDs were strewn on the table near his untouched pie including his personal PADD with the message from Hugh. It’d been a week so far and Paul couldn’t bring himself to open it let alone answer. He’d received messages from Tilly and Michael, asking how he was doing and giving updates on their lives.

There were messages too from Starfleet Command, those were much less pleasant. Starfleet apparently still saw him useful for they denied his request to be discharged. He’d be allowed to keep his rank (as if Paul ever cared about that), but his work was confiscated and classified. Never to be touched by him or anyone else again.

“If you’re not going to eat that, I’d love it.” His grandfather sits down next to him, “I think your grandmother is trying to put me on a diet or something.”

Paul wordlessly pushes the plate and fork over to him. The older man looks slightly surprised at the dessert forfeit and starts eating. Paul looks out at the beautifully crafted yard and gardens, done by the very man sitting beside him. It could be argued that Aurelius was the one who introduced Paul to mycology.

He had started teaching him about plants and botany. However, when they reached mushrooms and fungi that’s when Paul got hooked. As a boy, he’d read everything his grandfather had on the subject and the man only encouraged him. Never once mocking him but asking questions and showing genuine interest.

“So what’s the plan now?”

Paul is startled out his musings, “What?”

Aurelius eats the last bite of pie and sets the fork down. “You know your grandmother and I love having you here and you’re free to stay as long as you want. But we’ve never seen you look so… lost before.”

Paul knows they mean well. He had retreated here because he knew his grandparents wouldn’t ask any questions. (His grandmother Mable had asked about Hugh. With a surprisingly even voice, Paul told her they broke up, then excused himself for the rest of the night. She never asked again.) He needed a place to lick his wounds and figure out his next steps without any pressure.

“I lost Justin, I lost Hugh,” his voice cracks on his name. “I lost all my work. I have nothing.”

His grandfather’s smile is gentle and encouraging, “The great thing about science, of any kind, is that there is always something new to discover. You can find new people too.”

Hugh did want you to move on, didn’t he? The very idea feels like a betrayal though Paul doesn’t know to what or who.

At night, Paul sits up in bed with his PADD propped against his knees. He’s still unsure about what he wants to do but decides to at least look for options. He sees Hugh’s message, still unread. The wounds from their fight and subsequent interactions still ache. Still, it’d be rude not to respond. He taps it open.

Are you alright? Can we talk? –Hugh

Paul’s heart painfully constricts. The first question made him want to laugh bitterly. The question was so simple yet absurd. He was the farthest thing from alright.

The second question made him pause. He couldn’t imagine what or why Hugh would want to talk to him. As far as Paul could tell, everything had been settled between them before leaving Discovery. Forward motion was the best choice for them both despite Paul’s heart screaming for Hugh.

The Hugh that Paul knew and loved died at the hands of Ash (Voq) Tyler. The Hugh that came back didn’t feel anything for Paul. He had said (yelled) as much. Paul knew better than to chase after someone who didn’t want him. Even if he was different from the man he loved, Paul still wanted him to be happy. He types out a brief message, shuts off his PADD, and crawls under the blankets.

At least in sleep, he could find respite and a smidgen of the happiness he had with Hugh.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh lays in bed staring out the window and at the night sky he could see between the curtains. His mind kept shifting focus between Paul and the Enterprise. Nothing else could draw his focus away from those two topics. Before he could drift off to an exhausted sleep his PADD pinged.

He untangled himself from the blankets in a scramble and grabbed his device. His heart jumped in hope seeing who the message was from.

I’m fine. Don’t worry about me and go live your life. –Paul

All his hope deflated. Tilly and Reno actually were wrong then. Paul… didn’t want Hugh anymore. But could Hugh blame him? He died and came back someone far different than the man he loved and lost. A man who viciously hurt him for only trying to help.

You burned that bridge without realizing you were holding the torch.

Hugh sets his PADD aside and curls up under the sheets. Though he wonders how he’ll be able to sleep given how cold and empty he feels.

Chapter Text

Life on Enterprise was not entirely different than life on Discovery. Except there was no war, no secretly fascist Terran captain leading them, and… no Paul. Hugh tried not to think about that last one though it was hard not to.

During the first few weeks, Hugh would think, I can’t wait to tell Paul, or I’d bet Paul would say, only to remember that Paul isn’t there anymore. He wouldn’t be in their quarters or his lab or even a comm to talk.

Hugh still talked to Tracy which helped. She decided to stay on Earth a little longer before taking another ship assignment. They talked and swapped stories like they were in the Academy again talking about their rotations. Tracy never brought Paul up unless Hugh did first, which he appreciated. Talking about Paul hurt, and Hugh knew he needed to move on from his… (Hugh couldn’t bear to think of him as an ex) former partner.

The medical staff had warmly welcomed him into their fold. He found himself making friends quickly, though that was never really a problem for him.

There were some amorous advances from some of the crew that Hugh gently turned down. Friendship was one thing, but romance (or a one-night stand) was out of the question. Hugh’s heart ached at the thought of being involved with anyone else the way he was with Paul.

It felt wrong.

He told you to live your life yet here you are still clinging to him. Hugh chastised himself as he lays in bed, alone. He’d turned down another offer for some nighttime company. Paul doesn’t want you, remember?

But I still want him. Hugh thinks it’s unfairly ironic that now he wants Paul. That all his confusion from his return is gone, he found that his love for Paul was still there. It was only a matter of too little, too late.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul walked slowly back to his home. An empty place he wasn’t eager to return to, but Esaria had kicked him out of the lab. A perky Andorian who had become worried over Paul’s constant late nights and early mornings in the lab. She insisted he leave early and enjoy the weekend.

Fortuna was a thriving moderate-sized colony. At first a farming colony, they quickly grew thanks to the abundance of crops that grew from the planet’s rich soil. Businesses set up shop, and so did a university and a research hospital. Beautiful forests surrounded the city along with other plants, and most importantly, mushrooms.

Paul had snagged himself a job at the university as a teacher for mycology. He was still Starfleet, but for now, Starfleet had no use for him and was allowed to live a semi-normal life. He got his own lab to use when not teaching in the lecture hall.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad life and at times Paul even enjoyed it. Though the empty townhouse and the lack of social life did drag him down. Hence why he didn’t like spending time at home and was always in the lab or on campus.

“Stupid cat!”

Paul started out of his depressed musings at the sharp reprimand and metallic bang. He found himself outside the pet store that also functioned as an animal shelter. Through the front window, he saw a group of kids in front of a wall of cages that held cats up for adoption.

The one being yelled at was a long-haired brown seal point cat with bright blue eyes. Curled up in the farthest corner of the cage, ears flat, tail flicking rapidly, and hissing.

“She’s such a mean cat, no wonder no one wants her.”

“Yeah, there are better cats than that one.”

The kids moved on and Paul frowned. Couldn’t they see she wasn’t mean, but terrified? She was covering up her fear with anger and… Paul ruefully laughed to himself. And doesn’t that sound familiar? He acted the same way during the war, covering up his terror with snappishness. The only one who saw through that was Hugh.

Paul looked at the cat, all alone and so very scared. Well, I’ve always wanted a cat. Decision made, Paul walks into the store and walks out half an hour later with the cat in a carrier.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh never thought he’d get tired of life on a starship. Yet here he was packing up his things and getting ready to transfer to a colony hospital. After nearly nine months on the ship and Hugh was yearning for a change.

His dream had been to be the CMO of a flagship and Boyce had been hinting that dream might come true soon. But now Hugh isn’t so sure that’s what he wants. He’s been so focused on serving on starships that he never thought of serving anywhere else. A colony would be a nice change of pace and he might learn something he can’t on a ship.

Pike and Boyce were sad to see him go, but they assured him they understood. The rest of the crew was equally saddened and understanding of Hugh’s decision. He grabbed his bag and headed for the transporter that would beam him onto the colony.

The terminal wasn’t far from his apartment, and he could almost see the hospital from here. Inhaling, Hugh almost forgot how invigorating fresh air was. There were cons about living on a ship like no sunlight and spring breeze. Hugh slows his steps as he nears a café, and no authentic coffee. Feeling he’s earned a treat, Hugh orders a coffee and sits outside to enjoy the abundant sunlight.

He sits down with coffee in hand and pulls out his PADD to read. The distraction doesn’t last long as his mind wanders to another café from so many years ago. You just can’t stop thinking about him, can you? It turns out that no he can’t.

The people at the tables in front of him have left and when Hugh looks up he nearly drops his cup.

Paul is sitting alone, chin propped in hand and reading a PADD with coffee near his other hand. Hugh cannot believe his (good? Bad?) luck. He’s staring and he knows it, but his eyes had always been inexorably drawn to Paul. He’d been captivated since they first met.

That day at that café on Alpha Centuri when Hugh had been absentmindedly humming while reading and drinking coffee. His quiet vocalizing drew the ire and the brusque command to stop from a rude (handsome) man. Hugh decided to be cheeky and sat next to him, a challenge for a challenge. That honest, gorgeous man ended up being the best thing that happened to Hugh.

And you lost it. But maybe… you could get it back? It was a painfully hopeful thought. They hadn’t spoken in almost a year. Would Paul be happy to see him? Angry at his reappearance? Surprised, certainly. With great effort, Hugh pulled his eyes away lest Paul get the feeling he was being watched. Hugh needed to manage this carefully and accidental eye contact with him might make Paul run.

He snuck a few covert glances and his heart ached for Paul. The feeling had stuck with him since leaving Discovery but now it seemed to have hit home. In his peripheral vision, Hugh saw Paul look up and see him. Paul started and the color drained from his already pale complexion. He quickly gathered his things and vacated the café.

Well, that answers that question. Hugh thinks dejectedly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul all but ran home. He shut the door and sank to the floor, mind whirling at who he had just seen. The one time I get coffee off-campus and Hugh is there. What is he doing here? The colony had some affiliation with Starfleet, but nothing that would warrant his presence. Is he on leave? No, he was in uniform, so I don’t think so.

(God, did that uniform look divine on him.)

“Mrrow?”

Mocha questioningly trilled and trotted up to him. It took Paul two months to win her trust, but he had with patience and respecting her space. Things I should’ve done for Hugh when he came back. Mocha slithers into his lap and starts purring while rubbing against his chest. Paul strokes her downy fur contemplatively.

Seeing Hugh again, even from a distance, had cracked the Pandora’s box of feelings Paul had locked away. Desire, longing, fear, and apprehension all vied for his attention. But there was anger too. Anger at himself that he had thrown away his one chance to reconcile with Hugh in person.

I want him.

Paul doesn’t notice the tears forming in his eyes. But he isn’t mine. He hasn’t been since he came back.

Mocha gently paws his cheek, and he resumes petting her, heedless of his tears and the tearing ache still in his heart.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh loved medicine. He really did. To an outside observer, he would appear to be happy. Content in his natural element of tending to patients and delving into research. But inside, the joy his job normally gave him felt muted.

Had been ever since he saw Paul.

He visited the café a few times in hopes of running into him again, but so far no luck. Hugh threw himself into his work in hopes that his feelings would resolve themselves on their own. He could comm Paul and ask to meet and talk (provided that Paul hadn’t changed his contact and that he’d accept).

“Look alive people!” The department head’s voice rings out. “Some lab experiment at the university went awry and now we’ve got over two dozen causalities heading our way.”

Hugh and the other doctors and nurses prep as best they can without knowing how severe the injured will be. Always best to prepare for worst-case scenarios, war had taught Hugh that. Minutes later the injured arrive. The minor cases are shuffled to the side to be overseen by the nurses and orderlies. While the doctors take the more severely injured.

Hugh helps stabilize one patient after another, decades of practice controlling his movements. His mind doesn’t register every little thing he does, but everything comes to a screeching halt when he sees the next patient.

Paul is pale and still. There’s a wet sheen on the front of his dark shirt and Hugh belatedly realizes that’s blood. Where’s it coming from? The scanner shows a small foreign object puncturing Paul’s chest in the tiny space between his heart and lung. Paul’s hand weakly twitches and his eyelids flutter.

Without thinking, Hugh curves his hand around Paul’s jaw. His fingers brushed Paul’s quivering pulse. It’s reassuring to feel that he’s alive, but also terrifying how weak it feels.

“Paul? Can you hear me?”

Paul’s eyes slowly open and Hugh can see how unfocused they are from pain, blood loss, and rapidly approaching shock. However, his gaze finds Hugh and he can see flickers of recognition.

“Hugh?” It comes out as a broken rasp, yet Hugh feels his heart warm.

He touches Paul’s cheek, and the scientist leans into the touch. Hugh smiles, hoping it looks reassuring.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m right here.” He moves his thumb across Paul’s cheek, “Not really how I pictured us meeting again.”

Paul’s smile is tremulous but so very familiar, “Me… neither.”

Hugh wants to say more (so much more), but he and Paul don’t have time. With effort, he pushes aside his personal feelings to be the professional he needs to be now.

“You’re going to be alright. Your injuries a severe and you’re going to need emergency surgery.”

He grabs a hypo from the cart and loads it with a sedative and tri-ox and gently administers it. Paul’s eyes start to lose what little focus they have.

“Hugh…” Paul’s pained, fearful whimper nearly undoes him.

The doctor lightly directs his sight back to him. “Hey, look at me, you’re going to be fine. I’ll be right here with you, I promise. You go to sleep, okay? Let me take care of you.”

Hugh isn’t sure if his words got through, but Paul does look calmer as his eyes close.

You’re putting other lives in jeopardy by prioritizing him. Other people who need your help.

He’s worth it.

It’s a selfish, but honest thought. He lost Paul once, he was not going to lose him permanently. Hugh knows he’ll need an assistant and looks around for an available nurse.

“Sarah!”

A young-looking brunette runs to him and he gives a quick order, “You’re with me, we’re taking him to the surgery suite.”

Her eyes dart to Paul, pale and fading, then to him. He sees her silently asking, are you sure? Hugh gives a decisive nod, “Please.”

She nods back and the two take Paul down the hall. The suite is empty when they enter, and they transfer Paul onto the table. Alarms ring and warnings flash on the screen above the table before Hugh turns the volume down. He grabs an intubation kit while Sarah sets up an IV.

“His leg is pretty messed up and he’ll need more than a few rounds under an osetoregen. Want me to call someone from ortho to come help?” She asked.

Hugh looks at the biobed scans and sees she isn’t kidding. Multiple broken bones, torn ligaments, and soft tissue damage paint an ugly picture. Paul’s chest wound takes priority, but it’d be nice to have someone manage the slightly less severe injuries.

He nods, “Good idea.”

She goes to comm for help and Hugh finishes intubating Paul. He lets his hand linger on Paul’s cheek.

“You’re going to be all right, love. Just stay with me a little longer.”

He grabs a laser scalpel and starts cutting away at Paul’s clothes. He peels off the soaked fabric and grimaces at the blood-smeared chest. It looks so wrong against Paul’s normally pale, flawless skin.

(Hugh remembers so many nights of them lying together and his fingers tracing idle patterns on Paul’s chest.)

“Dr. Murphy will be down in a few minutes,” Sarah’s quiet update jars Hugh back to the present.

Focus, Paul needs you now.

The shrapnel is nearly flush with Paul’s skin and almost unnoticeable from all the blood. No one would’ve seen it unless he was scanned. Hugh pushes down the spike of terror that Paul could’ve bled to death, and no one would’ve noticed. Sarah finishes prepping while he grabs his tools and a fresh pair of gloves and mask.

“I’ll start with removing shrapnel, can you take care of his ribs? There’s a broken rib piercing his liver.”

Honestly, with so many broken ribs and fractured sternum Hugh’s surprised Paul could breathe at all. He’s always been stubborn, he thinks fondly.

Sarah nods and gets started on her end. Hugh feels slightly better when the blood is cleaned away. He starts by cutting into Paul’s chest, the laser cauterizing as he slices through tissue and muscle. Paul’s heart continues to beat like normal, but Hugh notices dark splotches on the cardiac muscle. Myocardial contusions, his mind supplies. Paul’s heart is literally bruised and battered, and Hugh thinks it ironically fitting.

Grabbing a pair of needle-nosed forceps, Hugh tries to remove the metal. The angle is difficult so with one hand Hugh very carefully cradles Paul’s heart and moves the organ enough to grab the offending object. Hugh knew what Paul’s heartbeat felt like but feeling the beat in his palm instead of between layers of skin and bone is something else entirely.

With tender reverence, he gently places Paul’s heart back and removes his hand. He takes a settling breath and grabs a microregen to heal what damage was left. Dr. Murphy and his assistant arrive, and Hugh gave them a polite nod while Sarah got them up to speed.

Hugh glances at Paul and murmurs, “You’re doing great, love.”

Returning his attention he catches Sarah’s eye, and he feels a pang of guilt like he’d done something wrong. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Hugh exhales and continues to fix Paul’s battered body.

Chapter Text

The surgery lasts under three hours but to Hugh, it feels like three days. Instead of taking a break, Hugh helps get Paul settled in his room. He’s still sleeping, and Hugh suspects he will be for a while. Color has started to return to his face and his breathing isn’t labored. He gently brushes a few strands of hair from his face.

Upon closer inspection, Hugh can see faint circles under his eyes. Scans showed his weight being almost six kilograms under the minimum normal range. Familiar desires to protect and comfort stir in Hugh’s heart. Paul was always bad at taking care of himself, putting his science first, and too used to receiving bare minimal care.

“I’m here, Paul,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I haven’t been this past year.”

The door behind him opens and closes and Hugh slips on his professional mask. Sarah comes to stand next to him with two cups and hands one to Hugh. He sees it is water, not coffee, and gives her a questioning look.

“You need to hydrate, not caffeinate,” she answers firmly.

Her reply sounds like something Tracy would say. He can’t argue with that and takes a drink.

She speaks again a few moments later, “I…heard what you said during the surgery. I didn’t know you had a partner.”

How to answer that? “He was my partner, but something happened to us, and… things got so complicated.”

“Relationships usually do,” the nurse shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with taking time away from each other to figure things out. You still care about him though. Do you want to try again?”

Of course, I do. Even though he’s terrified of Paul rejecting him, Hugh still wants to try. “It’s not about what only I want. I don’t think he….”

She nods, “True, it’s about what both of you want and not what you think the other wants.”

She leaves him with that tidbit of advice. Hugh mulls it over during the rest of his shift and through the night instead of sleeping.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul awakens to dull pain throbbing in his chest and leg. A cursory glance tells him he’s in a hospital room which would explain the pain being minor instead of all-consuming like it was when he was last conscious. He tries to sift through his jumbled memories and remember how he ended up here.

There was a thunderous boom from the floor above his lab. The building shook, and debris fell. He was on the ground with a crushing weight pinning him down. Everything went black for a while and then he woke up in agony and almost unable to breathe. People shouting and noise and… Hugh.

Hugh was there. Telling Paul that he’d be alright and that he would take care of him.

Paul sighed and screwed his eyes shut. He had to have imagined it. There was no way Hugh could actually be here. It was just a dream, a comforting vision concocted by his mind. Hugh was… gone. He was out there living his best life, a happier life, without Paul.

He turns his mind away from that depressing thought. I hope Mocha is okay. The cat had an automatic feeder so at least she wouldn’t starve. Maybe I should have one of the assistants check on her though. He hears the door open and sighs in mild annoyance. He didn’t tolerate medical doctors well, most of them in his experience were arrogant pricks, the only exceptions being Hugh and Tracy.

“Paul?”

Speak of the handsome devil. Paul blinks in shock, but no Hugh really is standing there. “Hugh?”

He gives Paul a cautious smile, “Yeah, I… um, how are you feeling?”

Paul is still stunned that Hugh is actually here. “Fine, I’m fine.”

His body still ached and there was a growing (figurative) pain in his heart at having Hugh so close. The doctor was standing within arm’s reach, checking Paul’s IV and medical chart. Paul could reach out and… And what? You think he wants to be touched by you? Remember how he stiffened and shied away from your touch? That had been the most hurtful about Hugh coming back. Throughout most of his life, people didn’t seem to like touching or being touched by Paul. That started to change with Justin and much more so with Hugh.

No, I can’t risk it. He didn’t want to scare Hugh off by being desperately touch starved. Besides, he might… have someone and Paul won’t ruin that.

“Paul?” Hugh quietly asks and touches his shoulder.

Realizing he got lost in his thoughts, Paul directs his attention to reality. Hugh is looking at him with a familiar worried frown and dark eyes filled with concern.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

The touch is light, and it makes Paul’s heart cry out for more. He feels his eyes growing warm and he gently shrugs off Hugh’s hand.

“I’m sure.”

Something akin to hurt quickly passes across Hugh’s eyes. He nods and smiles politely, “If you’re sure then. You’ve been recovering so far with no complications. A few more regen sessions and you should be discharged by the end of the week.”

Hugh leaves and Paul wonders if he’ll ever stop getting in his own way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh limits his interactions with Paul and tries to keep them as professional as possible. He was so relieved when he saw Paul awake and had to restrain himself from hugging him. He settled for touching his shoulder, gently jarring Paul out of his internal musings. It hurt when Paul shrugged off his touch and Hugh tried not to let that show.

Paul never shied away from Hugh’s touch before. Often leaning in and savoring what contact he could give. But they hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year. People change. And maybe Paul has changed to the point he doesn’t want you. He weakly brushes the thought aside and steps into Paul’s room.

To his surprise, Paul is sitting on the bed finishing dressing in regular clothes. Both legs dangle over the edge of the bed, the slim walking boot on his right leg peeking out from the hem of his pants. Dr. Murphy had done his best and even with regens, there were still parts that needed to heal naturally.

“What are you doing?”

Paul slips on a sweater, not looking at him. “You said I was going to be discharged today, pretty sure that means I can leave.”

That was true on both accounts, however, Hugh was waiting until the end of his shift to discharge Paul. He’d been (foolishly?) hoping they could talk before Paul walked out, possibly forever.

“Yes, but…”

Paul stands, placing his weight on his left leg and slowly lowering his right leg. Hugh refrained from reaching out to steady Paul. He should at least get some crutches or a walking cane until the boot came off. Paul takes a few hobbled steps to the door, but Hugh grabs his arm.

“If you’d just—”

“Let go, I—”

Paul tries to twist away but loses his balance and trips over his feet trying to regain it. Hugh pulls him closer and the two tumble to the floor. Paul lands in Hugh’s lap with his cast leg outstretched and Hugh tightly wraps his arms around Paul.

“Are you okay?” Hugh asks once he gets his breath back.

Paul is shaking and clutching Hugh, his breathing coming in ragged hitches.

“Paul?”

Hugh is becoming alarmed now and tries to pry Paul off to look for any injuries, but the other man clings even tighter. Hugh adjusts his arms so it’s more a hug than a protective embrace. He sets his hand on Paul’s hair.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

“I… I can’t… I…” Paul chokes out.

Hugh strokes his back, “It’s alright. Just keep breathing, the pain will pass.”

Paul wanted to bitterly laugh. The pain has never passed for him. His heart has been in a constant state of aching only changing in severity. Some days the pain was a faint ache, other days it was debilitating. He wanted Hugh so badly and here he was in his arms. Could he risk it? Could he tell Hugh how he felt even at the risk of losing what little shreds of his heart he had left?

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I…” he says, voice thick with tears.

Hugh gently hushes him, “You have nothing to be sorry for. Everything’s alright.”

Paul shook his head and pulled his face back from being burrowed in Hugh’s shoulder. He keeps his gaze down, not ready to meet Hugh’s eyes.

“No, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. When you came back I didn’t listen to what you were saying or pay attention to what you wanted. I only thought about myself.” He takes a calming breath and continues, “You looked happier when you were away from me. So I thought you living without me would be best. You have a new life, and I wouldn’t be some past relic dragging you down. You wanted to move on and I… I hurt you enough. I couldn’t do that to you anymore.”

Paul thought Hugh was happier away from him? If that wasn’t the absolute farthest thing from the truth. Hugh slid his fingers in Paul’s hair and pulled him close.

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I yelled at you and for what I said. I was scared, angry, and confused and I took it out on you. You were only trying to help, and I lashed out at you. I thought after that you didn’t want me anymore.”

Paul is quiet and Hugh can tell he’s listening. He moves his hand to cradle Paul’s jaw and tilts his head to catch Paul’s eyes.

“Hey,” the soft entreaty works, and Paul looks up. Blue eyes were red-rimmed and shimmering with tears. Tiny flickers of hope shadowed by apprehension.

“After everything settled down in me, no matter how different I felt I knew one thing was still the same. I love you.”

There he said it and damn the consequences. He still loved Paul and at least now he knew. It felt nice to say it first. When their relationship first started, Hugh waited for Paul to say it. Hugh knew very well how he felt about the man, but he didn’t want to risk scaring Paul away by (what he would consider) an emotionally intense statement.

There’s a little more hope in those blue eyes he loves so much. Paul breathes in and huffs a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

“You’ve had a year to find someone else, someone better, and you still want me? I took you for granted and put my work before you. When you came back I only thought about absolving myself of that guilt. I didn’t think about your needs.”

“I will always want you. I know you can be obsessive about your work and the war certainly didn’t help. But I knew you still loved and cared about me. You showed me all the time even when you didn’t realize it.”

He rests their foreheads together, hand still on Paul’s cheek and gently caressing his skin. A tear slips free and Hugh brushes it aside. “We both hurt each other without meaning to.”

Paul closes his eyes and savors Hugh’s touch, his scent, and the nearness that he’d been dreaming about for so long. Hugh’s reassurances and simple declaration of love nearly move him to tears. All this time Hugh still loved him. Reno would probably smack us both and roll her eyes near out of her head.

“Hugh?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too. I never stopped, don’t think I could if I tried.”

Hugh blinked his misty eyes and smiled. He gently drew Paul closer and paused just before their lips could meet. Paul knew what he was doing, a silent request for permission to continue. He answered by closing the distance between them.

Every inch of Paul became alight with feeling and warmth. He could feel the gaping hole in him rapidly fill with the love he felt through Hugh’s kiss. Something restarts within him, and Paul wonders if it’s his heart. They pull away only slightly, lips still meeting slowly and gently in soft pecks.

“I love you so much,” Hugh murmured.

Paul leans his forehead against his and nods. Hugh wants to savor this moment forever, but he feels his backside growing numb from sitting on the hard floor. He’s sure Paul isn’t much comfortable either. The doctor slips one arm around Paul’s shoulders and the other under his knees. Paul lets out a surprised gasp when Hugh stands with him in his arms. He sets Paul on the bed and sits beside him, wrapping him in a hug.

They part and Hugh curves his hand around the back of Paul’s neck, “Think you could stay until the end of my shift? I’ll discharge you then and maybe escort you home?”

Paul’s smile wobbles but there’s genuine happiness and love there. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Evening had fallen by the time Hugh finished work and was able to take Paul home. The walk from the transport is in companionable silence punctured only by the tap of Paul’s crutch hitting the ground. Paul cast fleeting glances at Hugh. His heart fluttered with nervous energy similar to when they had their first in-person date.

You kissed him earlier today, this isn’t nearly as intimate. Paul brushes his fingers against Hugh’s hand. He can’t bring himself to look at Hugh’s reaction to the silent gesture. His heart skips a beat when Hugh intertwines their fingers.

Paul opens his front door, “Be careful of the door, Mocha sometimes tries to escape.”

Before Hugh can ask who that is, a small fluffy body sprints out and jumps atop the low wall near the door. A dark and light brown cat with vivid blue eyes and an opinionated sounding meow which she was directing at Paul.

He sighed fondly and petted the feline, “Yes, I know. I’m sorry I was gone. Forgive me?”

Mocha purred and rubbed her head against his hand. Paul’s face softened with an adorable smile. He had once talked about getting a cat or two back when they fantasized about living together.

“You got a cat,” Hugh said, smiling.

Paul glanced away shyly, “Yeah, I saw her at the shelter, and she needed a home so… yeah.”

Hugh reaches over and for a moment Paul worries Mocha will hiss and scratch. Instead, she delicately sniffs his fingers and then rubs her face against his hand. Hugh scratches under her chin eliciting a pleased purr.

“Huh, she’s normally not one for strangers.”

“Well I do have a way with cats,” he looks at Paul with a wry smile, “and cat people.”

Paul feels his cheeks grow warm and hopes Hugh doesn’t notice as he pets Mocha.

“So, would you rather rest in bed or on the couch?” Hugh asks.

“Couch, I’ve been lying in a bed long enough.”

Hugh helped him get settled and replicated dinner for them both. Paul insisted he didn’t have to, but Hugh countered saying the food would do them both some good. He even got Paul to take his prescribed pain killers. Afterward, he clears away the dishes and gets Paul more comfortable on the couch.

“Are you leaving now?” Paul tries to make his question sound casual.

He doesn’t want to pressure Hugh or make him feel obligated to stay. He technically doesn’t have to since Paul is now safe at home. He would like it, immensely, if Hugh stayed for a little bit.

“I don’t have to. I’m not working tomorrow, and I don’t have anything pressing going on.”

Hugh knows he should sit in the nearby armchair, but his whole being craves being closer to Paul. He wants to hold him and feel his weight nestled against his body. He glances at the empty spot next to Paul and then at the man himself. Paul understands the silent question being asked and nods.

He sits and angles his body the way he sometimes would when they cuddled. Paul looks surprised and hesitantly scoots closer. Hugh wraps his arms warmly around Paul and helps readjust him into a comfortable position.

Paul leans back with a contented sigh, cradled between Hugh’s legs and resting against his broad chest. Strong arms wrapped gently around him enveloping him in love and safety. Paul felt his eyelids growing heavier with each blink. He knew part of it was from the painkillers and exhaustion from the day. However, he likes to think a larger part of his growing drowsiness is the calm he feels being with Hugh. Paul lets himself fully relax and drift to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh doesn’t know how long they’ve laid on the couch and doesn’t really care. He’s fully comfortable lying here with Paul, who has managed to roll on his side and wrap both arms around him. Hugh gently toys with Paul’s hair and occasionally strokes his back.

A distant part of his mind tells him it’s late and they should go to bed. They weren’t young and sleeping on the couch wouldn’t hurt them in the morning. Hugh sighs, reluctant to break this hard-won serenity. He looks down at Paul’s peaceful sleeping face, feeling moderately guilty at having to disturb that peace.

He kisses his hair, “Paul?”

No response.

He shifts his body and Paul sleepily grumbles at the disturbance. Hugh smiles fondly, “Paul, wake up.”

Paul doesn’t open his eyes when he groans, “What?”

“It’s late and you should be sleeping in bed, not the couch.”

Paul burrows his face in Hugh’s chest, “The bed’s too far and you’re right here.”

Hugh really doesn’t want to part, but he knows it’s for the best. He sits up and carefully untangles himself from Paul. “Come on, love, up and at’em.”

Paul reluctantly complies. He looks adorably tired, and his hair sticks out every which way. Mocha stood, stretching all four legs and arching her back. She’d been sitting atop the backrest watching over them with half-lidded eyes.

Seeing that Paul’s bedroom was on the second floor, Hugh gets an idea. Before he can protest, Hugh has him in his arms in a bridal carry. Paul feels lighter than he remembers and makes a note to write up a dietary plan to help.

“I figured this would be easier than having you climb the stairs yourself.”

“Any excuse to carry me, huh?”

Hugh smiles at the memory of the first time Paul said that. He’d been sick with a cold and Hugh spent his shore leave taking care of him.

“Oh, honey I don’t need an excuse.”

Paul smiles at likely the same memory. Hugh carries him upstairs with Mocha trotting behind and he sets Paul on the edge of the bed.

“Think you’d be up for a shower tonight or wait?”

Paul yawns, “As much as I’d love to get the hospital smell off me, I think it’ll have to wait. Too tired now.”

Hugh can see that and smiles at how Paul looks like a sleepy cat about to fall over. He rifles through Paul’s dresser and pulls out a loose shirt and sleep pants. Hugh keeps his touching to a minimum as he helps Paul change clothes. He pulls back the blankets for Paul to crawl into bed. Mocha hops up at the foot of the bed, circles around a few times, and lays down.

“Comfy?”

“Yeah,” Paul looks down at his blanketed lap.

He wants to ask Hugh to stay, to lay in bed with him. But this is far different than cuddling on the couch. It feels more intimate even if they’re fully clothed. Would it be too much to ask? This reconnection between them is new and delicate and Paul does not want to screw it all up. He should be satisfied with what time he got to spend with Hugh already. If he moved too fast and ruined everything….

“Paul?” He looks up and sees Hugh with his head tilted inquisitively.

Just ask him. “Would you… I mean… you don’t have to but could you… stay? The night I mean. Y-You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.” Paul feels his face growing hot, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked, that was wrong and—”

His rambling is stopped when Hugh lightly kisses his cheek. The doctor doesn’t look upset or offended, just fondly amused.

“It wasn’t wrong, and I’d like to. Are you sure?”

Paul nods, “Please.”

Hugh borrows a set of pajamas from Paul’s dresser. Sharing clothes was a benefit of being roughly the same height and build. Paul remembers how they’d swap a shirt or sweater before having to part for a long time. Having something that smelled like Hugh helped in those weeks or months apart.

Hugh shuts off the lights and slips into bed, careful not to jostle Paul. Almost immediately, Paul cuddles up to Hugh. They arrange themselves into a more comfortable position. Arms wrapped around each other, and Paul’s head rested on Hugh’s chest. Hugh threads his fingers through Paul’s hair and slips his other hand under his shirt to rest at the small of his back.

Paul nuzzles the side of Hugh’s neck and places featherlight kisses on his pulse. “I love you.”

Hugh smiles and tenderly kisses his head, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

The air of relief on the ship shifted to one of excitement and Paul could understand why. The conflict with the Ten-C had been resolved and now everyone was preparing to head out on vacation. A long overdue vacation.

While the ship underwent repairs from the battering it took on its journey, the crew had to use the transporters at Federation HQ. The lines were abnormally long though since HQ was still transporting people back to their homes after the mass evacuation.

Paul sighed and drummed his fingers against his arm. Hugh snickered at his impatience and kissed his cheek.

“So impatient,” he murmured, smiling.

Paul leaned closer, “I’m impatient to get there before another universe-ending threat crops up. We haven’t had a vacation since that god-awful war. I intend to enjoy having you to myself without danger looming over us.”

Hugh slipped his arm around Paul’s waist and his hand may have briefly detoured to palm Paul’s backside. Hugh’s lips grazed his temple, voice low and husky. The tone that promises sensual activities in the near future.

“That makes two of us.”

Paul was glad Adira was somewhere else with Tilly and not here with them. At times, he enjoyed embarrassing them by being publicly affectionate with Hugh. Just not when that affection takes a more sexual undertone.

Paul glances to the side and sees Reno, leaning against the railing and looking out at the expansive view from the windows. He’d been meaning to talk to her after what happened with Booker and Tarka.

“Hey, I need to,” he inclined his head at Reno.

Hugh looks and smiles at him in understanding, “You go ahead, I’ll let you know when it’s our turn.”

Paul gives him a quick kiss and walks over to Reno. She’s dressed in jeans and a flannel jacket with a black valise by her feet. Outwardly, she appears fine, but Paul knows better than most how easy it is to hide what’s going on inside.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey Bobcat, thought you and the doc would be gone by now on your honeymoon.”

Paul rolls his eyes, “We’re not married.” Yet.

“Okay, pre-honeymoon then,” she dryly corrects.

“You know, I came over here to see how you are, but I can see you’re doing just fine.”

Her lips quirk up in amusement and Paul feels slightly reassured. He mirrors her posture and braces his arms against the railing.

“I do mean it though, how are you doing? Being kidnapped by Tarka, almost dying with Booker, and… all that.”

To his surprise, she doesn’t deflect with sarcasm. “I’m… doing okay.”

That phrase could have a myriad of meanings and Paul was never good at parsing out the emotional subtext in people’s words. He’s not sure when or why he started caring about Reno as more than an annoying coworker. Maybe it was the patience and understanding she showed him when Hugh was gone and after his return. Maybe it was the verbal sparring that reminded him achingly of what he and Justin had.
“You know… when we were on Book’s ship. Tarka was trying to sell us on what he was doing, get on his side. He said we’d be able to find the people we loved and lost in the other universe. Booker would have his planet and… I’d have my wife.”

Reno is staring at her hands, slowly fidgeting with her fingers. “I was tempted but didn’t feel right. It wouldn’t be the same. Plus there was a chance there’d be a copy of me with her and well I’m not one to share.”

Paul admires her resistance to such a temptation. If someone had offered him something like that after Hugh died, he honestly doesn’t think he’d be as strong.

He knows by saying this he’s treading into emotionally fraught territory. But he does it anyway. “For what it’s worth I’m glad you didn’t take his offer. I already lost one friend out in the black. I’d rather not lose another.”

Paul braces for some snarky comment but instead Reno smiles gently and nudges his shoulder. “Feeling’s mutual.”

A moment of warm silence passed between them.

Reno’s expression sobered a bit, “I did feel kinda bad for the guy. He wanted to get back the person he loved most but he let his grief get the best of him.”

Paul nodded. He hated to admit it, but he could understand Tarka’s motivations. If it weren’t for Tilly, Tracy, or Reno, Paul is pretty sure he’d have gone down a similar path as the Risian.

“Well, take it from someone who has personal experience with that. Trying to recreate the happiness you had in the past never works out. You have to make a new happiness in the present.”

Reno gives him a wry, assessing look, “Did those mushrooms make you wise along with high?”

Paul rolls his eyes and Reno chuckles.

“So,” Paul asks, “Where are you headed?”

“Switzerland. Aella, my wife, always wanted to see the Swiss Alps. We just… never got the chance.” Reno shrugs as if the missed opportunity didn’t bother her, but Paul could clearly see it did. “So I thought I’d go for her. I’m going to Greece too, I always wanted to visit the Mediterranean Sea. What about you?”

“Hugh and I are going to Puerto Rico. He’s from there and I think he needs to be somewhere familiar for a while. Tilly and Adira are going to explore the West Coast.”

“I’m surprised you’re letting them vacation by themselves.”

A part of Paul was worried, but he tried to ignore it. Placating his worry by overparenting Tilly and Adira would be a disservice to them and their growing independence.

Paul tried to play it casual, “They’ll be fine. They can comm us at any time and promised to check in daily.”

Reno knowingly smirked, saying nothing.

“Paul!” He turned to see Hugh beckoning him, “Time to go.”

He starts to walk over, and Reno grabs her bag, following.

He pauses, “Hey, um the last few days of leave we were all going to meet up in Paris, France. Adira wants to visit and maybe we could spend those days together or at least have dinner.”

Reno’s smile was soft and genuine, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chapter Text

“Commander?”

Paul refrains from sighing, “Yes, Zora?”

“My sensors indicate that all personnel on alpha and beta shifts have left for the day. There are no pressing matters that those on gamma shift cannot manage. Yet you remain.”

Paul can see from his empty lab that yes everyone is gone. “I’m well aware of that Zora. I have a few things to finish up first.”

There’s no response and Paul thinks that’s it. He keys in more data on a new breed of fungi that was picked up on their last planet exploration.

“Commander? Have I upset you?”

What? He keeps his voice level, “Why do you ask that?”

“I picked up minor inflictions in your voice showing signs of irritability.”

Paul wasn’t sure how to respond to what was Zora saying he sounded annoyed. To be fair, he was annoyed but that stemmed from anxiety. Zora and her advanced sentience put him on edge. Everyone accepted her so readily… except him. His fears were brushed off and Kovitch even threatened to boot him off the ship if he didn’t play nice with Zora.

He didn’t trust Zora as the others did. How could he? He barely knew her or even understand who (what?) she is. Not only that but Zora had control over the entire ship. She could do whatever she wanted to them. It was a pure miracle that Zora had good intentions and liked the crew.

What if she took her directive of protecting the crew too far? Or worse she went rogue like Control did? Or get hijacked like Ariaim?

“Commander?”

He sighs, “I’m fine Zora.”

“You are still not… comfortable with me, are you?” Her voice almost sounded hesitant as if she worried about upsetting him further.

“Honestly? I can’t really say I am. I know you mean well, but you have way more control over us than I’m comfortable with. I know you’re a part of the crew now and have to follow our rules. But that doesn’t stop people from breaking those rules, even you. Still, if you say you won’t, your word doesn’t mean much to me right now.”

The last time someone bent the rules for the greater good he got nerve pinched, blown out into space, and Hugh and Adira were nearly killed. People can mean well, but that doesn’t mean they’ll do well.

“I understand. Are you concerned I will hurt someone despite the intention of protecting them? Like you and Captain Burnham when we were captured by the Emerald Chain?”

Paul isn’t sure how she came to that conclusion or that she even knew about… all that.

“We have to jump back now. He’s in the nebula and so is Saru—”

“We have to get you off this ship!”

“They’ll die.”

“I know.”

Paul thinks it’s some echo in his head of that horrible conversation, right before Burnham betrayed him with a Vulcan nerve pinch. But no, that’s not it. This isn’t in his head; Zora is playing an actual audio recording of it.

“Stop!” Paul shouts, panicked.

He grips the table, digging his palm against the table corner. It’s a minor discomfort he tries to focus on rather than his suffocating panic. You’re not there. You’re safe. Hugh and Adira are safe. The ship isn’t in danger, everyone’s fine. With effort, Paul brings himself down from the coursing adrenaline and remembered terror.

“—mmander? Commander? Are you alright?” Paul is vaguely aware of Zora speaking to him.

“Fine,” he rasps. “I’m fine.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. It was thoughtless of me and—”

He halts her rambling apology, “Stop, I’m—It’s… never mind.” A thought occurs to him though, “Zora? Did you… record what happened between me and Burnham?”

Zora is hesitant in answering, “Yes. I have cameras and audio devices in the main areas of the ship for security purposes. Including the spore drive bay and airlocks.”

“Does… anyone else know what happened? Or that you..?”

“No. To my knowledge, no one is aware that the confrontation between you and Captain Burnham was recorded.”>/em>

Paul is silent as he takes in the implications.

“If you would like I could show—”

“No!” Paul sharply cuts her off. He lowers his volume, “No I—don’t show anyone, please. No one… no one needs to know.”

Paul isn’t keeping their confrontation a secret for Burnham’s sake. He couldn’t care less what happens to her. No, it’s that he doesn’t want people to see how he reacted. The way he lashed out and then pathetically begged Burnham to not let his family die.

No, the footage would paint Burnham as a loyal Starfleet officer, doing her noble duty by accepting the sacrifice of someone else. Paul would be the petty, selfish one. Risking the crew, the ship, and the Federation’s safety, just to save two people that only matter to him.

His voice is quiet and weak, “Please Zora, don’t show this to anyone else.”

There’s a long pause before Zora answers, “Very well, sir.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The night was quiet and peaceful though Paul’s mind was not. He twitched and shifted restlessly in bed. Memories, twisted by subconscious fear, flash through his mind creating a lifelike nightmare.

“No!” Paul cries out as he shoots up in bed.

Tremors rack his body, and his breathing is harsh. With effort, he looks to his left and feels some relief at seeing Hugh asleep. Adrenaline is pumping through his system again and Paul feels his stomach give a nauseous flip. He recognizes the feeling and rushes to the bathroom in time to heave what little he ate for dinner.

The physical purging does nothing to remove the awful scenes in his head. His body finally stops, and he shakily stands, leaning heavily against the bathroom counter. He quickly brushes his teeth to rid the taste of bile. A cursory glance at the mirror and Paul starts at how pale he looks. A ghost would have more coloring than he did right now.

He leans against the doorway, still shivering and feeling spent. The bed is just a few feet away, I can make it. But he was reluctant to leave the support of the doorframe.

“Paul?” Hugh sleepily mumbles. He props himself up a little, rubbing his eyes, “What’s wrong?”

Paul tries to straighten up. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

Hugh hears the catch in Paul’s voice before he can cover it up. The doctor is already out of bed and at his side before Paul can stop him. He gently grips Paul’s arm to steady him, feeling small quivers run through his body. Hugh rests the back of his hand against Paul’s forehead, then cheek, skin cool and clammy.

“Are you sure you feel alright?” Hugh was tempted to grab his tricorder on the nightstand. Paul still got annoyed by his doctoring but would stifle his complaints if Hugh said it’d give him peace of mind.

Paul glances away and that tells Hugh even more that something isn’t right. “Yeah, think I ate something that didn’t agree with me.”

Hugh refrains from pointing out that Paul barely ate anything tonight. He tries for the gentler (and more effective) approach. He cradles his jaw with one hand and wraps his arm around his waist. Hugh knows Paul isn’t telling him everything because he doesn’t want him to worry, but it’s doing the opposite.

“Love, I’ll only worry more if I don’t know what’s going on.”

His eyes flick up to Hugh then away and he can see the internal struggle. Hugh patiently waits, trusting that Paul will tell him what’s wrong and what he needs.

Paul shudders and shakes his head, “Just a… nightmare, that’s all.”

Now that Hugh can believe. He lightly kisses his cheek, “Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”

He guides them back to their bed and gently grips Paul’s arm when he moves to crawl into his side of the bed.

“Why don’t you sleep on my side tonight?”

Paul looks at him with mild confusion and Hugh shrugs, “Humor me.”

The scientist does and he’s oddly complaisant, letting Hugh practically tuck him into bed. He drapes another blanket over Paul and leaves a glass of water on the nightstand. Hugh slips under the covers and Paul makes a near desperate grab for him.

Hugh gathers him into his arms and says gently, “Must’ve been pretty bad to shake you up like this.”

Paul nods and burrows his face in the crook of Hugh’s neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hugh knows it’s a long shot but asks anyway. Most of the time Paul said no but on the rare occasion he did talk.

“No, I don’t remember much. Woke up feeling terrified and sick. I’m sorry I shouldn’t… it’s been weeks I should… be over it, not having nightmares still and….” Guilt and shame lace Paul’s voice and Hugh isn’t having any of it.

He tenderly cards his hand through Paul’s hair and tilts his head up, placing a gentle, reassuring kiss on his lips. To Hugh’s relief, Paul reciprocates though doesn’t take it farther than this. Paul’s hands tightly grip Hugh’s shirt but with every touch, kiss, and comforting word Hugh feels him relax.

Hugh keeps up his soothing ministrations until Paul settles into sleep, breathing even and no more shaking. Hugh sadly knows many things that could be nightmare fodder for Paul. The war, Justin’s death, getting trapped in the network, Hugh’s death, nearly losing Hugh after he came back, almost dying from a shrapnel wound, Osyraa and the nebula, and…

Wait.

Paul had said weeks ago meaning…. Hugh sighed when the realization hit, and he hugged Paul closer. The doctor knew what happened while he, Saru, and Adira were away. What Burnham did to Paul. Paul had given him a simple overview of the events and Hugh never pushed for more details. Not when recounting the basics was draining and panic-inducing enough for Paul.

“Doctor Culber?” Zora softly asks.

Hugh glanced up at the ceiling, “Yeah, Zora?”

“Is everything alright? I heard Commander Stamets shout in what sounded like panic along with a spike in his heart rate.”

He turned his attention back to Paul and gently petted his hair, “He’s fine, just a nightmare.”

“I believe that was my fault.”

“Your fault?”

“We were conversing earlier today, and I may have triggered him.”

Hugh asks, now curious, “How?”

“I was trying to deduce why he was still apprehensive around me. The discussion led to recalling the confrontation between Commander Stamets and Captain Burnham when the Emerald Chain seized the ship.”

She spoke the last sentence tentatively like she was unsure if Hugh knew or not. He adjusted his hold on Paul, “I know what happened.”

“I tactlessly played the recording of the scene and—”

“Wait, wait,” Hugh interrupted. “You… you recorded that?”

“Yes. As I told the commander I have cameras and audio devices in the main areas of the ship for security purposes. Including the spore drive bay and airlocks. Commander Stamets requested I not share this information or the recordings with anyone. Though I believe I have broken part of that promise.”

Hugh’s eyes widen and his hand strokes Paul’s hair. Oh, love…. His heart aches for him, having his trauma inadvertently thrown back at him and learning there was concrete evidence of it.

“Did Paul say why he didn’t want anyone to see?”

“No, he did not.”

Hugh bites his lip and debates the merits of pulling up the recordings and seeing it all for himself. He reluctantly pushes the idea aside. If Paul didn’t want him or anyone knowing, he must have a reason and Hugh had to trust that.

“Okay, I won’t ask to see, but I will tell him that you told me. I don’t want to keep secrets between us, and I’ll let him know you meant no harm.”

That’s how things started going south for them way back. Secrets had wormed into their relationship and ate away at the foundation of trust and love that they had built. It took dying, being resurrected, time apart, and nearly dying again to fix the damage. Hugh and Paul had learned the utter importance of being honest with themselves and each other.

“Very well, Doctor. Do you… believe Commander Stamets is angry with me? I doubt he will feel comfortable around me after that.”

Hugh tucks the blankets closer around them as if that could shield Paul from any nightmares his mind concocted.

“I don’t think he’s angry. Just… give him time Zora. Friendship and trust take time.” So does trauma.

Chapter Text

If Paul is being honest, there are times he feels…

Redundant.

Superfluous.

Obsolete.

…unnecessary.

It’s stupid he knows. An extra pair of hands or a head to think out solutions is always needed. But what more was he than that?

Adira was brilliant and far outstripped his own intelligence. They were self-sufficient and could handle any problem or project on their own without his interference. Zora only added to that with her impossibly immense wealth of knowledge and omnipotent multitasking. Neither needed his help with anything.

Reno could fix and maintain the spore drive better than he could and he invited the damn thing. Paul wasn’t an engineer by trade like Reno. But it still stung that she knew his machine so well that she could fix it without him.

Being the navigator, the one thing that made him unique amongst the whole crew, had been taken from him too. Booker could jump the ship just as Paul could, albeit differently but still effective. All Booker had to do was ask the spores and they did as he asked. He didn’t have to interface with the network like Paul did or need any special equipment or genetic augmentation.

And Hugh… Paul quietly sighs and looks over at his partner, sound asleep. His arms are loosely curled around Paul and his head leaning against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Hugh. I’m just… not in the mood.”

Hugh gently backed off on more intimate kissing. If he was disappointed, he hid it well. “That’s alright, love. Have you been feeling okay? You seem… distracted lately.”

Paul swallowed, “I’m fine, just not up for it tonight.”

Hugh didn’t seem to believe him but didn’t press the issue. He pulled the covers up to their shoulders and snuggled close.

“Okay, but you know you can always come talk to me if something’s wrong.”

“I know.”

And what am I supposed to say? Sorry, I’m not in the mood for sex because I feel inadequate to everyone I know including you? Hugh and Paul were both natural overachievers in their respective fields. That was driven more by their passion for their work than some need to be validated or revered.

But while Hugh was excelling Paul felt he was stagnating. Paul was happy for him, truly. He adored the way Hugh’s face lit up when he learned something new in medicine or his recent studying of psychology. He was finding new ways to help people and fulfilling his innate purpose to heal others.

Paul feels like he’s being left behind and no one notices.

He tried to take a page from Tilly’s book and branch out to something new. Paul had been told he was a good teacher and would be great in the classroom. Hell, before their leap to the future, he’d been offered a teaching position at the Vulcan Science Academy. Paul penned messages to Tilly and the director of the VSA about any openings to test the waters. Tilly had ecstatically replied with a list of positions and the director too, pleased though less emotional.

Paul thought about discussing it with Hugh. He would never apply without talking to him about it first. But Paul had to first see if he could even apply. He sent a transfer request off of Discovery to Burnham.

It was denied.

Their captain cited a bunch of reasons why like “valued member of the crew”, “too important to Discovery to lose,” and “vital to the ship’s success in Starfleet”. Paul saw through those empty, bullshit reasons for what they really were.

Paul belonged to Discovery. He belonged to Starfleet. Not to himself.

Booker could jump but he wasn’t here now, so they needed Paul. And when Booker comes back (not if, because Paul knows Burnham will want him back and she always gets what she wants) Paul will still be forced to stay. He’s the backup now, the obsolete spare they’ll use only when in a pinch.

Paul is figuratively chained to the spore drive. He realizes now there is something worse than feeling unnecessary. At least then he could be let go and free to do what he wanted. Now he doesn’t even have that.

Chapter Text

[Reno- Jett-CMDR/ENG] Hey Doc, got a second? I got a question for ya.

[Culber-Hugh-CMDR/MED] Sure, Jett, what is it?

[Reno-Jett-CMDR/ENG] When was the last time you and Stamets got laid?

Hugh nearly spits out his coffee. He’s gotten used to Reno’s blunt way of speaking, though the question is still unexpected.

[Culber-Hugh-CMDR/MED] Not sure if I should answer that. Dare I ask why you want to know?

[Reno-Jett-CMDR/ENG] Because Stamets nearly took off Burnham’s head. I know he gets wound up like a spring when she enters the room. He’s been tense and moody all week, figured you two were overdue for a session between the sheets.

Hugh has noticed Paul’s change in mood too. He wasn’t snappish, at least not around Hugh, but distracted and a little despondent. Maybe it was time they sat down and talked, especially if Reno was showing concern.

[Culber-Hugh-CMDR/MED] I’ll talk to him and see what’s going on.

[Reno-Jett-CMDR/ENG] Thanks Doc. If anyone can fix the Mushroom Lord, it’s you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul sits on the window seat in an empty lounge room. This one was smaller and lesser-used than the others. He wanted to be alone and didn’t feel like retreating to any of his usual hideaways. They weren’t at warp, so the stars glinted at them as they slowly passed by.

He needed a place to cool his head and calm his nerves. Being around Burnham still made him feel edgy, and her recent rejection of his transfer request stung. His emotions got the better of him. He was angry and frustrated, and maybe, subconsciously, he wanted to pick a fight.

“Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Paul looks up to see Detmer standing a few feet from him. She looked mildly curious at seeing him rather than annoyed. They had smoothed things over since her explosion at him during Saru’s dinner months ago. Though he still didn’t know her well.

“Sorry, I can leave if—"

“Don’t get up on my account,” she reassures and sits across from him on the window seat. She tilts her head a little, studying him. “You look tired.”

Paul gives her a faint rueful smile, “Is that a nice way of saying I’m old?”

Detmer snorts, “Technically, you are older than me, but no. I meant that you look worn out.”

He could shrug and brush off her observation, saying it’s nothing. She was younger than him and didn’t need to be saddled with his issues. But… Hugh always encouraged him to talk about his problems and reach out for help. Maybe talking to someone not involved with his inadequacies might help.

He can’t handle looking at the pilot, so his gaze drops to his hands. “I do feel worn out, but mostly I feel… useless.”

Detmer crosses her legs to get comfortable and leans forward, “Why?”

“I feel like there’s no reason for me to be on this ship. Adira and Zora make a brilliant team, and I’m nothing but a third wheel. Reno can fix and maintain the spore drive without my help. Unlike me, Booker can jump the ship without risk to himself or others.

“And Hugh,” Paul looks at Detmer. “I love him, and I’m honestly happy he’s found ways to better help everyone here. But while he’s making strides, I feel… stuck. I know that must sound bad, but it’s true. There’s nothing here for me as a scientist, spore drive engineer, or navigator.”

Detmer slowly nods, “I get that. I felt pretty useless myself after we crash landed in the future. Then again when Zora flew us through that nebula because I couldn’t. I thought, ‘what good is a pilot on a ship that can fly itself?’”

Her expression softens and becomes thoughtful. “But then I realized there are things I can do that Zora can’t. Like fly manually or have an actual feel of the ship and the exact way to fly it right. So, maybe that’s true for you too. There must be things that you can do that the others can’t.

“I bet there’s a lot of stuff you know that Adira or Zora don’t. It doesn’t have to be science-related either; life experience counts too. Reno is the best engineer, but you invented the spore drive. Who can know more about it than the creator?

“And Booker,” Detmer nibbled her lip and smiled slightly. “I don’t know much about the mechanics of the jumps and navigating the network. However, we have more than one pilot on this ship, which doesn’t make my role any less meaningful. It’s good to have a backup, someone you can share the responsibility with.”

Paul hadn’t thought of it that way. He turned over Detmer’s words and saw she was right. He could still teach Adira and learn alongside them. Science was about learning and discovering new things and sharing it with others. Not being the smartest person in the room.

Reno, Paul would begrudgingly admit, is a good engineer. However, she still always went to him regarding anything involving the spore drive. Paul had been the only navigator for so long that it was strange to have another on board. But Booker was a friend, and Detmer was right about having someone to share the responsibility with. It didn’t feel so isolating.

Detmer spoke again, “And about Hugh, maybe you should talk to him? Tell him how you’re feeling? Not just because he’s a good counselor, but because you guys have been together for a long time, right? He can do a better job of helping you than I can.”

Paul smiles softly and nods, “You’re right that I should talk to him, and I will. Although, you’re not so bad at helping people. Thank you for listening to me and helping me feel a little better.”

The ginger unfolded her legs and sat closer beside him. She fondly nudged his shoulder, “It’s what you do in a family, and you’re welcome.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh is already home by the time Paul makes it back. He’s changed into comfortable clothes and nestled on the couch reading. It’s a domestic and heartwarming scene that helps Paul relax. Hugh notices him and sets the PADD down.

He flashes Paul a warm smile, “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” Paul removes his boots and sets them neatly by the door. He sinks into the couch and snuggles up in his embrace.

“Rough day?” Hugh asks, his hands slowly roving over taut muscles that were starting to loosen.

Paul hums and closes his eyes.

“Reno commed me, said you got in an argument with Burnham.” He gently kneads a knot in Paul’s back. “And then asked when the last time was we had sex because she thought that’s why you were in a bad mood.”

Paul is nearly asleep from Hugh’s soft massaging, but the last sentence sinks in, and his head snaps up. Hugh gives him an amused look, and Paul groans, feeling exasperated and embarrassed.

“You didn’t actually answer that, did you?” Feeling slightly worried about being further embarrassed.

Hugh chuckled, “No, I didn’t. I did tell her I’d talk to you though. As forthright and brassy as her comment was, I know she was concerned about you.”

Paul knows she cares and also knows they’d both rather die than admit it. Hugh resumed his gentle strokes, accompanied by some light scratching that made Paul want to purr.

“And I am too. Do you want to talk about it?”

Paul didn’t want to but knew he should. Bottling up his feelings and brushing aside his qualms never helped. He rests his head against Hugh’s shoulder and holds Hugh’s free hand in both of his.

“Lately, I’ve been feeling useless, like there isn’t a place for me on the ship anymore. Adira, Zora, Reno, and Booker are all better versions of the things I am. The scientist, engineer, and navigator. If they can do everything I can, what was the point of me being here?”

Hugh tightened his arm around Paul and kissed his head. Paul smiled faintly at the affection and silently conveyed support. Then, as he gathers his thoughts, he continues to idly toy with Hugh’s hand. Paul then sits up, so he can look his doctor in the eye.

“I thought then to take a page from Tilly’s book and branch out, try something new. So I asked her and the VSA if they had any teaching positions open, and they did.”

Hugh’s eyebrows rise up in surprise. “Did you… apply to any of them?”

Paul shook his head, “No, I would never do that without talking to you first. I just… wanted to see what was out there.”

Hugh nods: mild relief briefly steals across his face. “Do you want to apply or…?”

The scientist leans back to rest against Hugh, his body sagging at the remembered denial. “I sent a transfer request to see if I could, but Burnham denied it. Gave a bunch of empty reasons why and it made me feel like I was stuck here. Chained to the spore drive with no hope of going or doing anything else.”

Hugh kisses him again, “I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling like that, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Talking, even thinking about it, was painful.”

“I understand and what matters is that you’re talking to me now.”

“I talked to Detmer earlier, and she pointed out there might be things that only I know or can do that the others can’t. It helped and I don’t feel as useless, but I still think I’d like to try something new, someday.”

Hugh thoughtfully hums, “You could try appealing to Burnham again or ask for Saru’s help convincing her. Vance might even agree if you can persuade him that you’re of better use at the Academy than Discovery.”

Paul nods; that could work. “Would you be upset if I did? It’d take me away from you and Adira.”

“Would you be upset if I told you I was interested in going back to the Academy to become a licensed counselor?”

Paul abruptly sits up and looks Hugh, who is calmly smiling. “You… you are? Hugh, you’d be amazing.”

He blushes slightly at the praise. “I can take courses virtually, but nothing beats an in-person class.”

“Adira wouldn’t be happy with us leaving them.”

“True,” Hugh concedes. “But since they never entered or graduated from the Academy, I’m sure some educational gaps need to be filled. They could come with if they wanted.”

Hope and excitement suffused Paul’s heart. They could do this. He could find a new purpose, and his family would still be with him as they found and explored theirs.

“I love you,” Paul blurts out.

Hugh blinks, then smiles in that warm, profound way when it’s just the two of them. He draws him in for a kiss, “I love you too.”

Paul gets an idea and rearranges himself so he’s straddling Hugh’s lap with his arms resting against his broad shoulders. Hugh wraps his arms around Paul’s waist and looks up at him with playfulness and interest.

“So when was the last time we had sex?” Paul asks, only half-joking.

Hugh, playing along, tilts his head as if giving the question more thought than necessary. “Almost two weeks, I think.”

Paul is briefly startled by the answer, “Have I really been neglecting you for that long?”

“I wouldn’t say neglecting.”

Paul leans down to thoroughly kiss him. When they part for air, Paul sees Hugh’s eyes alight with desire.

Paul slowly grins, “Seems I’ve got some make-up work to do.”

“Indeed you do, Professor Stamets.”

Chapter Text

Aurellio threw a furtive glance at Stamets. The man was… not particularly hostile but certainly not friendly. And why would he be to you? Someone who had an indirect hand in the near-death of his partner and child? The two were partnered to hammer out the kinks in the pathway drive design. Tarka was technically supposed to be here too but claimed he had “more important” things to do.

Perhaps that was for the best; while Tarka is brilliant, the man could rub people the wrong way effortlessly. And Stamets looked very close to snapping someone in two. It was a shame, really. If not for conflicting personalities and painful history between the three of them, they could’ve possibly been friends. Having people that matched his intellect and love of science was indescribably refreshing to Aurellio.

But perhaps that had been too much to hope for.

He cast another look at Stamets, who noticed this time, and sighed roughly. “If you have something to say, say it.”

His words were curt but there was a layer of exhaustion to his tone. Upon closer inspection, the Starfleet scientist looked worn, like he hadn’t slept well in days. Aurellio wondered if Stamets was ill or the stress of the project (and his presence) were the cause.

“No, nothing. Just uh wondering if you finished the spore conversion calculations,” he said.

Stamets sighed again and rubbed his eyes, “I’ll be done in a minute.”

He nodded, flashed him an appeasing smile, and returned to his work. His part in this step was done, and he only needed Stamets to finish. The bay was peacefully quiet and felt oddly safe here. He could work on projects that would help all people, not the controlling hoard and—

The doors swish open, and Captain Burnham strides in. Aurellio notes that Stamets immediately stiffens, and his face is a neutral glower. How strange.

“Paul, have you finished updating the pathway drive designs yet?”

“We’re working on it,” Stamets says tightly.

She cants her head with a playful smile, “I thought this would be an easy project for you. It’s not that different from the spore drive.”

Aurellio’s head swings between Burnham and Stamets as their banter continues, seemingly unaware that he is still there. The more they spoke, the more agitated and rattled Stamets became. Could she not see that?

He tries to redirect their attention, “Uh, commander?”

“Your point?” Stamets coolly bites out.

“I know you can do better if you just—” She steps closer to touch him.

Stamets takes a sharp step back in a way that reminds Aurellio of an angered cat. His hands are tightly fisted and his body tense as though he can’t decide whether to fight or flee.

“Commander!” Aurellio shouts.

“What the hell’s going on over here?”

The three look to see Commander Reno walking in looking bored and annoyed. “Well?”

Wrong commander, Aurellio thinks and hopes he hasn’t made the situation worse.

Burnham straightens up, “Paul and I were merely talking.”

Reno looks between the two of them, and Aurellio sees her keen eyes assess the situation for what it is. She crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight on one leg.

“Really? Look, Burnham harassing Stamets is my job, and I don’t like people doing my job for me.”

Burnham’s lips purse in displeasure. “I am not harassing him; we were talking. And you need to address me as captain.”

Reno doesn’t roll her eyes, but he can tell it’s a close call. “Fine, Captain. If you’re done talking to Stamets, I suggest you head out. He and the other genius there have work to do.”

During the entire time, Stamets doesn’t look at Burnham or anyone. His eyes riveted to the floor or computer. Burnham wisely leaves, and Stamets only marginally relaxes. Aurellio sees Reno’s face soften slightly as she studies her fellow officer.

“Stamets? Isn’t this usually the time of day you check on your sporelings? You and the opera-loving nerd can take a break.”

He looks ready to argue but mutters, “Fine.”

Aurellio watches him close out his screens and walk into the spore garden. He’s… unsure of what just happened. Was that Reno’s way of giving Stamets an out to go privately recollect himself? From his few interactions with the woman, he could tell she knew Stamets the way a friend would. She stared at the door he had just passed through with a blank look marred by worry.

“Thanks for getting me,” she says to Aurellio. “Stamets and Burnham haven’t gotten along lately. Really stresses him out when she’s around.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome? To be honest, I meant to get Stamets’ attention.”

Reno shrugs, "Meh, still worked out.”

He looks at the door, “Should we… uh be concerned?”

“If he isn’t out in fifteen minutes, I’ll call the doc. He’s good at coaxing Stamets out.”

“…I see,” he didn’t really, but she clearly did, so he decided to trust her.

Twenty minutes pass, and Stamets still hasn’t emerged. A gentleman in medical whites does come in, though. He flashes Aurellio a genial smile before going into the spore garden. He wonders if that is the doctor Reno referred to earlier. More time passes, and his tricomm pings with a new message.

[Stamets-Paul-CMDR/SCI] Going home early, not feeling well. We’ll finish tomorrow.

[Carideo-Aurellio-NR/SPEC] Of course, please take care of yourself, and I will see you tomorrow.

He doesn’t get a reply, nor does he expect one. Indeed, he hoped Stamets would recover from whatever that interaction inflicted on him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following morning, Stamets does return, and he looks slightly less exhausted. Perhaps he only needed a full night’s rest? Stamets gives him a brief greeting before resuming yesterday’s work. Time passes slowly and silently between them.

“Thank you.”

The gratitude is spoken so softly Aurellio almost doesn’t hear it. He leans sideways to see Stamets has stopped working but won’t look at him.

“Oh, uh, for wha—?”

“For getting Reno in here and,” he gestures vaguely with his hand. “All of that.”

He exhales, and his shoulders fall, “Things aren’t… easy between Mich—the captain and I. We’re not.…”

A painful grimace steals across his face, “I can’t… It’s not—”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Aurellio gently cuts off. “I’m glad I could help you, though.”

Stamets’ face turns thoughtful, then softens, and his lips turn up in a faint smile. “You know, I could also use some help with these calculations.”

Aurellio recognizes the overture and gladly wheels over. Perhaps it had not been too much to hope for a friend.

Chapter Text

Hugh carefully shifted on the couch to make himself and Adira more comfortable. Adira, thankfully, slept on, undisturbed. He smiled fondly and gently petted their hair.

An insect sting on an away mission caused a bit of a reaction in Adira. Hugh knew Trill had adverse reactions to bug bites, varying from mild to severe. But he never thought it would apply to a human with a Symbiote. Is it because Adira has a Symbiote? Or was it the insect’s venom in a human regardless of a Symbiote? Hugh looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, mulling over different explanations.

Either way, the outcome hadn’t been too bad. Adira didn’t have an anaphylactic reaction, but their arm did redden and swell. They developed a mild fever and exhaustion too. After a dose of antihistamines and fluids, Tracy deemed them fit to rest in their quarters.

…which Hugh agreed with, but the protective father in him wanted Adira close by in case anything should happen. Even if nothing did it would still assuage his and Paul’s nerves. Adira tried to sleep in his bed, but they couldn’t get comfortable and curled up next to him on the couch instead. That eventually led to Hugh’s current position, stretched out on the couch with Adira lying on top of him.

Hugh delicately pushed up their shirt sleeve to see the sting was still red and swollen. They needed a new ice pack since this one had gone warm. He was very reluctant to move and wake Adira, especially after they just fell asleep.

The doors swish open, and Hugh holds a finger to his lips before Paul can say anything.

“Are they asleep?” He whispers, walking around the couch.

“Yeah, only a few minutes ago. Took them a while to get comfortable.”

Paul leans over and brushes back their hair. Aside from their fever-pink cheeks, they looked peaceful. Hugh sees his partner’s face soften with parental affection.

“Can I get either of you anything?” He asks.

Hugh hands him the body-warmed ice pack, “Just a new one of these. Their arm is still swollen, and I’m sure it still hurts.”

Paul does and soon hands him a freezing cold gel packet. Hugh adjusts Adira’s arm and wraps the pack around their limb. Adira continues to sleep, but they look a little comfier. Paul sits at the end of the couch and drapes Hugh’s legs over his lap. He catches Paul regarding him with warm, boundless affection that makes Hugh smile.

“What?”

Paul smiles back, “Nothing, you just… you make a really good father.”

Love and joy furl around his heart, “So do you.”

Chapter Text

Paul didn’t like this one bit. It wasn’t the anomaly per se, something that terrified and fascinated him in equal measure. It was having to work closer with Burnham. Logically, he understood why. She was the captain, and he would need to report any findings or discoveries made directly to her. Emotionally, however…

…things were still touchy between them.

He had established boundaries with her once before, and she so far had respected them up until recently. Case in point, her last visit to engineering when Aurellio was here, and Reno got involved. He had told Hugh everything, and he suggested gently reaffirming boundaries.

That’s why Paul was standing outside her ready room. He hated having to crawl to her and enter her territory. He could’ve called her down to Engineering, but he didn’t want her invading his safe space any more than necessary. So he raps on the door and steps through when granted entrance.

Burnham’s face lights up a little at seeing him and Paul clenches his jaw. While Paul forgave her actions, he still isn’t ready or willing to restart their friendship.

“Paul? Is there something I can—?”

He holds up his hand. You can do this. It’s not being selfish to look out for your own needs and well-being. “I want to reestablish some ground rules between us.”

She sighs, “I’ve already given you months of space, isn’t that enough? You’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with everything I had to do. You need to put your feelings aside for the greater good and—"

“Oh, I will put aside my feelings about you and—” He hesitates then starts again, “I’ll put them aside until we figure out this anomaly.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I’ll work with you, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends again.”

Hurt flashes in her eyes before she looks away, “You’ve made that clear already.”

Paul almost feels guilty for doing this, but the lines need to be made clear. He doesn’t want Burnham thinking she’s got a free pass, and they’re back to being friends like before. There are still emotions, and issues with her Paul hasn’t resolved yet.

“I only want you to know this, that’s all.” He leaves before the ache in his heart, the loss of their friendship, breaks his resolve.

Chapter Text

“Is it possible to get diabetes watching two people be this… sweet?” Justin asked.

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we did being exposed to that,” Tracy answered.

By ‘that,’ Tracy means Paul and Hugh walking around the botanical garden below. They were hand in hand, talking, smiling at each other, and exchanging kisses. Tracy was surprised there weren’t actual hearts floating around their heads.

Justin had never seen Paul so…lovey-dovey out in public. It was both endearing and bizarre. His caustic, prickly friend turned loving and bashful. He knew Paul was beyond head over heels for Hugh and the feeling was clearly mutual.

“I guess we should be thankful this is all they’re doing.” He dramatically drapes an arm over his eyes, “The things my poor, innocent eyes have been exposed to by them. Sights no man was meant to witness, I tell you.”

“…you were a theater kid in high school, weren’t you?” Tracy says dryly.

Justin opens one eye and grins, “What gave it away?”

She snickers at his cheek and feels almost glad she took a chance to meet the other mushroom-obsessed scientist. She sees Hugh’s arm around Paul’s waist, leaning close and murmuring something in his ear.

Her voyeur partner sees them too and asks, “How obscene would it be if I yelled ‘get a room’ at them?”

“Very, and I think Paul would actually throttle you.”

Justin snorts, “I’ve done worse, and he hasn’t killed me yet.”

A few minutes pass, and Justin speaks again, his voice quiet. “Tracy? Can I ask a favor from you?”

“What is it?”

He’s watching their friends instead of looking at her. “Astromycology isn’t a dangerous field, but space is. No matter how much exploring we do, I don’t think we’ll ever know what all is out there, let alone prepare for it. Things happen and… I want to know Paul will be okay.”

His eyes flick up to meet hers, “What I’m asking is, if anything happens to me… will you watch out for Paul? I promise to do the same for Hugh if anything happens to you. I know you care as much about Hugh as I do about Paul. They need each other, and we need them. But unpredictable, scary things can happen out in space. So, it’d be nice to know he’s got another person in his corner just in case.”

Tracy looks at him with honest surprise at his consideration and foresight. As a doctor in Starfleet, she had seen all manner of random and unusual injuries and illnesses. She knew very well how one person could be here one minute and gone the next. It was a grim reality to space travel and exploration, one Justin apparently understood.

She reaches out and takes his hand, “Deal.”

Chapter Text

“How is Adira doing?”

Silence.

“Tilly told me about this carnivorous flower-looking mushroom that grows on Tetra VI.”

Silence.

Burnham sighs and stops walking, “Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

Paul stops after a few steps and looks at her, “Professionally, yes. In the poorly way you’re trying to start a friendly conversation, no.”

“Are you ever going to let it go? I did what I had to do, and I wouldn’t have had to if you’d done as I said,” she retorts.

His face turns stormy, turns sharply, and he resumes walking. He hears Burnham sigh and trudges after him. Paul would give anything to have someone else accompany him on this brief survey mission. It was to gather samples of mushrooms and fungi that grew on this planet and in this specific region.

Tilly was sick with an ear infection that left her bedridden with vertigo. Adira was ground for lying to Paul about pulling an all-nighter, the fourth this week. Hugh stayed behind to watch over Tilly and ensure Adira rested instead of working behind their backs. And everyone else just happened to have something going on and couldn’t go. Paul was willing to go alone, but Burnham insisted otherwise.

He tilted his head back to the afternoon sun. The temperature was cool since this planet was in the middle of autumn. Leaves of every warm-colored hue carpeted the ground, and the towering trees around them shed even more. Paul could almost picture himself walking through that wooded park in Deneva with Hugh and—

Snap!

“Fuck!” Paul screamed as he fell to the ground, clutching his right leg.

“Paul!” Burnham rushes to his side.

He looks down to see a sharp-toothed bear trap-like device clamped around his ankle. The teeth pierce through the fabric of his pants and boot, and he can feel blood seeping through. He sinks his nails into his knee to try and mitigate some of the throbbing agony.

“Shit, hold still,” Burnham advises. “I think I might have to pry it open.”

“Fine, just get it off,” Paul bites out.

She works her fingers into the spaces between teeth and pulls the jaws apart. The trap is strong, and she struggles to wrench it far enough for Paul to remove his foot. Her limbs shake with effort, and she lets go before her arms give out and loses a few fingers. Unfortunately, that results in the trap snapping around Paul again.

He cries out when it happens and then accuses, “You did that on purpose!”

“I did not!”

He grips his leg and fights not to pass out. This might be more painful than when he had shrapnel lodged in his chest. Sadly, Hugh isn’t here this time to take care of him.

“Burnham to Discovery, two to beam up.”

Static.

Paul’s heart sinks, and he groans, pressing his head to the ground, “Please don’t tell me the geography or geology of this place screws with comm signals.”

He was certain he hadn’t read anything like that in the survey report, but that detail could’ve been missed.

“I don’t know,” Burnham sighs. “I don’t think it should; maybe we’re in a dead zone or something?”

Either way, they were stuck here for God knows how long. Paul did not fancy the idea of lying on the ground with a bear trap around his ankle. But they might need to take shelter if night fell before Discovery came for them. Or worse, whoever put this trap here in the first place might come back. The locals were friendly enough, but that didn’t mean all of them were.

Paul lifts his head and sees Burnham digging in her bag. She pulls out a phaser.

“You’re not going to shoot off my foot, are you?” He honestly wouldn’t put it past her.

“What? No,” she sounded offended. “Booker taught me how to recalibrate a phaser to act as a fine stream laser to cut through something. So I’ll make the adjustments, cut off the hinges of the trap and pull the pieces off.”

She finishes and angles the phaser at the trap. Paul tenses, preparing for added pain. But, to his relief and surprise, Burnham’s plan works, and she cuts apart the hinges. She pulls the jaws off his ankle, and he inhales sharply through gritted teeth. His pant leg is already sticky with blood, and he can feel the inside of his boot is soaked.

Burnham pulls out a hypo from the small first-aid kit. She reaches over to his neck with it, and he bats her hand away.

“It’s just a painkiller, something I think even you wouldn’t be stubborn enough to refuse right now.”

He snorts, “Yeah, like I’m letting you anywhere near my neck again. Just let me do it.”

Paul can tell she wants to protest but relents and hands the medication to him. He presses it to his neck and feels pain ebb to a tolerable level. Then, slowly, he sits up and removes his boot to assess the damage. Blood oozes from the punctures, his skin is mottled with violet bruises, and he’s near-certain a bone or two is broken.

Burnham hands him rolls of gauze and elastic bandage. He wraps the gauze first, then the bandage the way his grandfather taught him. Satisfied, he pulls his boot back on with a grimace. The painkiller worked, but it didn’t completely dull the pain. Burnham offered her a hand to help him up, but Paul managed without her aid.

He lightly puts weight on his foot and nearly topples over. Pain bursts, and he hisses, “Fuck.”

She seizes a thick, long stick from the ground and hands it to him, “Here. Should work as a walking stick.”

The stick helps keep Paul from falling over, though he limped more than walked.

“Great,” she said, “now we’ll need to find a place we can contact Discovery and make camp if we need to.”

Paul slung his bag over his shoulder, “We still need to get those samples.”

Burnham gave him a look that said, ‘seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about?’ Paul matches that with a dry glare. They stare each other down until Burnham sighs roughly and looks away.

“Fine, we make camp first, then I’ll get the samples.”

Pride dictated that Paul argue back and insist he could do it himself. However, common sense made him bite his tongue since he knew he was in no condition to go forging. So he grudgingly followed her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Paul shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot. He leaned back against his bag, and his leg was propped up on a low boulder. The painkiller was wearing off, and the increasing discomfort was wearing on him. The fire to his left cast shadows and warmth with its dancing flames. Night had fallen quickly, and Burnham had yet to return from getting the samples.

The bushes rustled, and Paul snapped upright, his hand darting to the phaser in his bag. Burnham yanked herself free from the foliage. She plucks off a few thistles and hands Paul the container from her shoulder.

“Here, satisfied?” She asks and sits on the other side of the fire.

He peeks inside and sees she got some (he’d begrudgingly admit) good samples. Healthy, full grown, and some sporelings. Perhaps he could try growing some of his own and….

“They’re passable,” he says neutrally.

She snorts and stokes the fire. Paul sets the container down and tries to get comfortable. God, what he’d give to have Hugh here. If Paul could just lean against him instead of a lumpy backpack and hard ground… to feel his arms around him and—

“Where did you learn how to wrap an injury?” Burnham asks, “Did Hugh teach you?”

Paul tampers down his annoyance at having his daydream interrupted.

“No, my grandfather taught me.” She looks at him with interest, and he decides to throw her a bone. “He was a bit of an outdoorsman. He knew a lot about wilderness survival and taught me a few things.”

A memory comes to him, and he chuckles.

“What is it?” She asks.

He smiles and waves his hand, “Nothing, I just… I remember the first time I had to use what he taught me. It was during my fourth year at the Academy. Justin and I were paired up for an expedition-like exercise through some forest.

“Justin got his foot tangled in thick tree roots and twisted his ankle pretty bad. I wrapped it up, but he still had to lean on me to walk. We bitched at each other the whole time. Eventually, we finished the exercise and met up with the rest of the class.”

That day he learned that Justin could give as good as he got. They hadn’t interacted much outside or even in class beforehand. Paul preferred to study solo and saw lab partners or teammates as a hindrance. No one could keep pace with his mind or tolerate his abrasive nature. But Justin… he was smart and certainly a smartass. He seemed to enjoy Paul’s blunt behavior, and Paul enjoyed the verbal sparring.

“Do you miss him?” Burnham asked quietly.

The fondness from the memories gave way to reality. He looked up at the stars, “Of course I do. He was my friend.”

For a moment, it was like things were back to how they were before Osyraa. A flash of hurt stole across her face, and he pretended not to see it. Silence hung over them. Paul suddenly felt tired and didn’t want to converse anymore. He shuffled to lay on his side with his back to the fire.

“I’m… going to try to sleep; good night, Burnham.”

“Good night, Paul,” she said softly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once aboard Discovery, Hugh wasted no time in getting Paul into medbay and on a biobed. Paul would take whatever lecture his dear doctor doled out so long as he could lay down and have proper painkillers.

“I’ll have you know it was an accident,” Paul said dryly, lifting his head to look at Hugh.

Hugh smiled, “I know; not even you are oblivious enough to step into a bear trap if it was in plain sight.”

He pressed his head back down and took a moment to briefly card his fingers through Paul’s hair. Hugh stripped off the bandages, cleaned away the blood, and set his foot under an osetoregen.

“Is Tilly okay?” Paul asked. He could glimpse the redhead sleeping a few beds down if he leaned far enough.

“She’s doing better. I gave her another dose of antibiotics and antinausea medication, which made her pretty sleepy. I think she should be well enough to work after another day of rest.”

“And Adira?”

Hugh helps Paul sit up a little and tucks a pillow behind him. “They slept for ten hours. Reno and I are having them work half-shifts until they can prove they won’t overwork themselves again.”

“Good, that’s a habit I don’t want them or Tilly to pick up from me, which took me years to break.”

Hugh takes Paul’s hand in his own and kisses his knuckles. “Oh, believe me, I know.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, head tilted as he gently studies Paul. “Something else on your mind?”

It takes a moment for Paul to find the right words, but he does. “During the mission, there was a moment where Burnham and I were almost friends again, and I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Did it feel good or..?”

“It felt good for a second, but then I remembered why we’re not friends. I felt angry with myself for forgetting and acting like what she did didn’t matter. And,” Paul sighs and falls back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m never going to get over this, am I?”

Hugh gently strokes Paul’s hand, “It’s not about getting over as working through. You can forgive her and be friends again if it feels right to you. But that doesn’t mean you should forget how she hurt you. You’ll need to find a balance between the two, and that will come with time.”

“I feel like a jerk for not doing it already, but it feels like giving her a free pass if I do.”

Hugh reaches up and cradles Paul’s cheek. Paul leans against his touch and nuzzles his palm. “Forgiveness really is more for you than it is for her. Knowing that is what helped me forgive Tyler. It is a hard concept to wrap your head around, I know. But one day you will; just be gentle and patient with yourself until then.”

Chapter Text

The meeting lasted longer than Hugh would’ve liked, but he understood why. He was glad that Paul could sit for the whole thing. Hugh opted to stand, suspecting that if he sat down, he wouldn’t be able to get back up due to exhaustion. With repair plans, crew rotations, and a destination set, Saru dismissed everyone for the evening.

Hugh doesn’t miss how Paul stands slowly or the quick grimace that steals across his face. They leave the ready room and down the hall before Paul pauses and leans against the wall. Hugh immediately grabs Paul’s arm to support him and pulls out his tricorder.

Paul forces himself to straighten up and waves Hugh off, “I’m fine, Hugh, just tired. Today’s been… it’s been a lot.”

It’s a gross understatement, but Hugh gets what he’s saying. Today has been emotionally and physically draining. Paul had barely gone through three cycles in the regen chamber, but his wounds were healed enough that Hugh didn’t have to make him do more. Paul’s body could heal the rest, though he’d feel exhausted.

Hugh pockets his tricorder, “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your quarters.”

He lightly rests his hand on the small of Paul’s back and notes how comfortable his hand feels there. Paul doesn’t stiffen or move away from his touch, either too tired or… he doesn’t mind?

Let’s not jump the gun, Hugh cautions himself. While he is certain about his love for Paul and wants to try having a relationship again, he doesn’t know what Paul feels or wants.

They enter his quarters, and Hugh is strangely surprised to see everything still looks the same. The only visible difference was that Hugh’s few belongings were still in their boxes in his current quarters.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks.

Paul has his arms coiled around himself, and his shoulders are hunched. It’s a posture Hugh is familiar with and usually means Paul is hurting emotionally.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep; you can go,” Paul says. He tries to smile, but it’s broken and weak.

Hugh steps closer and rests his hand on Paul’s upper arm. Paul ducks his head, avoiding Hugh’s gaze, confirming Hugh’s worry that something is wrong.

“Hey, what is it?”

Paul rubs his eyes with one hand, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Hugh doesn’t buy that. “Paul….”

“Hugh, don’t. I’m fine,” he says in a clipped tone.

The doctor inches closer and speaks gently, “With all due respect, I don’t think you are.”

Paul takes a sharp step back, “Can you please not do this?”

“Do what?”

Paul looks close to tears, and Hugh wonders what he did. Earlier, Paul seemed so happy to him, and now…. Had Hugh been wrong? Did Paul really want to move on and away from him?

“Caring about how I feel. But I,” his voice is thick, and he swallows. “I can’t handle that right now, and I don’t know what you want. I don’t know if you’re going to stay or go, and I don’t want to get my hopes up if you’re only going to leave. I can’t cope with you walking away like that again…or us fighting.”

His voice is small and scared, and it breaks Hugh’s heart. “So please stop because it hurts.”

I did this, Hugh thinks with despair. I hurt him and made him feel like this. Granted, neither of them was in a good place after Hugh returned. He struggled to find himself again, and Paul had yet to finish processing his grief. He could’ve asked for space without lashing out or cutting Paul out of his life, however briefly.

Slowly, Hugh steps nearer and gently lay his hands on Paul’s upper arms. Paul minutely tenses as if preparing for a blow. Hugh hates that he’s the reason Paul is anxious. He chides himself for naively thinking Paul would take him back with immediate forgiveness.

“Hey,” Hugh murmurs. Paul doesn’t look up, but he can tell he’s listening. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. You were only trying to help, and I took my anger and confusion out on you.”

Paul shakes his head, “It wasn’t your fault. I should’ve… listened to you and—"

Hugh gently cups his jaw, “Yes, it was. We both could have done better, and while we can’t change what happened, we can learn from it.”

With great care, Hugh draws him in for a hug. Paul doesn’t move, but neither does he push Hugh away. Paul starts to shiver, and Hugh can hear his breathing hitch. Slowly, Paul wraps one arm, then the other around Hugh, tightly gripping the back of his uniform. He feels his collar becoming damp with tears.

“I missed you so much,” Paul whispered.

Hugh held him tighter and pressed a kiss to his hair, “I missed you too.”

“And you… still want me?”

“More than anything,” Hugh replies with certainty. “Do you still want me? Us, again?”

Paul nodded, his face still buried in the crook of Hugh’s neck. A tightness coiled around his heart loosened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He’s content to stay like this, holding each other, but notices Paul leaning more of his weight against him.

“Tired, love?” The endearment slipped past his tongue so easily and felt so good.

Paul nods again and gives a shuddering inhale. He steps back, and Hugh is reluctant to let him go, even for a few inches. Tears still crawl down his cheeks, and Paul swipes them away, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The doctor smiles gently and reaches up to brush away a stray tear. “Hey, it’s okay. You were right; today has been a lot. What we need now is a chance to calm down and rest.”

“Yeah,” Paul glances at the bed and then at Hugh. “I guess you’ll want to be heading back to your place.”

Hugh nibbles his lip and asks, “Would it be alright if I stayed here with you just for tonight?”

It wasn’t logical, but Hugh felt uncomfortable having Paul out of his sight so soon. He knew Paul was physically fine, though memories of shrapnel, blood, and stuttering heartbeat were still too fresh. Paul’s cheeks pinken, and Hugh wonders if he asked for too much.

Paul clears his throat, “No, that’s… that’s okay. I, uh I can take the couch and—”

Hugh sets his hand on his chest to stop him from moving, “Oh no, you don’t. You’re still healing; you take the bed.”

“We… both could take it—the bed, I mean. It’s big enough for the both of us,” Paul suggests. He blushes in embarrassment and backpedals, “I’m sorry, no that… that was too much I shouldn’t have—"

“Hey,” Hugh cuts him off gently. “Are you sure? You’d be okay with that?”

He really hopes Paul is. Hugh doesn’t want to damage this new connection building between them. However, he’d love to have Paul close to him again. To feel his heart steadily beat against his, solid proof that Paul is alive.

Paul nods, eyes downcast, “Please.”

Hugh carefully cups his jaw and guides his head up until Paul looks at him. Sweet blue eyes that he missed gazing into and knowing exactly what Paul was thinking or feeling. Wary hope, deep longing, and profound love are clear for him to see. None of it makes him uncomfortable; instead, it draws him closer.

He rests his forehead against his and nods, “Okay.”

They’re both too tired to shower or even change clothes, so they merely remove their shoes and jackets. Climbing under the sheets feels oddly too intimate for them both right now. So, Hugh grabs a pair of blankets off the couch, and they lay on top of the covers. He tucks both blankets around Paul, lying on his uninjured side, facing the middle of the bed. Hugh tucks himself in next and mirrors his position.

Without thinking, they wrap their arms around each other. Hugh feels all the tension from the day seep out of his body just like it used to when Paul held him. Speaking of whom had already dropped off into a deep sleep, his face nestled against Hugh’s chest. He softly strokes Paul’s hair and revels in being able to do this simple action. Hugh knows they have work to do if they want to be together again. They won’t be starting completely from scratch, but more like up from an established foundation. Their love and respect they have for each other are still there and despite how they’ve changed Hugh feels certain they can make it work.

Chapter Text

Paul knows he should be asleep, especially after a trying day. But his mind wouldn’t stop running, and Paul had learned long ago that genius minds never stopped working. He lies still in Hugh’s arms, afraid if he moves, this blissful moment will shatter.

You’re so pathetic. He apologizes once, and you immediately take him back like he didn’t carve your heart out.

Paul screws his eyes shut. Stop it.

You’re so lonely and desperate for love that you’ll take it from a stranger that looks like Hugh.

He shakes his head; no, this is Hugh. He wants me and….

Who would ever want you? Hugh walked away from you once; what’s stopping him from doing it again? You are such a poor, worthless partner. Hugh will get fed up with you again and leave. Neither of you is the same, and he’ll realize he can do, deserves, better.

No, no, stop. It’s not true… it’s not…. Paul must make some noise because Hugh stirs.

“Wha’s wrong, love?” Hugh asks, sleep slurring his words.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” but Paul can hear the tremor in his voice, and he knows Hugh can too.

The doctor sits up slightly, “Are you sure? Are you in pain? I can get—”

“No,” Paul grabs Hugh, suddenly terrified of being separated. “It’s not that. It’s….”

Hugh settles back under the blankets and pulls Paul snuggly against him. He doesn’t press Paul to explain, and again Paul is grateful for his seemingly infinite patience.

“Did you mean when you said you still wanted me? And you wanted a relationship again?” Paul feels foolish for asking since Hugh just told him that he did hours ago.

If Hugh is annoyed about repeating himself, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he strokes Paul’s hair and says, “Yes, I meant it. I want you, and I want to try being with you again.”

Paul sighs and shakes his head, “I’m sorry I’m being stupid and—”

He can hear the understanding smile in Hugh’s voice, “You can be reckless and stubborn, yes, but not stupid. What brought this on?”

“I can’t sleep. I keep thinking and… worrying about us and… if you really want to stay with me.”

Paul remembers a similar conversation early in their relationship when it became apparent that Hugh really did want to be Paul. It had baffled the scientist, but Hugh patiently explained and proved how much Paul and their relationship mattered to him.

“I knew what I was signing up for the first time I started dating you, and I will happily do it again.”

Paul sighs, “We’ve both changed, Hugh.”

“Yes, we have,” he agrees and gently lays a hand on Paul’s cheek. “But the core of who we are, the parts that attracted us to each other, are still there. In the emotional upheaval I was going through, I still loved you even when I couldn’t see it yet.”

Hugh wants to be here. He wants me. He loves me. Paul uses that mantra to silence his earlier negative, unfounded thoughts. He uncurls his arm and wraps it around Hugh’s waist, marveling at how well the crook of his arm fits neatly against the curve of his body. Hugh sighs with contentment and kisses his forehead.

“We can—” Hugh is cut off by a yawn, “talk more in the morning, okay?”

“Okay, I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s fine; I’d rather you wake me than stay up all night worrying.”

Paul nods and says softly, “I love you.”

Hugh smiles against Paul’s hair, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

If Paul is being honest, and always endeavors to be, he could sense something was off with Hugh but brushed it aside. Hugh would smile that heart-stopping smile and reassure Paul that he was fine.

(The smile was a little too tight, too forced. A little too quick to deviate Paul’s attention away from him.)

Hugh felt tense, even in bed, and nestled in each other’s arms. A constant underlying tension that no amount of gentle massaging could dispel.

(The tension is born from worry, rumination, and fear. A kind of tension Paul is all too familiar with feeling himself.)

His dear doctor rushes from appointment to appointment like a busy bee. Their crew numbers less than a hundred, but they all need help adjusting to their new reality.

(Exhaustion clouds Hugh’s eyes when he thinks no one is looking. But when they are, he perks up and smiles warmly at them like he’s not tired at all.)

Paul is sitting on the couch in their quarters, PADD in hand, reading Tilly’s theories and experiment ideas on dark matter. Hugh isn’t home yet, but Paul knows sometimes his appointments run late. He chuckles at the irony of now being the one to wait up. Paul can only hope Hugh doesn’t take a page from his book and become so entrenched in work that he never comes home.

His mind lingers more on his partner than the data before him. Hugh has been pushing himself more and more lately. He always strove above and beyond when it came to helping people, but now it’s… it’s almost become compulsive (or worse obsessive) for him.

Paul drops his musings when Hugh walks through the door, and Paul sees the look on his face. Shock, devastation, and confusion are clear to see. Paul immediately drops his PADD and walks over to him.

“Hugh? Hey, what’s wrong?” Paul asks gently.

Hugh blinks as if suddenly aware that he is home now and not medbay or his office. He shakes his head and smiles at Paul, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

The smile is fake and hollow. Alright, enough pretending. Paul slowly wraps one arm around Hugh’s back and takes both of the doctor’s hands, holding them against his chest.

“I don’t think you are. You’re distracted, tense, and have thrown yourself head first into helping the crew. I know helping people is who you are, and it’s one of the many things I love about you. But you need to take time for yourself. Don’t run yourself ragged like I did.”

Something he said seemed to break through Hugh’s defenses. He rests his head on Paul’s shoulder, and he can feel some tension leave his body.

“Rough day?” Paul guessed.

Hugh nods.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Head shake.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality sort of thing?”

“Kind of,” Hugh murmurs.

A few beats of silence pass, and Paul is content to wait. He holds Hugh and gently rubs his back, hoping this will comfort him.

Hugh’s voice is so quiet Paul strains his ears to hear. “Ensign Shar committed suicide last night. I found out an hour ago.”

Paul knew the loss of life bothered Hugh, whether he knew them personally or not. His compassion and strength to remain in a profession where death was common amazed Paul.

He tightened his hold on Hugh, “I’m so sorry.”

“I talked to him two days ago, and he…” Suddenly Hugh was out of Paul’s grasp and pacing. “He was happy, and I thought… I thought he was doing better. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve known something was wrong. He was so depressed, then suddenly he wasn’t, and I actually thought he was improving. I am so stupid! How did I not see it?”

Paul stepped back to give Hugh more room to pace. It was rare for him to rant, though it did happen. The best option was to let him get it out of his system before approaching him again.

Hugh grips his hair and presses his palms to his eyes. “I’m so stupid. How did I ever think I could do this? I’m a doctor, not a counselor! I barely know what I’m doing, but everyone’s counting on me to help them. I can’t… I can’t fail. I have to be perfect. I have to.”

His pacing slows to a stop, and his hands drop. He looks more exhausted and wearier than Paul has ever seen him. He weakly twines his arms around his middle.

Everything starts to click into place and Paul almost facepalms. It’s obvious now, and Paul’s kicking himself for not recognizing the signs. He saw them whenever he looked in the mirror or was alone too long with his thoughts. He and Hugh were both perfectionists, but Hugh had a much healthier grasp of his. Now, though, something has triggered Hugh and caused him to spiral into the dark, harmful side of perfectionism.

Paul cautiously approaches him and touches his arm. Hugh seems to curl into himself more and looks away.

“Why?” Paul quietly questions. “Why do you feel you have to be perfect?”

He can see the internal struggle on Hugh’s face, and Paul waits to see which side wins.

Hugh sadly shrugs, “If I’m not, then… what’s the point in me being alive again? I have to make the most of this chance, and helping people is the only way I can. I have to be perfect for my patients, the crew, and… you.”

Paul feels his heart ache for him, and he kicks himself again for not noticing sooner. He reaches up and cradles Hugh’s cheek; to his relief, Hugh leans into his touch.

“You have always been perfect to me, Hugh, just by being who you are.”

That doesn’t ease Hugh’s guilt like Paul hoped. Instead, Hugh glances to the side, “I hurt you… so much after I came back and… I need… want to make it up to you.”

It’s a conversation they’ve had on and off since their first night together. Paul understands the guilt since he felt the same about his own actions and negligence to Hugh’s needs. They’ve talked it over and forgiven each other, but Paul knows that doesn’t make all the guilt vanish.

“You are making it up to me by being here, talking to me,” he rests his forehead against Hugh’s, “and loving me. You’ve done so much for this crew and cared for so many people. Let me take care of you. What do you need?”

Paul knows this goes against Hugh’s caregiver nature and hopes he chooses to focus on his own needs for once.

“I… I need you,” Hugh says softly. “I need to be held and not think or worry about anyone else just for one minute.”

Paul nods: he can do that. “Okay, couch or bed?”

Hugh doesn’t hesitate, “Bed.”

He has Hugh sit on the bed and removes his jacket and boots for him. Hugh gives him a tired, amused smile.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Paul shrugs, “I know, but I like to. You get comfy, I’ll be right back.”

Hugh does as he’s told, and Paul returns carrying his weighted blanket, a large, quilted object that helped through many sleepless nights. He shook it out and draped it over Hugh and himself when snuggled up beside Hugh. Legs and arms intertwine, and Paul tucks Hugh’s head under his chin. Paul strokes Hugh’s back slow and soothing. Hugh breathes a shuddering exhale, and Paul feels tension seep out of Hugh.

Paul waits, listening to their breathing falling into sync and the soft hum of the ship. He mulls over the best way to say this.

“Hugh?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re both perfectionists and… I think perfection is what you make of it. Like different people have different ideas of what perfection is, right? You think Kasselian opera is perfect, but I certainly don’t. That doesn’t mean either of us is right or wrong, just different.”

Hugh idly traces patterns on Paul’s chest. “I guess so. I still feel like I have to… to make this life count. I owe it to the universe or fate or whatever.”

Paul kisses his head, “Hugh, you don’t owe anyone anything. You are making this life count just by living and being who you are.”

“I hope you’re right,” Hugh whispers.

He doesn’t sound convinced, and Paul feels this will be another conversation they’ll revisit. For now, though, he gives Hugh what he asked for, to be held and kept safe from the demands outside their quarters.

Chapter Text

Paul has his coffee mug halfway to his lips when there is a knock at the door. He sighs at the interruption. Hugh is still in the bathroom, so Paul sets his mug down to answer it. An alien ( a Ferengi, if he’s right) stands there in a crisp uniform and a gray box at his feet.

“Commander Stamets?” He asks.

“Uh, yes? Can I help you?”

He hands Paul a PADD, “Sign here, please.”

Paul scans the screen and sees the package is from Booker. Contact with him has been limited and heavily monitored while he was doing community service for his crimes with Tarka. He signs the PADD and hands it back to the diminutive being. The Ferengi takes the PADD and hands Paul the gray box.

He tips his head before leaving, “Have a nice day.”

Paul quizzically looks down at the box now in his arms. It’s not particularly heavy, and there are large holes along the top half. He sets it on the table and finds the latches, popping them open. He pulls the top lid off, and his eyes widen.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh finished brushing his teeth when he heard Paul squeal.

“You are adorable!”

Confused (and slightly alarmed since he’s rarely heard Paul sound like that), he steps out into their quarters. Paul is holding a squirming tan and brown kitten to his chest. He’s grinning and kissing the mewling creature.

“Where did you get that?” Hugh asks, dumbfounded at how Paul could’ve possibly gotten the animal.

“From Booker,” Paul says simply.

Hugh peeks into the box and pulls out a small card. “Paul, sorry we’ll be missing your birthday, but I hope this makes up for it. I found her while relocating a colony, no mum or owner. I’m sure you’ll give her all the love and care she needs. Take care, Booker and Grudge.”

Paul is scratching her back as she tries to clamber up his shoulder. “Can we keep her? It’d be rude to return a gift.”

Hugh sighs and smiles, “That is true.”

He reaches out to pet her, fur downy soft beneath his fingers. She curls her tiny paw around his fingers and pulls his hand closer. She sniffs him over and rubs her head against his hand, purring.

“See? She likes you.”

Hugh chuckles and scratches her head, “What will you name her?”

Paul hums thoughtfully and turns the kitten around to look her in the eyes. They’re a brilliant blue set in a dark brown face.

“She looks like a Mocha to me.”

“Really? I thought you’d name her Stella,” Hugh jokes.

“That was my second choice.” He then coos to the kitten, “What do you think, Mocha? You like your name?”

She meows, and Paul takes that as an affirmative.

“Good girl, now are you hungry? I bet you are. We’ll get you some yummy food, and you’ll need a litterbox and some toys. Oh, and you’ll need a scratching post. I’m sure we can make room here for a cat tree.”

Hugh shakes his head, smiling. I think we just adopted another child. Adira and Tilly might have competition now.

Chapter Text

Paul was about to fall asleep when a thought hit him. He propped himself up on one arm, jostling Mocha from her spot on his pillow.

“Hugh?”

His partner didn’t open his eyes, “What, dear?”

“We get to celebrate Christmas this year.”

Hugh still didn’t open his eyes, but his brows knitted in confusion. “We always celebrate Christmas.”

The last two Christmases, though, hadn’t exactly been merry. The first was right after Hugh died, and they were stuck in the Mirrorverse. The last when things were still awkward between them after Hugh came back.

“I know, but this time we get to, you know, spend it with the kids.” Paul said tentatively, like if he spoke too loudly, he’d jinx the joy and love he had now.

Hugh opens one eye and gives him a tired, wry smile. “You can say it, sweetheart.”

“Our kids,” saying that made him smile. Hugh smiled, too, and pulled Paul close to him. “Do you think Adira and Gray have ever celebrated Christmas? We could decorate a tree, make cookies, and have a nice dinner.”

“We can—” Hugh paused to yawn. “We can see if Gray and Tilly can visit and do all that.”

Paul grinned and snuggled closer to Hugh, already thinking about everything he wanted to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“…and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled…” Paul hummed under his breath.

He took a shortcut through the lounge from the mess hall carrying a platter of freshly fried latkes in stasis. The mess hall had a small kitchen for people who preferred to cook by hand. Replicated food worked in a pinch, but Paul wanted to go all out for the kids. He hadn’t planned on making them until Hugh mentioned it, and the way their faces lit up… well, how could Paul have said no?

The lounge was depressingly empty, and he supposed many people were on leave for the holidays. He hummed merrily to himself when something made him stop.

Burnham was sitting alone at a table, listlessly stirring her drink. She looks… sad and lonely. Doesn’t she have anyone to spend the holidays with? Booker was still doing community service, and Saru was on Ni’Var for leave. Paul shook his head. Why do you care? You’re not friends anymore.

But something kept him rooted to the spot. Maybe it was the forlorn look on her face, something Paul was familiar with seeing in the mirror. You know how painful it is to be alone during the holidays. Paul sighs and cringes, knowing what he should do. Damn it.

He approaches the table, “What are you doing here alone?”

She shrugs and stares at her drink, “I wanted a drink and be by myself for a while.”

Paul sees straight through that and snorts. “Yeah, if you wanted to be alone, you’d be drinking in your quarters or ready room, not out here that usually has a lot of people.”

Burnham sighs, tired and irritated, “What do you want?”

“Hugh and I have the kids over for dinner, Adira invited Reno, and Hugh is bringing Tracy. Look, dinner is in an hour, so if you want to come.…” Paul finishes with an awkward shrug.

She looks at him with utter bewilderment, “Are you… inviting me to dinner?”

Things between them are still uneasy and brittle. He feels wary of her and doesn’t trust her like before. However, it’s the holidays and goodwill towards men (or women), right? Hugh also taught him the importance of extending compassion to others.

“Yes, and again if you want to come.”

She mulls this over and then notices the platter in his hand. “Are those latkes?”

“You know what these are?” Not many people knew about Jewish cuisine.

“My foster mother Amanda was Jewish, so we all celebrated Hanukkah. She was willing to celebrate Christmas for me, but after my parents died, I… it was too much.”

Paul didn’t know that. “My paternal grandparents are or were Jewish. We only celebrated when we visited them; otherwise, it was just Christmas. I could replicate some sufganiyot or chocolate babka; been a long time since I’ve had those.”

Burnham looks more tempted, “An hour, you said?”

Paul nods and leaves her be. Why did I do that? He’d been so excited to have everyone over, and celebrate and now? Justin warned me I had a self-sabotaging habit. I guess he was right.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner is almost ready, and Paul wonders if Burnham will actually show. Hugh was surprised when Paul told him but happy with his decision. They’re all dressed in nice, casual clothes. It’s odd seeing everyone out of uniform, but they all looked cozy and comfortable. Hugh wore a white button-up with an evergreen sweater, and Paul swears the man can look sexy in anything. Paul would have his hands all over Hugh if they didn’t have company.

The extra people didn’t stop Hugh, though. Paul wore a simple maroon sweater, and Hugh took every chance to lightly touch or kiss him. Paul sets the table, and Hugh slips his hands below Paul’s waist.

“Hugh,” he hisses, cheeks flushing. Hugh only looks at him with a mischievous smile.

Paul shoots a panicked glance at their guests, but everyone is busy talking in the living room. Mocha slithers and jumps between laps, receiving pets as she passes. The conversation stops, though, with a knock at the door.

“Commander, Doctor, Captain Burnham is at your door,” Zora informed.

Five pairs of eyes jump to Paul, and Hugh rests a supportive hand on Paul’s lower back. He leans against the touch and uses it to soothe his nervousness.

“You can let her in, Zora.”

The captain tentatively steps inside, having traded her uniform for a red blouse and black trousers. The air shifts from warm camaraderie to watchful trepidation. It’s almost heartwarming to Paul how everyone here is prepared to jump to defend him.

“You can come in, Burnham; dinner’s ready.”

That put everyone at ease, and they gathered at the table. They sat two on each side, with Hugh on Paul’s right and Adira on his left. Chatter and food passed smoothly between everyone. Under the table, Paul tightly held Hugh’s hand, and Hugh gently stroked him with his thumb. You’re safe. Everything’s okay; you’re doing great.

Once dinner was finished and the table cleared, their guests retired to the living room. Later, Paul goes to the kitchenette to bring out dessert. He did promise chocolate babka, and there were the Christmas cookies made earlier. While cutting the bread, Hugh wraps his arms around Paul from behind, placing soft kisses along his neck.

“You are insatiable tonight,” Paul observes.

Hugh sweetly kisses his cheek, “I can’t help it if you look so delicious.”

The scientist rolls his eyes despite the pleased flush on his face.

“And I’m proud of you.”

Now Paul looks at him with confusion, and Hugh smiles warmly. “I know things between you and Michael aren’t great, but you’re trying. You didn’t have to invite her, yet you did, and I think you both had a good time.”

Paul relaxes against Hugh and pauses in cutting the bread. He says quietly, “It’s still hard to forgive her, and I don’t know about us being friends again. However, I think I’m done feeling angry and hurt about what she did. It’s tiring and not fair… to either of us.”

Hugh gently turns his head to properly kiss him. “And that is why I’m proud of you.”

They kissed again when Reno called, “Stamets, are you bringing that fancy bread out or not? I’m starving over here.”

Hugh chuckles, and Paul huffs, “You had two helpings of food; you’re fine.”

The doctor grabs a tray with mugs of coffee and hot chocolate. Then, he says quietly, “I’ll give you your Christmas gift early once everyone leaves.”

Paul made sure Mocha went home with Gary and Adira. If he had the right inkling about what kind of gift Hugh had in mind, it’d be best they weren’t interrupted.

Chapter Text

The evening is quiet, and Paul is busy filling out reports, waiting for Hugh to come home from his shift. Paul enjoyed the silence, but it was becoming too much, so he opened his tricomm to find music to play. He opened a list of composers from the 23rd century and skimmed until one name caught his eye.

Chelsea Kenner

His sister. Paul tapped her name, and an array of songs appeared, from oldest to newest. Chelsea was a musicologist, but she did compose on the side. I guess she decided to be a full-time composer. Paul had yet to look into what became of his family members. Seeing their dates of death would make everything feel real and irreversible. Until he did, Paul could pretend they were still alive and keep the suffocating grief at bay a little longer.

He wasn’t sure which song to pick, so he tapped her bio instead.

Chelsea Grace Kenner nee Stamets (15 July 2211—26 August 2297) was a human composer from Earth. She began composing music in 2260 and wrote seventeen symphonies, eight film scores, five musicals, and twenty-four original songs. She retired from composing in 2288 and taught music at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music until her death in 2297.

Kenner claimed her symphony Together in the Stars (2266) as her magnum opus. However, critics argue that while it is one of her finer works, she considers it such due to sentiment. She wrote it in memory of her late brother Paul Stamets, whom she was close with, and his partner Hugh Culber. The two men were Starfleet officers who died in the line of duty in 2258.

Paul ignores the rest of the biography and finds the song. His finger hovers over the title and wonders if he’s opening Pandora’s box by listening to it. Paul remembered sitting in her room while she wrote music and toyed with her keyboard. Sometimes, she’d play melodies made up on the spot and have Paul sing lyrics to them like a musical improv.

Before Justin and later Hugh, Chelsea was the only person who understood Paul. During their formative years, all they had was each other. Growing up and going their separate ways hadn’t changed that, which Paul was thankful for.

Just play the song. Chelsea wrote it for you and Hugh anyway. So he taps play and listens.

The opening notes were soft and sweet, a peaceful and innocent symphony. It reminded him of when he and Hugh started dating, the way their love began to grow. Then, the music became happier and more joyful while keeping that soft sweetness. That sounds like the years they had together before everything went sideways.

Then it slowly transitioned to something darker and foreboding, with clashes of cymbals and loud drums. A climactic battle of music that ended with a bang and descended into a melancholic lull. The war and its aftermath and memories of remembered pain make tears prick his eyes. The music becomes deep and mournful, beautiful in a sorrowful way.

The melody changes to one that’s still sad, but with a cautious, hopeful undertone. The latter overcomes the former and almost resumes the same gay tone as the beginning. It sounds more mature, though, not as carefree and innocent. A love that had been battered and beaten by life and death but still came out whole.

Together.

Paul is so absorbed by the song he doesn’t notice Hugh come in. Hugh touches his shoulder, and Paul jumps, startled.

“What’s wrong, love?” Hugh asks, sitting down next to him.

Paul sniffs and dries his cheeks, “Nothing, I uh… It’s nothing.”

Hugh warmly strokes his back, “Are you sure?”

He wants to reply, but his throat is constricted with emotion. Tears well up in his eyes, and he rests his head on Hugh’s shoulder, tucking his face in the crook of his neck. Hugh twines his arms around him in a hug and kisses his hair.

“Rough day, sweetheart?”

Paul shakes his head, “Chelsea wrote us a song.”

“Wait, your Chelsea?”

He pulls up the song list and Chelsea’s short biography for Hugh to read. When he finishes, Hugh tightens his arms around Paul. Paul burrows into the embrace savoring Hugh’s love and using it as a buffer against his encroaching grief.

“Oh, love,” Hugh said with understanding.

“Why does it hurt? She… everyone has been dead for… centuries, so why…?”

He places another soft kiss on his head. “We skipped over almost a whole millennium, so to us, this feels recent even if it isn’t.”

Paul nodded, which made sense. With Hugh’s arms around him, he feels safe enough to let his grief run its course. He shivers and cries, and Hugh holds him through it all, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing words. His tears eventually subside, leaving Paul feeling raw and worn.

“Paul?”

“Hmm?”

“Could we listen to the song? Only if you feel up to it, though,” Hugh adds.

Paul nods and taps the song to play it. Hugh lies on the couch and pulls Paul to lie with him, arms still around each other. The music swirls and eddies around them; their story is told through notes and sounds. Written by the one who loved him most for everyone to hear, including them.

Chapter Text

“You have everything you need?” Paul asked, brushing his hands down Tilly’s arms.

Tilly was still a little dazed at the fact that he was up and moving about when hours (minutes?) ago, he had shrapnel sticking out of his chest. She last saw him pale and lifeless on that biobed, and now he was here… and okay and…

“Tilly?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I-I’m okay.”

He looks at her with dry disbelief and sighs in that way when she’s done something to worry or exasperate him. But he doesn’t act like that… more like…

Like my dad when I went on my first field trip. The comparison almost makes her burst out laughing, more from hysteria than actual humor.

He adjusts her scarf, “Remember, listen to Saru and do as he says. Stick close to him and try not to get separated.”

She nods, and he pats down her coat as if checking everything is where it should be on her. He moves slowly, and stiffly and sometimes she catches the flicker of a pained grimace. Did he come down here to make sure I would be okay? The thought was absurd but heartwarming.

He’s talking, but she tunes in only for the last bit, “…just please be safe.”

“You too,” she blurts out. Paul quirks an eyebrow, and she says, “I-I can tell you’re still healing from… that. So if you could please… stay safe too?”

He blinks, taken aback, and then his face softens to mild fondness. “Don’t worry about me; I’m fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll take it slow and not do anything dangerous.”

The reassurance mollified her slightly. You have to focus on the mission. Stamets will be okay. The ship is probably safer than whatever is outside, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tilly makes a beeline for medbay after returning to the ship once she finds out what happened to Paul. Dr. Pollard directs her to the cellular regeneration chamber down the hall. Paul is lying inside the machine, and Hugh is sitting beside him, gently stroking Paul’s hair while they quietly talk.

Tilly takes a moment to feel giddy and tries not to squeal at seeing them finally together. They had been so miserable apart, but now they have a chance to be together and finally be happy.

The giddiness evaporates when she sees a fresh wound on his abdomen and the raw, healing scar on his chest.

Paul lifts his head up, “Tilly?”

“Wh-What did you do?! You told me that you were fine, and you were going to take it slow!”

Hugh chuckles tiredly, “And you believed him?”

Paul sighs, laying his head down, “Why are people making a fuss about me getting hurt?”

“Because we love you,” Hugh punctuates that point with a kiss.

Chapter Text

“If you stop moving, I can get this done faster, and you can sit with Hugh,” Tracy says testily.

Paul’s wiggling was irking her. She wanted a detailed scan of him; the man had been under a neurological lock, for Heaven’s sake! Something like that was unheard of in their time, and Tracy had no idea of the possible repercussions or side effects. Especially for someone with a unique neurological makeup like Paul. She knew Hugh, the worried partner and doctor, would want as much information as possible.

“Can you please hurry up then?” Paul asked.

He craned his neck to see Hugh. Tracy took a quick peek herself over her shoulder. Her friend lay still and sleeping in the bed behind her, the regens humming over him as they healed the radiation damage. She tries not to think about how much worse it could’ve been.

I’m not letting him off this ship any time soon. If he needs to find himself, he can do it here.

Tracy scans him again and detects some deep bruising between his neck and shoulder. She swiftly tugs aside his shirt collar to get a better look. The bruise is starting to color, a large splotch of blue-violet, a sign it was recently inflicted. She recognizes the size and shape too.

“Did one of those bastards give you the Vulcan nerve pinch?”

Paul pales; he looks away in shame with lips pressed tightly together.

“It wasn’t the Chain,” he says quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

“Then who—?” She pauses, the pieces then click together, and she feels sick. “No.”

Paul winds his arms around himself. “Burnham, she… we fought… and she… look, can you please just not tell anyone?”

“Not… Paul, that’s assault. I’m obligated to report it.”

“Please, Tracy,” he begs. Paul tightly grips his hair, pressing his palm to his forehead. “It was my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have reacted that way, and I deserved—”

“No,” Tracy firmly cuts in. She knew Paul had the habit of taking the blame for other people’s actions, whether he was responsible or not. “I don’t care how you reacted. There is nothing that justifies doing that to a fellow officer.”

She can tell Paul doesn’t quite believe her. He lowers his arm and tucks it around himself, looking away.

“Can you please not tell anyone?” He asks again, voice small and almost plaintive.

Tracy was torn between wanting to protect him and doing her duty as a doctor and CMO. If she did as Paul asked, Burnham would walk away thinking her actions were justified and thus acceptable. If she filed a report to command, they might have Burnham and Paul give their accounts of what happened. Paul would be forced to relive what Tracy suspected was a traumatic event.

“Besides, it won’t matter. Burnham saved everyone, so who’s going to care, right? No one would believe she nerve pinched me and blew me out an airlock.…” He trails off, and Tracy’s mind screeches to a halt.

“I’m sorry, she did what now?”

Color suffuses Paul’s cheeks, and he blinks rapidly. “I mean… she had to get me off the ship, and I wouldn’t leave without Hugh and Adira….”

Tracy inhales deeply to temper her anger and holds up her hand to stop Paul’s justifications.

“I don’t care what her reasons were. She still assaulted you. Alright, how about this? I’ll file the report, but I’ll keep your name out of it to preserve your privacy. If Vance or anyone else up there wants more details, they’ll have to contact me, and we can figure out what to do then.”

Paul doesn’t look happy with the compromise, but she won’t relent. Finally, he sighs, and his shoulders fall in defeat.

Tracy feels a twinge of guilt at pushing this on him. She gently touches his arm, “Hey, burying this and pretending it never happened isn’t going to help anybody.”

“I know.”

“I’ll need to take a picture of that bruise, then I’ll heal it, and you can go cuddle Hugh.” Wish I could heal whatever wounds this experience had on you.

She finishes her tasks quickly, this time with Paul remaining still and quiet. Before he hops off the bed, she touches his arm again.

“If you ever want to talk, off the record, friend to friend? I’m here.”

“That might be a while, but thanks.”

Tracy helps arrange him and Hugh on the bed. Hugh is grumpy at being woken up but quickly mollified by Paul’s cuddling. Adira walks in, and she ushers them in to lie on the bed, snuggling up to Paul on his other side. It’s an adorable picture, though if Tilly comes in next, they might have to move to a bigger bed. She draws the curtains closed but leaves a small opening so she can keep an eye on them.

Medbay wasn’t chaotic like it’d been in the aftermath of fighting Control and crash landing in the future. Some minor cleanups and checking over those roughed up by the Chain. She made a note to check on Saru and his new companion and—

Her thoughts stop when Burnham walks in with Booker behind her, carrying Grudge. Oh, hell no. Tracy puts on a front of calm professionalism while turning her anger into something icy and frigid. The chill coalesces in her eyes and laces her words in frost.

“Can I help you, Commander? You’ve already finished your treatment and have been discharged.”

Burnham doesn’t appear to notice Tracy’s clipped tone. Booker inches away from them. Either his empathic senses are warning him of danger, or he’s got good self-preservation instincts.

“I want to talk to Hugh and Paul, too, if he’s here.”

“Do you, now? They are resting, and besides visiting hours are over.”

Burnham blinks in confusion, “Excuse me? If I want to talk to them, then—”

“I am the CMO of this ship.” Tracy snaps with authority, “I do not care what an arrogant officer with a hero complex like you wants. If it’s so damn important, you can take it up with Captain Saru or, hell Admiral Vance, but you will leave those two men alone.”

“That’s uncalled for.”

Tracy steps much closer, “And so was nerve pinching Paul and shoving him out an airlock.”

The other woman looks briefly taken aback before straightens up defensively, “I did what I had to do.”

“I’m sure you did. And leaving Hugh and Adira to die? Were you planning on doing that too?”

Burnham pauses before answering, and it’s enough for Tracy. “No, I’d never—”

“Leave. You are not sick or hurt. You have no business here, so leave.”

Tracy pins her with a stony glare the one reserved for those who’ve tried the last of her patience. Burnham sharply turns on her feet and leaves.

“What was that about?” Booker cautiously asks.

“If you want to know, go ask your girlfriend. Now, what do you want?”

The man holds up Grudge like a peace offering. “She’s still limping a bit on her paw; thought maybe you could take another look at it?”

Tracy’s expression scarcely changes, but she holds out her hands for the cat. She had a large spot in her heart for soft, fluffy animals. He hands Grudge over, and she rests the docile feline against her shoulder. Tracy pets her, and Grudge's soothing purrs ease her earlier anger.

*~*~*

Later, Tracy will learn Vance did read her report and still promotes Burnham. Tracy can only shake her head and has Hugh go in her stead to the promotion ceremony.

Chapter Text

Paul was having a tolerable day. The conference was going well enough; he managed the presentation and talked with other attendees without making a fool of himself. He needed a break, though, and decent coffee. Few hotels Paul ever visited had good coffee, including this one. So he sought a nearby café and hunkered down with his notes and a delicious caramel macchiato.

His notes weren’t enough to keep his attention, and his mind wandered to Noah, his now ex-boyfriend. Paul’s heart was still smarting after almost a month of being dumped. Noah had been the best Paul had ever had: kind, smart (enough), and funny. Paul sighs; what had he done wrong? He made sure to spend equal time with Noah as he did with his work. (His boyfriend before that accused Paul of being a workaholic and left him.) Things had been going so well between them… but clearly not since Paul was now single.

Again.

Paul tried to push those unhelpful ruminations away, but they kept snapping back. He pulled up another page of text and forced himself to focus on every word. It slowly worked, though before he could relax, an utterly grating sound hit his ears.

It sounded like humming mixed with a cat’s dying yowl and a strangled crow’s cry. His ears caught a few of the mangled notes and… Is that? He thinks, is that opera? Kasselian opera? Seriously, who hums that?!

Refusing to have his ears bleed, Paul packs up his stuff and leaves. He got his coffee and will return to his hotel room for the peace he can’t get here. Paul stops at the street corner, looks both ways, and starts to cross. He spots something from the corner of his eye, and the next second he’s on the ground.

He blinks hazily. Why am I..? Warm, thick liquid crawls down his face; it smells metallic. A loud thumping deafens his ears to any other sound.

Someone is kneeling beside him, talking, but Paul can’t hear a thing. A hand touches him, eliciting sparks of pain and a weak groan. There’s more movement and sounds, but blissful unconsciousness grabs Paul in its gentle grasp.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To Paul’s dismay, he wakes up feeling worse than before passing out. His head and chest throbbed, a fiery pain burned down his right arm, and his left hip was in agony. He can hear people bustling around him. The smell of cloying blood and sharp antiseptic sting his nose. He was lying on his back now instead of his side. Where… am I?

Paul weakly opens his eyes. His right eye won’t open, and vision through his left is shifting in and out of focus. Something keeps his head immobile, leaving him unable to see what’s happening. Fear claws up his chest, and his breath comes in short. A whimper breaks through, and Paul hates himself for it.

A warm hand settles on his uninjured shoulder, and another lightly clasps his hand.

“…ou hear me?”

Paul reopened his eye with no memory of having closed it. A doctor is hovering over him with a soft, reassuring smile. The first thing Paul thinks is oh, he’s cute.

“Can you hear me?” The doctor repeats.

Paul faintly nods, and the doctor’s smile is now tinged with relief. “Good. You’re at Grandview Hospital, and you’ve been in a hit-and-run accident. I know you’re hurt and scared, but you’re going to be alright. We’re going to take care of you.”

His gentle tone actually reassures Paul, and he feels his fear abating. The doctor gently squeezes Paul’s hand while Paul can only weakly curl his fingers around his. Paul can feel his energy fading, and his eye falls closed. Yet, even as his awareness fades, he can still feel the doctor holding his hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Awareness creeps back to Paul, this time painlessly. He doesn’t open his eyes and revels in the warmth and comfort he now finds himself in. His senses return, and his ears pick up a familiar and annoying sound. The tune chafes like sandpaper on his eardrums.

Wait… where? Where have I heard this? His mind jumps back to when he and Chelsea still lived together. She played this song for the hundredth time for some assignment, which drove Paul mad. But… no, that wasn’t right. He heard this more recently than that.

Café. Conference. Thinking about Noah. Annoying humming and…

If Paul had the strength, his eyes would’ve snapped open. But, instead, they fluttered open weakly. He could see white walls with windows to his right, and that he lay in a bed, slightly propped up. A hand lightly touches his shoulder, and he looks to his left to see a familiar and not just cute but handsome doctor beside him.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Paul felt heat suffuse his cheeks, and he hoped the doctor didn’t notice. Stop staring and say something!

“I… I’m fine. Wait a minute, was that you humming?”

The doctor smiles sheepishly, “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Sometimes I do it without realizing it; sorry if that woke you.”

“No, I mean I heard that—you— before. At a café, I was at before… getting hit.”

Realization dawns on his face, “You know, I thought you looked familiar. I saw you leave the café; you didn’t look too happy.”

For a second, Paul wants to tell him the real reasons behind his unhappiness. But he bats that idea away and settles for his usual sarcasm, “Well, kind of hard to focus when someone is humming Kasselian opera off-key.”

The doctor chuckles, and it warms Paul’s heart, “Hey, I wasn’t—wait, how did you know what I was humming?”

“When my sister was studying for her musicology degree, she had to study another culture’s opera or something. Guess what she played at home for almost three straight months?”

“I apologize if my off-key humming drove you away and,” the doctor’s face softens in apology, “led you to getting hurt.”

Paul felt a strong desire to ease any guilt the doctor might be feeling. “It’s not your fault. Though do I want to know what the damage is?”

That smile falters and Paul briefly feels remorse. “Your left hip and right shoulder were fractured. So too, were three of your ribs, left leg, and right arm. You’ve got some scrapes and bruises that are minor in comparison.”

Could’ve been worse, I guess. “Not to sound rude, but how long am I going to be here?”

The doctor scrolled through something on his PADD; Paul guessed it might be his medical chart. “You’ll need a few more rounds of osteo and dermal regen, but after that, and there are no unforeseen complications, I’d say four or five days.”

Great. Not how Paul expected to spend his time away from the lab. A three-day conference now turned into a five-day hospital stay. He must show the displeasure on his face because the doctor’s face softens with concern.

“Was there somewhere you needed to be?”

“No, not exactly. I’m just not a fan of uh,” Paul gestures to the room.

The doctor smiles in understanding, “Don’t worry, I get it. Staying in a hospital isn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.”

Paul relaxed against the pillows with a sigh. “I’ll have to contact the conference hosts and tell them what happened. Not to mention my lab partner, or I’m sure he’ll panic.”

“Justin Straal, right?” The doctor asked. “He was listed as your emergency contact, so we called him and gave him a brief overview of what happened and how you were doing. He’s been… persistent in getting updates on you.”

Relentlessly annoying, you mean? “I apologize for him bothering you. I’ll call him now and let him know I’m fine.”

Paul realizes he doesn’t have his PADD. The doctor grabs it from a plastic bag sitting on a nearby chair. He glimpses his clothes, clean and neatly folded inside too, and his messenger bag.

“Thank you,” Paul starts but realizes his missing something. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

The doctor’s grin is beautiful and charming, and Paul feels his heart skip a beat. He holds out his hand to shake, and Paul takes it. “Dr. Hugh Culber.”

To Paul, Culber’s grip is warm and secure. “Dr. Paul Stamets.”

Culber’s eyebrows rise in interest, “Really? Are in medicine too or...?”

“Mycology and astrophysics, actually I—"

Paul’s PADD loudly chirps with an incoming call causing both men to jump. Paul groans when he sees the caller ID. Damn it, Justin, of all times to call. He accepts the call but on audio only. If Justin saw Paul’s bruised and scraped face, he’d freak.

“Hello, Justin.”

“Paul! Oh my God, you’re okay. I can’t believe the one time you go to a conference alone, you almost end up as roadkill! That’s it; I’m never letting you travel alone again.”

Paul can feel his eye twitching, and it doesn’t help that Dr. Culber is trying not to laugh. He lightly touches Paul’s arm and says quietly, “I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

Paul nods and, with some regret, watches the doctor leave.

“Paul, are you even listening to me?”

“No.” And he wasn’t completely, his mind too focused on the pleasure of getting to see Dr. Culber again.

Chapter Text

Adira didn’t have parents after age six, nor did Gray three years after that. Growing up on a generation ship was the literal ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ metaphor. There wasn’t much “raising,” though, as Adira and Gray were left to their own devices. No one bothered them so long as they didn’t get in the way or break anything.

Which made enforced rules and boundaries all the more annoying.

1.

“Adira, bedtime,” Paul says while shutting down his station for the night.

“I’m not tired,” they mutter, eyes glued to the numbers on their screen.

Paul walks over, swiftly saves their work, and locks them out of their terminal.

“Hey!”

“I’m not asking if you’re tired; I’m saying it’s time for bed.”

Adira (pouts) glares at him. A bedtime, seriously? As a child, no one ever made them and Gray go to bed at a certain time. They fell asleep whenever or stayed up all night. The UEDF had a curfew but no set time they had to sleep.

“I’m not a little kid. I don’t need a bedtime.”

Paul doesn’t relent, “No, you’re not, but it’s almost 2200, and you need to be up by 0700 for your shift tomorrow. Teenagers need more sleep than adults, and I don’t want you to be tired.”

“Fine,” they huff. “I can work in my quarters.”

“Do that, and I’ll ground you,” Paul casually shoots back.

Adira narrows their eyes, “How would you know if I did?”

“Trust me, I’ll know. Do you really want to take that chance?”

Logically, Adira knows Paul isn’t omnipotent, but they also don’t want to risk getting grounded. So they say nothing and sourly glare at the floor; Paul smiles victoriously.

He nudges them out Engineering, “We’ve had a busy day today, and you need to rest up for an equally busy day tomorrow.”

Adira brushes off his touch and leaves. They change clothes and crawl into bed, grabbing a pillow to cuddle. Gray and Adira used to sleep back-to-back or beside each other. Not having him here was… an adjustment. Sleep eventually claimed them.

(They ardently refuse to admit that they feel well-rested after going to bed when Paul told them to.)

2.

Adira scrolled through the replicator menu. What do I want? They can feel their mind flagging and need a caffeine boost. They pick a café au lait, but a pop-up appears on the screen.

‘Cannot comply with request. Limit of three (3) caffeinated beverages per day have been reached.’

“What? Who put that limit on?”

They dig a little into the programming to find out.

Adira groans. Fine, if they couldn’t have caffeine, then they’d settle for something sugary. They peruse the menu and pick a double chocolate brownie.

‘Cannot comply with request.’

“Oh, come on!” Adira indulged a sense of childishness and stomped their foot.

‘Dessert items cannot be replicated within one hour of 0730, 1300, or 1700.’

Those were the times they usually ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Paul and Hugh. They look at the clock, and dinner is in less than an hour. This was so unfair! Before, they and Gray would eat whatever and whenever they wanted. Cake for lunch or coffee ice cream at midnight, it didn’t matter. No one stopped them, and it was great.

Well… until they ate themselves sick or crashed painfully from the sugar and caffeine rush.

They flopped down on their bed because they wouldn’t get any coffee or sugar. Adira worked half-heartedly on their PADD until dinner time came. They eat with Paul and Hugh and say nothing about their unfair replicator restrictions.

(They never mention how good they feel after eating an actual meal.)

3.

Adira sits on a biobed while Hugh runs a dermal regen over a large burn on their hand. Paul stands nearby, arms crossed and looking miffed at them. Not my fault the ship lurched, and I touched the exposed wiring. The ship had been hit by a flare that fried the conduit system. One section was in a tightly wedged space that few could crawl into.

“I told you I would take care of it. Why did you go in there? You could’ve been electrocuted.”

Adira shrugs, “It’s a tight fit, and I’m the only one who could get in there and fix it.”

“That’s not the point,” Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hugh, talk some sense into them.”

“What makes you think I can? I can’t even talk sense into you.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Adira huffs.

They really don’t. No one made a fuss on the ship they lived on with Gray if either of them got hurt. They were responsible for going to sickbay if either of them were hurt or sick. No one checked in on them or cared enough to get mad because they were worried.

“The big deal is,” Hugh says gently, “We don’t want to see you get hurt. We care about you.”

(Adira never remarks on the warm feeling they get when realizing Hugh means it.)

4.

Adira looked around their temporary spartan quarters aboard the USS Merritt. Tilly was running a training exercise with her cadets and asked for Adira’s help again. It would only be for four days, yet it took a lot of wheedling from both of them to get Paul and Hugh to agree. They drop the small canvas bag on the bed. Hugh had insisted Adira take it even though they could replicate whatever they needed.

Inside the bag, they find a stuffed snow leopard. Adira knew Gray had a regular stuffed leopard, a gift from Tilly. It had become an inside joke after Tilly (when de-aged) compared Gray to a leopard because of his Trill spots. Adira next pulls out a plastic container filled with cookies. Chocolate chip, double chocolate chunk, and snickerdoodle all looked too imperfect to be anything but homemade. Lastly is a paperback book titled The Hobbit with a paper note sticking out between the pages.

‘Adira, I enjoyed reading this as a kid and thought you might like it too. There’s a trilogy that takes place after this book and a prequel series in case you want more. Please don’t dogear the pages like Hugh does.

Remember to go to bed by 2200. Don’t eat all the cookies at once. Listen to Tilly and do as she says.’

Below is a short message written in different handwriting.

‘Have fun and try to make more friends while you are there. Comm us if you ever need anything or if you miss us. We’ll see you in a few days. Love, Paul and Hugh.’

Adira snorts and fondly shakes their head. They look back at the note and smile. If this is what it means to have parents, then maybe the rules and boundaries aren’t so bad. It only means they care.

(They say nothing out loud, but they do send their dads a quick thank you message.)

Chapter Text

After a long day of counseling and helping with a medical emergency, Hugh was grateful to go home. A hot shower and a long cuddle session with Paul were exactly what he needed.

He steps inside and smells chicken and vegetables cooking. It wasn’t often either of them cooked, usually too tired, and replicators were far easier to use instead. Paul was focused on stirring the contents of a sizzling frying pan to notice Hugh.

“How do you say, ‘how are you feeling today?’” Zora asks.

“Cómo sientes hoy?”

“It’s cómote sientes hoy?”

“Ugh, I’m never going to get this,” Paul sighs.

Zora chuckles good-naturedly, “Keep trying, Commander. How about ‘I’m well, thank you’?”

“Estoy bien, gracias.”

“See? You are getting it.”

Hugh leans against the wall, looking at Paul. Is… Is he learning Spanish? I’m surprised he didn’t ask me. Universal translators made learning a new langue almost a moot point unless the translator was turned off or malfunctioning. Hugh spoke Standard and Spanish and a smattering of Vulcan. He knew Paul could speak passable Andorian and some Yiddish.

“All I can do are basic phrases.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Zora reassured. “And I’m sure Dr. Culber will appreciate your effort. Right, Doctor?”

Paul finally sees him, and Hugh laughs at the double take he does. “You’re right, Zora.”

“Did you know he was there?!” Paul squawks.

Instead of answering, Zora says, “Oh look at the time. It’s getting late; goodnight, Commander, Doctor.”

Paul groans and moves the pan off the stove. The scent of cooked chicken, vegetables, and spices reminds Hugh of his hunger. He chuckles and wraps his arms around Paul from behind.

His partner turns off the stovetop and leans against Hugh’s chest. “I swear she’s going to be as mischievous as Justin used to be.”

Hugh kisses Paul’s cheek, “And would that be so bad?”

The side-eye he gets draws another quiet laugh from him. The pair stand like that momentarily until Paul turns around in Hugh’s arms to face him and kiss him properly.

“Why were you having Zora help you learn Spanish?” Hugh asks gently.

An adorable blush creeps over Paul’s face. “Well… I thought it’d be a nice surprise for you. I know you used to talk to your family in Spanish on comms and when you visited. But since they’re not and we’re… I thought you might like having someone to talk to in Spanish when you miss them.”

Hugh blinks at him, stunned. Every fiber of his being fell in love with this man once again. He pulled Paul in for a deeper kiss to physically express his deepening love for him. Paul melted against Hugh, wrapping his arms tighter around him and returning the passionate fervor. They eventually part for air and rest their foreheads together.

“Te amo,” Paul murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“That’s how you say I love you, right?”

Hugh smiles and draws him in for another kiss. “Yes, love, and you pronounced it perfectly.”

Chapter Text

Paul is going to kill me.

It’s not the first time Justin has ever thought that in his years-long friendship with Paul. Usually, it was with a cavalier acceptance and the sure knowledge that Paul wouldn’t actually do it. But this time, though… not even their friendship would save him.

I’m actively betraying my best friend. Because that’s what this was. Going behind Paul’s back and agreeing to let Starfleet take their research to aid the war effort. Justin loved Paul like a brother, but the mad could be horrifically stubborn at the worst times. Starfleet was at war, and they were a part of Starfleet. The higher-ups could (and would) seize their research anyway and court martial them for treason if they kept refusing. So that’s why Justin was having a video call with three admirals after hours and without Paul’s knowledge.

“Glad one of you has some common sense,” the admiral, Justin can’t remember his name, growls. “That partner of yours needs to understand that Starfleet is more important than his opinions of us.”

Justin fights back the urge to defend Paul. He has to play nice with these bureaucratic jarheads if he and Paul are to keep any sort of control over their work.

“Hagen, be nice,” a woman admiral (Cornwallace? Cornhole? Cornwell!) lightly chastises. “We came to them for help; show some respect.”

“They are members of Starfleet. They should’ve jumped up and handed everything over the second we called instead of this damn pandering.”

Cornwell rubs her forehead, and the third admiral, a Tellarite, clears his throat.

“Anyway, we appreciate your agreeing to the terms and conditions of supplying your work. You and Lieutenant Stamets will spearhead the spore drive project. You can pick your own staff and requisition any necessary supplies. Your formal orders will be sent as early as tomorrow morning.”

Justin cringed. This was really happening. It was easy to forget they were Starfleet, tucked away in a small lab on a peaceful planet. But now, with the war beginning its rampage, Starfleet looked for any possible advantage and set their sights on them.

“Thank you, sirs and ma’am,” he says politely.

Two admirals sign off, but before Cornwell does, Justin gets an idea. It might not work and won’t completely save him from Paul’s wrath, but he had to do something.

“Oh wait, uh, Admiral Cornwell?” She pauses, and he figuratively throws himself at her feet. “Look, I know I don’t have any bargaining power, but can I ask a favor?”

She raises an eyebrow, amused and interested, “It depends upon the favor.”

“Would it be possible to transfer a Starfleet officer to whatever ship Lieutenant Stamets is assigned? He isn’t a staff member, but he has a registered partnership with the lieutenant.”

Registered partnerships didn’t carry the same weight as a legal marriage, but it was better than nothing. Justin had badgered Paul to tie the knot already, but Paul procrastinated for one reason or another. Justin tries not to think about the ruby ring in the little box he has stashed in his nightstand drawer.

Cornwell mulled it over and spoke, “It’d be easier if they were married, but… if the lieutenant’s partner were to put in a transfer request and it happened to be sent to me, then… they just might find themselves on the same ship.”

Justin nearly fell over in relief. “Thank you, thank you, ma’am.”

Her face softens, “I know this isn’t easy for either of you, and it’s not something Starfleet normally does. But we are at war, and we need everyone doing their part. The Klingons won’t let up, and neither can we.”

Justin nods and bids her goodbye, and shuts off the computer. He sits in the suffocating silence of the lab and thinks. What have I done? Paul is going to kill me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“JUSTIN!”

Shit. Justin can see Paul is seething with anger, a rare occurrence for an emotionally reserved person like him. Ruby, their lead lab tech, shoots Justin a worried and questioning look. He shakes his head and makes a shooing gesture. She takes the hint and rounds up the few already here and into the greenhouse.

I’m dead. So very, very dead. God, if my death is to be at Paul’s hands, please make it quick and painless.

“You traitorous son of a bitch,” Paul stalks toward him, PADD in his shaking hand. “I got orders from Starfleet that we’re being shipped out in two weeks. You agreed to give them our work, didn’t you?”

Justin got the same orders this morning. He put aside his habit of using humor to lighten Paul’s mood or deflect. Paul was angry and hurt enough as it was, and joking would only make it worse.

“I did,” he winces at the shift in Paul’s expression from anger to betrayed hurt. “I-Look, I didn’t want to but…. They were going to take our work anyway. I figured this way, we could still have some control over it. I know it was wrong, and I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I am so sorry, but I didn’t have a choice.”

He reaches out to him, and Paul jerks back, the hurt giving way to anger again. “No, you had a choice. And you chose to stab me in the back and give everything we ever worked for to those self-righteous assholes.”

“I’m sorry,” Justin murmurs.

It’s a weak apology, but what could he possibly say to fix this? He made a monumental decision for both of them without consulting Paul. They were would now be more entangled with Starfleet and this war than ever before. Their science will be used for warfare, not exploration, a means to help kill the enemy not study the beauty of the universe.

Paul’s lips are tightly pressed, and Justin waits for him to start yelling again. Instead, Paul deflates, and he gives Justin a long, searing glare before storming out of the lab. Minutes silently tick by, and Ruby pokes her head out from the greenhouse door.

“Is it safe to come out?”

Justin sinks into his chair and buries his face in his hands.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I’ve just lost my best friend. Justin lays stretched out on his couch with one arm tucked under his head and the other holding a glass of scotch. They would still be research partners; mycology was a small field, and astromycology even more so. But it wasn’t the same as having someone to trade jokes and gossip with.

His PADD pings with an incoming message. He sits up and sets his glass aside, hoping it’s Amelia. She was off planet at a chemistry conference, and he’d messaged her an hour ago about what’s happened. He picks up the tablet and sees ‘Incoming call from Dr. H. Culber.’

Shit. Hugh was a very nice guy, and Justin liked him, but Justin also knew that nice people could be vicious when angered enough. Paul must’ve called him and told him everything. Well, it’s not like he can do anything worse to me. He accepts the call.

“Evening, Justin,” Hugh greets with a smile.

Okay, he doesn’t look mad; maybe I’m not screwed. “Hey Hugh, you talked to Paul, didn’t you?”

His smile fades, “I did. He’s… very upset and hurt. I know Starfleet has been putting pressure on you both, so why cave now? What happened?”

The questions aren’t accusatory and are spoken with Hugh’s gentle, understanding tone. Justin runs his hand through his hair and takes a fortifying drink.

“Starfleet was getting impatient and threatened to court martial us unless we agreed. I know Paul never would, they could threaten his life, and he’d still hold his ground. At least this way, we have some say in how our work is handled rather than sitting behind bars while they butcher it.”

Justin knew Hugh believed in the good of Starfleet and all that they do. The man was a living embodiment of that good, yet he wasn’t naïve.

“I see your point, and I thank you for keeping my partner out of jail.” His lips twitch up at the joke, “But you still hurt him.”

Justin sighs, “I know. He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“He’s angry and hurt, but he doesn’t hate you,” Hugh reassures him. “I can talk to him if you want; tell him your side of the story.”

It felt cowardly to have Hugh do it, but he knew Paul would listen to Hugh. “Could you?”

“Sure, I can’t guarantee who won’t still be angry and hurt, but I can make sure he knows why you did this.”

It’s more than Justin could hope for, more he feels he deserves.

“Thanks; oh wait, Hugh,” he says before hanging up. “If you want to be on the same ship as Paul, send a transfer request directly to Admiral Cornwell. She can’t guarantee anything, but she is your best shot at being posted together.”

A grin slowly appears, “I’ll remember that; thank you, Justin.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The air in the lab is tense and anticipatory. Paul hadn’t arrived yet, and each passing minute made Justin anxious and relieved. He wanted to get this fight or whatever over with, but confrontation was never his forte and preferred to avoid it.

Justin jumped when the door opened, and Paul walked in carrying two to-go cups of coffee. Peace offering? He thought hopefully. Coffee was an odd sort of love language between them, sometimes used to apologize or show care.

Paul’s face reveals nothing as he sets one cup before Justin. He hesitantly grabs the cup and pries off the lid. A café mocha, his favorite. His eyes dart between the drink and Paul until Paul rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t poison it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Can’t be too careful,” he says sheepishly and takes a drink.

Paul sets his own coffee down, not looking at Justin. “I get it. I get why you did it, but I’m still hurt and angry with you.”

“And you have every right to be.”

Paul’s shoulders sag like he’s already tired of being angry. Or maybe it’s resignation that he now has no choice but to get involved in this confrontation. Either way, Justin feels rotten about all this.

“Hey,” he says, and Paul looks at him. “I really am sorry about us getting involved. But no matter what, I’ll have your back through it all, just like I know you’ll have mine. We’ll get through this.”

He had to believe that for both their sakes.

Chapter Text

Adira has been on Discovery for almost three weeks, and they’ve noticed something. They’re unsure if it’s common knowledge or one of those things people don’t talk about. Even from their covert observations, they still can’t tell if what they’ve noticed is correct.

The next logical step is to ask. But what if it’s a sensitive topic? What if neither of them doesn’t like to talk about it?

“You could still ask and apologize if it is,” Gray points out.

Adira knows that, but they don’t want to risk offending anybody here. Discovery is nice. it’s comfortable and safe in ways Adira doesn’t remember experiencing. But their curiosity continues to eat at them until they finally give in.

They and Tilly are sitting in a Jefferies tube fixing a section of circuity that had short-circuited. The job only needed one of, but Paul suggested Adira learn how to make repairs on such a… different kind of ship. Adira also got the feeling he wanted them to get practice working together.

“Hey, Tilly? Can I ask a question?”

Tilly twists her screwdriver, “Uh, sure, what is it?”

“Is Lieutenant Commander Stamets your dad?”

Tilly drops her tool and bangs her head on the tube’s ceiling. She winces and rubs her head, cheeks flushing.

“Wh—Why… What… What makes you think that?!”

“Well, you have similar eye color and complexion. You both act like each other, and he favors you, it seems like.”

Tilly’s face burns a brighter red, and she looks mortified. Maybe it was a sensitive topic, Adira thinks.

“I’m sorry, did I..?”

“No, no, it’s… it’s fine. We’re not… I mean, I’m not… c-can we just finish this, please?” Tilly hurriedly says.

Adira complies, and they finish the repairs and crawl out of the tube. Tilly takes the toolbox and scurries past Paul and Hugh.

“Is Tilly okay?” Paul asks.

“I asked her if you were her dad, and she kind of… got embarrassed, I guess?”

Paul and Hugh blink at them, then Hugh starts laughing, and Paul’s face reddens the same way Tilly’s did. Adira doesn’t get what’s so funny or why Paul is burying his flushed face in his hands.

“Oh God…”

“You can’t deny it now, dear,” Hugh chuckles. “Adira hasn’t been here for a month, and they can already see it.”

Paul drops his hands and shakes his head, “Why does everyone… I mean, we’re not that similar, are we?”

“You kind of are,” Adira adds, and Hugh starts laughing again.

“Look, Tilly and I aren’t related or anything. She’s someone I mentored, sort of.”

“Tilly is Paul’s protégé, but now it’s become a running joke that he’s adopted her,” Hugh explains, smiling with great amusement.

Oh. That made sense. Adopted and found families were nothing new to Adira.

“Anyway, it’s time for this family to have dinner,” Hugh looks over Paul’s shoulder. “Come on, Tilly, it’s time to eat.”

Tilly comes out of wherever she’d been hiding. Her face looks far less red though she and Paul can’t seem to look at each other. Adira feels a slight disappointment at watching them leave together.

“I’ll get started on the calibrations and diagnostics for—"

Hugh stops them, “Oh no, you don’t; Adira, you’re eating with us too.”

“Wait? Me?”

“Yes, you. Paul has adopted you too, you know.”

“Hugh!”

Paul’s indignant cry only makes Hugh laugh again, and Adira smiles.

Chapter Text

Paul sits at the small desk in their quarters while Hugh is reading in bed. I suppose I should be grateful he’s home, Hugh tries to console himself. Lorca is driving Paul at all hours of the day and the mounting stress has thrown Paul’s sleeping schedule out the airlock. It breaks Hugh’s heart to see Paul stretched to his limit and continually pulled.

He needs to sleep. It’s a little past 2200 and if left alone Paul will work all night. Hugh sets his book aside and climbs out of bed. He gently wraps his arms around Paul’s shoulders from behind and kisses his cheek.

“You need to sleep, sweetheart. Whatever you’re working on can wait until morning.”

Paul tiredly scrubs his face, “I’ll be done in a minute, Hugh. Lorca is going to be on my ass more than usual unless I get this done.”

Hugh gives him another kiss. His hands curve around Paul’s shoulders, thumbs gently pressing into the space between his shoulder blades. Paul’s muscles feel firm as a brick wall. The fibrous tissue twisted by tension and stress. He increases the pressure and moves his thumbs in slow circles, adding his fingers too.

Slowly, Paul’s shoulders fall from his ears, his eyes slip shut, and his head starts to loll. The peaceful state doesn’t last though, Paul snaps awake and bats Hugh’s hands away.

“Hugh, stop. I have to work.” Paul sighs and buries his face in his hands, fingers gripping his hair.

He stops and lightly touches Paul’s back. Hugh isn’t giving up that easily and tries another tactic.

“Why are you taking off your shirt?” Paul asks, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hugh shrugs and plays innocent, “I’m feeling a little too warm, that’s all.”

“You could adjust the environmental controls.”

“Nah, too much work.”

Paul clearly didn’t believe him, but he also didn’t scoff and returned to his work. No, his eyes were quite fixed on Hugh’s body. Hugh felt some satisfaction that his plan might be working. He extended his hand and helped an unresisting Paul stand up. Paul closed the distance between them and rested his head on Hugh’s shoulder.

“I’m not tired,” Paul grumbles.

“I know, but you can take a break and rest your eyes, love.”

Paul hums and the pair stand together, lightly swaying. Hugh wraps one arm around his partner. He takes Paul’s free hand and sets it on his waist so his fingers touch his well-defined muscles. Paul’s fingers lovingly caress and stroke his skin in familiar patterns. Hugh gently rubs his back and occasionally kisses his head.

After a few moments Paul tiredly lifts his head. His eyes slightly unfocused but Hugh can see the gears turning. “Are you trying to seduce me into sleeping?”

Hugh amusedly grins, “Is it working?”

He looks down to see Paul trying to suppress a smile and appear annoyed. “If I say yes, are you going to do this again?”

“I’ll log it away for future reference.”

His smile breaks through and he nuzzles Hugh’s neck. They stay like this, savoring the peaceful atmosphere and forget about the pressures of the war. These soft, safe moments Hugh savors like a fine, rare wine.

“Hugh?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m a little tired.”

Hugh chuckles and lets Paul go so he can dress for bed and brush his teeth. While he’s doing that, Hugh turns down the covers and crawls in. Paul follows a minute later and curls into Hugh’s side, head on his shoulder and hand splayed over Hugh’s chest. Paul’s thumb gently strokes over his heart. Hugh watches Paul fighting not to sleep, his eyes growing heavier with each blink.

“I’m jus’ going to rest my eyes for a minute,” Paul mumbles as he closes his eyes.

Hugh smiles fondly at his impossible man. He sets his hand over Paul’s and kisses his hair. “You do that sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

1.
It’s such a simple gesture, yet it provokes the most adorable reaction from Paul. Hugh doesn’t think twice about taking Paul’s hand to lead him down one of the garden trails. However, he doesn’t let go as they walk, too busy admiring the flowers. Not until he turns to Paul to say something does he notice how pink his face is.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine!” Paul squeaks. “I’m fine. It’s just… I mean, you’re still….” His eyes darted to their joined hands.

Hugh knows Paul is particular about touch, shying away from almost all contact. He smiles sheepishly, “Ah, sorry, I should’ve asked.”

Paul grips his hand before he can let go. “No! I, uh, it’s nice. I… I like it.”

Hugh feels like he’s just been given something immeasurably precious. He smiles softly and squeezes Paul’s hand, noting his deepening blush.

2.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, goodnight, sweetheart.”

Hugh is about to end the call when he sees Paul freeze. He looks like his brain has short-circuited and a delicate flush blooms on his pale skin.

“Paul?”

That snaps him out of it. “Sorry, it’s… I… uh, no one’s ever called me that. At least none of my past boyfriends.”

Oh.

“Are you okay with that? I could also call you darling, honey, or mi amor if that’s better.”

Given how deeply Paul was now blushing, Hugh wondered if he should stop teasing.

“Just… why? Why would you want to call me any of those things?”

Paul’s confusion is heartbreaking. Hugh responds with the simple truth, “Because I love you.”

3.
Hugh was on leave, and Paul had to work one more day before his leave started. So Hugh took this chance to indulge in some domesticity, like eating breakfast together and walking Paul to work. The lab was slowly coming alive with activity. Justin greets them brightly, and Hugh wonders if he’s naturally a morning person or acts that way to aggravate Paul.

Hugh sweetly kisses his partner, “Have a good day, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”

Just as Hugh walks out the door, he hears from Justin, “Wow, I’ve never seen your face turn that shade of pink, Paul. It’s very flattering.”

“Shut. Up.”

Hugh grins and goes on with his day.

4.
Hugh could listen to Paul all day. They’re sitting in Paul’s cultivation garden, and he’s explaining the work that went into growing and caring for each breed of mushroom. Hugh is always impressed by the breadth and depth of Paul’s knowledge and the unrestrained passion when he gets going.

Paul finally notices him staring, “What?”

“You really are amazing.”

A dusty pink spreads across his cheeks and up to his ears. He demurs, “I’m… I’m really not.”

Hugh leans against his side and rests his head against Paul’s. “Yes, you are.”

5.
Hugh didn’t blush or get flustered easily. It could either be from his easy nature or his unassailable self-confidence. Though it did happen on rare occasions.

Paul nestled himself on Hugh’s lap, slipping his arms around Hugh’s shoulders. They were both on Earth, Hugh working at Starfleet General while in-between starship assignments and Paul visiting family. Hugh encircled his arms around Paul’s waist and drew him in for a kiss. He loathed to part from Paul but needed to go, or he’d be late.

“As much as I love this, I have to get going, or I’ll be late,” he sighed.

“We certainly wouldn’t want that,” Paul murmured, leaning in for another kiss.

Hugh swears this man is temptation incarnate. Paul’s warm weight anchors Hugh in place, and his lips keep Hugh from any higher thought processes. The part only slightly to breathe, and Hugh sees Paul’s eyes gleam with love and just a hint of mischief.

“Perhaps I can give you something to think about while you’re gone.”

He leans close to Hugh’s ear and whispers an impressive litany of planned bedroom activities. Hugh feels arousal simmer, and a flush spreads across his cheeks. He isn’t a prude, but what Paul suggests is… wow. He had a better imagination than Hugh gave him credit for.

It would be a long shift, but Hugh knew it would be worth the wait.

Chapter Text

This can’t be real.

Paul wills himself to wake up. This has to be a dream. He closes his eyes and blocks everything out, focusing only on waking up.

“Paul?” The concerned feminine voice pulls him back.

He opens his eyes to still see the woman sitting behind her desk. She’s human with a flushed complexion and curly hair the color of tarnished brass. Her white medical uniform sits loosely on her narrow frame. Diplomas and awards hang on the wall behind her though he can’t read any of the writing; too blurry.

Everything feels hazy yet sharp. A lucid dream, perhaps? If that’s the case, why can’t I wake up?

“If you’re tired, we can stop our session here for today,” her kind tone is heavily laced with condescension.

Session? Right… therapist… Starfleet General psych ward and—

His clouded thoughts stumble to a halt, and a freezing dread seizes him. He doesn’t know how he knows this, only that he does.

“No… no I’m fine. I…” He shakes his head, “I shouldn’t be here. I-I don’t….”

The therapist’s expression becomes more pitying than sympathetic. “Paul, I know it’s hard to accept your situation and… everything that happened. But you need to if you want to get better.”

She wasn’t making any sense. None of this made sense. “I’m not crazy. Call Hugh; he knows I’m not—"

She sighs and speaks slowly, “Paul, Hugh is dead. We’ve been over this, remember?”

Static fills his ears, and panic squeezes his heart. Dead…? No, no he’s not… he….

“I know you’ve struggled to accept this. No one blames you for what you did. You weren’t in a sane state of mind.”

What I… did? What did… she mean by that?

“You were found holding Hugh’s body, your handprints on his neck.”

Terror, grief, and horror wash over him, petrifying him in place.

He stubbornly shakes his head. It’s not true. It can't be. “No. No, he’s alive. He came back, it’s hard to explain, but he did come back. I know he did. I was there.”

“That was a fantasy you created,” the therapist continues in that aggravatingly calm voice. “To help you cope, of course. But instead of coming back to reality once your grief lessened, you delved further in, and here you are. You loved him, and in your altered state, you killed him.”

His vision starts to gray, and he can’t breathe. He shakes his head, staunchly refusing to believe what he’s hearing. “No, Hugh is alive. He’s in the network or another reality, but I know he’s alive!”

He tries to stand, but a firm hand grips his shoulder and shoves him back into the chair, pinning him in place. Another hand pins Paul’s arm before he can try to pry off the first hand.

“Be gentle with him now,” she serenely chides. “Don’t worry, Paul. We’ll take care of you, and you’ll be better soon. But for now, you need to rest.”

A hypo pricks his neck, and Paul feels a wave of lethargy wash over him. Wake up. Wake up, damn it! He can feel warm tears pooling in his eyes. A desperate sob dies in his throat.

Please… let me wake up.

Please don’t let this be real.

Chapter Text

Hugh marvels at how new the touch of grass feels. He very lightly rests his hand on the tips of the grass blades. This body has never felt grass, but his mind remembers. There’s a slight discordance between new nerves and old memories. Hugh finds it amusing rather than bothersome.

Sunlight filters through the canopy of green leaves above them. Hugh watches the light play against his skin, another thing this body hasn’t felt yet. If one counted Essof IV (which Hugh didn’t), then feeling sunlight wasn’t the first time. A warm breeze stirs the leaves, creating a melodious rustle.

He can see Tilly and the others gathered around a massive oak tree, talking and laughing. It was a peaceful and relaxing sight, especially after everything they’d recently been through. Hugh smiled and turned his attention to Paul sitting beside him, sleeping with his head resting on Hugh’s shoulder.

When Paul heard the others were beaming down to Earth, he begged Hugh for them to go too. given Paul wasn’t completely healed, Hugh wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. But he could never resist Paul’s pleading blue eyes. His partner loved being outside, feeling the sun, wind and flora around him.

“Think of how beneficial it’d be for my health,” Paul wheedles.

Hugh finally breaks with a sigh, “Fine, but I’m escorting you down and staying with you so you don’t reinjure yourself again.”

They settled against a hardy tree on the Academy grounds not far from the others. They barely talked though Hugh knew they had much to discuss. Instead, choosing to savor the tranquility and rest, fingers intertwined and leaning on each other. The brief trip already wore Paul out, and he quickly fell asleep; Hugh didn’t have the heart (or desire) to wake him. Paul needed rest and looked so serene that waking him would be cruel.

So Hugh remains still and lets Paul sleep. He gently nuzzles his blond hair and lightly plants a kiss. Hugh leans back, enjoying the warm body pressed against his, the sun dappling his skin and the feeling of rightness and peace for the first time in his new life.

Chapter Text

Sometimes it was too easy.

Not that Hugh was going to complain. An easy job meant a quick job where Hugh could make it home and sleep for more than four hours. The fantasy of extra sleep distracted Hugh, and he nearly lost his grip trying to scale the wall. He gripped the stone tighter and pressed his body against the building.

If I don’t fall to my death first, otherwise I’ll sleep forever. With that grim joke in mind, Hugh resumed climbing. He grabbed the stone sill of the second-story window and hauled himself up. It took some minor lockpicking, but he opened the window and slipped inside.

The family that lived here would be gone all night attending a formal dinner and then the opera. Hugh suppressed a sigh; it’d been ages since he’d last been to the opera. He shook his head. Focus, Hugh, get in and get out. He scanned the dark room lit only by the almost full moon.

He can tell the furniture is luxurious and expensive even in the dim light. It’s what he’d expect from an old-money family though he still rolled his eyes. However, Hugh shouldn’t complain since his family is wealthy too (nouveau riche, to quote the French). And yet your brother won’t spare a cent to help your practice or those in need, a sly voice taunted.

Hugh tempered his irritation at the reminder of his brother’s greed and callousness. He carefully walks the room, silently opening drawers and the armoire. Hugh was about to move to the next room when his eye caught the glint of something shiny. Resting on the dresser were a pair of gold and diamond cufflinks.

These should fetch a decent price. He pockets the jewelry and makes for the door when he hears footsteps approaching. It could be a servant passing by, but Hugh doesn’t want to chance it. He ducks into the small space between the armoire and the bookcase.

The door opened, and Hugh inched to just barely peek out from his hiding place. It was a man about Hugh’s age in a nightshirt and robe carrying a lit chamberstick. Hugh vaguely recognizes him from somewhere, a party or ball perhaps.

The man pauses at his dresser and idly moves objects around as if looking for something. He mutters, “Huh, I swore I put them here….”

Hugh holds his breath and wills himself to be invisible, undetected. He hears the soft click of a door closing and tentatively looks to see the man is gone. The chamberstick is on the dresser, the little light gently wavering. Hugh surmises he must’ve gone to the washroom; now was his chance. He creeps out from his alcove and for the window.

Three steps out, he hears a thin whistling of something cutting the air. Instinct and habit forced Hugh to pivot and reach out, seizing an iron fire poker that would’ve struck his head. He and the man blink at each other momentarily, and Hugh finds himself instantly captivated.

They’re close enough that Hugh can see his beautiful clear blue eyes. Strands of tousled pale blond hair fall across his forehead, and Hugh resists the urge to brush them back. The man steps back and lowers his improvised weapon. Up close now, Hugh remembers him. Paul Stamets, the youngest child and only son of the Stamets family.

Hugh knows he’s staring, but words are failing him at the sight of this handsome man. He swallows past his dry throat and puts on a charming smile.

“My sincerest apologies for frightening you.”

Paul looks (adorably) befuddled, “You didn’t frighten me, annoy more like. And—” His eyes narrow, and he points the fire poker at Hugh, “You stole my cufflinks, didn’t you?”

“You mean these?” Hugh holds them up between his fingers, “Would you miss them?”

“Yes, I would.”

“I doubt that,” Hugh scoffs. “I’m sure you could buy a dozen cufflinks like these and still have money to spare.”

“That’s not the point,” Paul says curtly. “They belonged to my grandfather, and he’s… gone. Those are one of the few things I have left of him.” Paul holds out his hand, “So if you would please.”

This could easily be a trap, Paul waiting for Hugh to get closer and try brandishing him again. Although he didn’t call out for help or attack me again. And how did he know I was here? Hugh looks into Paul’s eyes, and the other man unflinchingly looks back. He finds no dishonesty, fear, or deception in that azure gaze.

Hugh has no qualms stealing for the greater good. However, he did have lines he wouldn’t cross. No murder, physically harming another, kidnapping, lying, or stealing from those who need it more. Hugh supposed the latter could be abled if in the loosest sense.

“Seems I’ll be going home emptyhanded tonight,” Hugh sighed.

He placed the cufflinks in Paul’s open palm, letting his gloved fingers linger on his. The small touch sent a spark up Hugh’s arm and straight to his heart. Paul closes his fingers around the little treasures and swallows.

“Not necessarily,” Paul says, pocketing the cufflinks. “Wait here.”

He sets the poker down and is out the door before Hugh can stop him. Damnation, now you’ve done it, Hugh. It was a trap, and Paul was getting help. Hugh quickly opens the window and swings one leg into the open air. He could climb down a few feet and jump without the risk of breaking a leg.

“Leaving already?”

Hugh whips around to see Paul has returned with something in his palm. He looks… amused at Hugh’s position, “I’d be a poor host if I didn’t offer you some tea at least.”

He recognizes the tease and smiles, “I’ll have to decline for now and have to take you up on that another time.”

Paul’s lips twitch up in a smile, “Then perhaps I can offer you this instead.”

He hands him the proffered object, and Hugh feels that same spark when their fingers touch again. It might be his imagination, but it feels like Paul is the one prolonging the contact this time. It’s only seconds though, and it’s over.

Hugh now holds a heavily bejeweled flower-shaped brooch, the sapphires, diamonds, and emeralds glittering in the moonlight. It’s beautiful, and Hugh guessed it could fund his practice for a good five, maybe six months if he’s careful.

“Why… why would you give me this? You know I’m a thief, right?”

Paul rolls his eyes, “I’m aware. Just as I was aware, someone stole my cufflinks and the signs someone had been pawing through my belongings.”

Hugh thought he’d been careful, but apparently not. Lack of sleep will do that to you.

“That and anything I can do to get back at my mother is worth it.”

Hugh hears the mischief in Paul’s tone, “Think she’ll miss this?”

“Not terribly, haven’t seen her wear it in years. She can always buy another anyway.”

“Thank you,” Hugh says with much sincerity. “ I promise this will be put to good use. You know, I’m surprised you’re here at all. I thought you and your family we’re supposed to have dinner and attend the opera.”

“That’s because I didn’t go. I can’t stand opera. It’s boring, and the singing grates against my ears. Yowling cats would sound better.”

Hugh’s mouth drops open. How could anyone dislike opera? Yowling cats… how dare he! “Well, perhaps you have not been to a good opera because I can assure you it is normally not boring.”

“I suppose it depends on the opera,” Paul’s eyes flick up and down Hugh’s body. “And the company I see it with.”

Hugh feels heat rise to his cheeks and is grateful for the lack of light. “Quite right, though I must be off. I’ll show myself out.”

“You’re not planning on jumping out the window, are you?”

“I can’t exactly walk out your front door.”

“I know, but I have a better idea. Do you trust me?”

Hugh would’ve laughed if anyone else had sked that question. But not Paul with his earnest, honest blue eyes. “You haven’t ratted me out yet, so I suppose I can.”

Paul’s small, relieved smile made Hugh’s heart unexpectedly jump. “Good, then follow me.”

Hugh does, and Paul carefully leads him to a narrow servants’ stairway. They walk down the creaky steps to a door that Paul unlocks and pulls open, leading to the outside. Hugh pauses, waiting for a trap to spring, but none is forthcoming. Hugh cautiously walks past Paul and into freedom though curiosity makes him stop and look at Paul.

“Why are you helping me?”

“I have my reasons,” Paul smiles and winks. “Try not to get caught on your way home.”

That said, Paul quietly closes the door, leaving Hugh with the brooch still in his hand. Hugh may not have stolen anything tonight, but it was clear that Paul had stolen his heart.

Chapter Text

When they return to Discovery, Paul numbly tells Tilly and Michael he needs to be alone. A tiny part of him is proud of keeping his voice steady and his feet on the ground despite the world starting to tilt. His legs take him to his forest rather than his quarters.

He should go there. He should go to Hugh and—

Paul shakes his head at the idea.

He loves Hugh and knows he would do anything to help Paul right now. But Paul doesn’t want Hugh to see him like this. To see him break down into an ugly, pathetic mess. Besides, he’d get himself back together after some time alone.

He finds the most isolated corner of the bay to hide away. There’s a PADD on the ground that he recognizes as his and surmises he must’ve left it there by accident. Paul sits down and grabs the PADD, flicking it on.

The images he finds crack the numb shell he hadn’t realized encased him. The cracks deepen and spread until chunks fall off. A bitter, devastating pain washes over him. He’s unaware of the hot tears streaking down his cheeks or the sobs clogging his throat.

The only thing Paul is aware of is the gaping, bleeding, invisible wound his best friend’s death inflicted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh was surprised and worried when he didn’t find Paul in their quarters. He had meant to meet Paul in the shuttle bay when they returned, but an emergency popped up. It wasn’t bad, though it did detain Hugh by a few hours.

If he’s not here, he’s in his lab or forest. Hugh calmly walked to Engineering despite wanting to sprint there. Neither of them had experienced this kind of loss while they’d been together. Hugh had no idea how Paul would handle this.

Hugh knew Paul and Justin were like brothers, loyalty and camaraderie buried under layers of snark and banter. They pushed and needled each other with encouragement, not malice.

He enters and sees Tilly and Michael at a computer station combing through what they salvaged from the Glenn. No sign of Paul, though.

“Dr. Culber, is something the matter?” Michael asks.

He smiles reassuringly and tries to act casual. Very few people on the ship knew he and Paul were partners. Paul wanted to keep it that way so no one, particularly Lorca, could use their relationship against them. Hugh understood, but it still hurt that he couldn’t hold Paul’s hand or kiss him in public.

“No, I wondered if you have seen Pa—Lieutenant Stamets.”

If either of them thinks it’s odd he’s asking for Paul, they say nothing. Tilly points to the spore bay, “I saw him go in there; he said he needs to be alone.”

I bet he did, Hugh thinks worriedly. Paul always isolated himself when he was deeply upset or hurt. “Thank you, Tilly. Maybe you two should call it quits for tonight; it’s getting late.”

Tilly nibbles her lip, “The captain will probably want us to finish sorting through the data logs.”

“True, but sleep is more important, and those logs will still be here in the morning,” he reasoned.

“He has a point,” Michael agreed. “And we will accomplish nothing by unnecessarily working ourselves to exhaustion.”

Tilly reluctantly accepts that, and the pair dismiss their work and bid Hugh goodnight. He keeps the professional, calm façade until they’re gone and rushes to the spore bay doors. As a doctor, he can use a medical override to get inside, which he does. Hugh doesn’t have time to admire the lush forest or the serene calm it usually brings. His eyes quickly scan the area, and his ears are attune to the slightest sound.

He walks up and down the rows, looking all around until he gets to the far end of the bay. There, tucked in the corner behind a condenser unit, is Paul. Hugh feels his heart break for how small and vulnerable his partner looks. Paul seems asleep, sitting on the ground with his arms and legs curled around his body and leaning against the wall. His face is paler than normal, making his redden eyes and tear tracks stand out.

Oh, Paul…

Hugh steps closer but stops when his foot nudges a discarded PADD. He picks it up, and for a moment, thinks it might only be work. Busying himself with work when upset was Paul’s go-to, after all. The device flickers on, and he sees it isn’t work at all, but pictures.

The first is Paul and Justin sitting on either side of a campfire at night, mountains barely visible behind them. Paul is smiling and looking at Justin, who looks like he’s in the middle of telling a good joke.

Hugh swipes to the next image. The two friends are standing beside each other in their lab, both covered in dirt. Paul has his arms crossed and glaring ahead while Justin grins broadly with his elbow perched on Paul’s shoulder.

Hugh swipes again, and it’s a group picture of the whole lab team. He recognizes some faces like Harrington and Pax, others he remembers vaguely from his trips to Deneva. Hugh remembers watching Paul patiently instruct some younger members on differentiating Earth and Devenvan mushrooms.

Justin stood by Hugh, watching Paul, and shook his head fondly. “Sometimes that man is more fit for a classroom than a lab. And I know he likes it even if he won’t admit it.”

Hugh had agreed and felt love and pride awash his heart as he watched Paul. The memory of those golden days fades, and Hugh sets the PADD aside with a quiet sigh. He sat beside Paul and gently shook his shoulder. The floor was no place to sleep, especially with a perfectly good bed nearby.

“Paul? Sweetheart?”

Paul stirred and tiredly rubbed his eyes with one hand. He blinks, slowly becoming aware again, “Hugh?”

Hugh slides his hand down Paul’s back, “Hey, are you… alright?”

It’s a stupid question, and Hugh can’t imagine Paul being anything close after recently losing his best friend. He almost expects Paul to wave off his concern and say he’s fine, but Paul doesn’t. He tightly wraps his arms around himself and curls inward like he’s in physical pain.

Paul swallows hard, “Justin’s dead.”

It doesn’t sound like a question; more like Paul is trying to accept the fact by saying it out loud.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Hugh murmurs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hugh’s gentle voice and touch bring Paul back to reality, and the increasing pain of his grief settling over him. His tears have been spent, but his body shudders like he’s still crying. Paul is vaguely aware of Hugh talking to him and his hand soothingly stroking his back.

Paul closes his eyes, and he sees blood and grotesquely mangled bodies. He stifles a cry and tightly grips his hair with one hand. My fault. I knew something was wrong. Why didn’t I say anything? They’re all dead, everyone’s dead….

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You couldn’t have known this would happen,” Hugh gently counters.

Paul hadn’t realized he said that out loud. He feels Hugh carefully pry his fingers from his hair and intertwines them with his. Hugh wraps his free arm around Paul’s shoulders, drawing him close, and Paul tucks his head in the crook of Hugh’s neck.

“They’re gone. Everyone is,” Paul’s words are cut off by a ragged sob from an already raw throat.

Hugh kisses his hair, “I know, love. I’m so sorry.”

There is nothing Hugh can say to stop Paul’s sorrow, but he still appreciates the attempt. Everything inside him hurts. He feels hollow, with pain pulsating through him. His throat aches, his head aches, and he must look like a wreck from all the tears. What Hugh must think of him. Paul had enough issues and quirks Hugh had to deal with, and now this?

Paul shakily and reluctantly pulls himself away from Hugh. He scrubs his cheeks and mutters, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be… I’m….”

“Paul,” the gentle way Hugh said his name nearly brought Paul to tears again. He cradles his face with one hand and brings their foreheads together. “You just lost your best friend. Everyone grieves differently; let it run its course and feel whatever you need to. I’m not going to leave you, especially not now.”

A wealth of emotions settle in Paul’s throat barring him from speaking, so he nods instead. He tries to follow Hugh’s advice, but the torrent of emotions scares him. A maelstrom threatening to overtake and drown him. His breathing hitches, and he can’t help but whimper.

Hugh strokes his cheek, “Shh, I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. I know it doesn’t seem like that, and you’re hurting so much right now, but you will be okay.”

They sit there until Paul can breathe without dissolving into tears. Hugh helps him to his feet and guides him back to their quarters. Paul is ashamed he has to lean on Hugh so much, literally and figuratively. However, Hugh keeps his arm firmly wrapped around Paul and murmurs gentle reassurances.

Once inside, Hugh has him sit on the bed. Paul has no appetite and is grateful Hugh doesn’t badger him to eat something. Instead, he hands Paul a glass of water and coaxes him to drink it all. They change into their pajamas and crawl under the covers, Paul immediately curling himself around Hugh. The doctor’s presence was a soothing balm to Paul’s sore heart.

A few tears slip free, and Hugh tenderly brushes them away. Paul’s lips quirk in a brief, tremulous smile. He lost his best friend, but at least he still had Hugh.

And Paul has no idea what he’d do if he ever lost Hugh too.

Chapter Text

A sharp, ringing crack, and Paul is awake with his heart hammering. He props himself up and looks out the window with the shades drawn down halfway. It’s pitch-black outside, but he can hear the rain lashing against the window glass and the distant growl of thunder. The rain had been a gentle patter that started after he and Hugh arrived to visit Hugh’s family. Now it was a full-on storm.

Paul rubs his chest as if that could soothe his racing heart. It’s okay. It’s just noise. It’s fine. He lays down and slips himself back into Hugh’s arms. The sky briefly lights up, followed by a resounding, thunderous boom. Paul yelps and nearly jumps out of bed.

Beside him, Hugh stirs, “Paul? Wha’s wrong?”

Paul tries to sound calm, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Apparently, he wasn’t convincing because Hugh woke up a little more. “Love, you’re shaking.”

“I’m cold, that’s all.”

“Really? Because you’ve been complaining about the heat since we got here.” Hugh rests his hand on Paul’s forehead and then his cheek. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“No, I—”

Crack!

“Shit,” Paul hissed and shoved his head under the pillow.

Hugh sits up, and while Paul’s behavior is amusing, Hugh can tell something is clearly bothering him. He gently lifts the pillow, “You don’t like thunder?”

“No,” Paul defends. “I’m just… not a fan of loud, sudden, and unexpected noises.”

As if on cue Mother Nature let loose another clap of thunder. Paul’s whole body flinched at the noise, and Hugh could see small tremors in his frame. Hugh gets an idea and gently coaxes Paul out from hiding. He has Paul rest his head on Hugh’s chest right over his heart. He lays his hand over Paul’s ear, effectively silencing any outside noise.

Oh. Paul only hears his lover’s heartbeat and breathing. The tortuous thunder outside doesn’t register, and Paul starts to relax. Hugh softly scratches Paul’s scalp, and the blond nearly purrs.

“Better?” Hugh asks.

Paul nods and wraps his arm snugly around Hugh. He feels a kiss pressed to his hair and smiles, feeling safe and loved.

Chapter Text

“Is it too late to back out?”

Hugh pats Paul’s hand, which is tightly gripping his. “You’ll be fine, love.”

He takes only a few steps into the waiting room when he’s suddenly jerked back. Paul’s free hand is gripping the doorframe, and his feet are firmly planted. He looks like a recalcitrant dog refusing to go in the vet’s office.

“Paul.”

“No, I take it back. I can’t do this.”

Hugh gently tugs his hand as if that could dislodge his reluctant partner. “Paul, you promised.”

“I know and I’m sorry, but I really can’t do this, Hugh. Please don’t make me do this.”

The apprehension on Paul’s face and the quiet fear seeping into his voice makes Hugh pause. They have a few minutes before Paul’s appointment, so maybe Hugh can calm him down by then. He leads him to the hallway, and Paul immediately breaks for the exit. Hugh stands in front of him and grips his arms.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Please, Hugh, I can’t I—”

Hugh cups the back of Paul’s neck and rests their foreheads together. “Hey, take a breath. Can you tell me why you think you can’t do this?”

Paul looks at the ground, but he leans into Hugh’s touch. “I’m fine. My problems aren’t worth therapy. I’ve passed my psych evals and I’m working just fine.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between surviving and living. You’ve been doing the former for a while now, and so have I. We’ve both been through a lot, and we both need help. I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I didn’t think it wouldn’t help you.”

“I’m fine,” Paul weakly denies.

Hugh gently strokes his cheek, “You’re having nightmares again, trouble sleeping, and more distracted. The idea of Adira or I being off the ship without you still sends you into a panic. And I know there are scars from the war that haven’t healed. Or those from when Justin and then I died. I can see your still hurting, sweetheart, and I think she can help you better than I can.”

“I’m afraid… how much it’ll hurt talking about it. That I’ll be forced to face everything,” Paul shakes his head, “and… I can’t.”

Hugh sympathized. Facing past trauma and pain was terrifying, and so was accepting help from others after managing your own pain for so long. But Paul had encouraged Hugh to get help, and Hugh was grateful he had. Now it was his turn to help Paul.

“It might hurt at first, but it’ll help you in the long run. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to if it’s too much.”

Paul looks up at him, and Hugh sees reluctance and pleading in those blue eyes. Hugh wants to cave, to let Paul go back to his coping mechanisms and spare him this discomfort.

Instead, he resists and says, “How about this? You don’t have to stay for the full hour, I’d be happy if you could do half that. But, if you truly, and I mean truly, think you’re not ready, then we can cancel and try again another day.”

Paul glances at the office door, and Hugh can see his reluctance wavering. “I don’t… have to stay for the whole hour?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” he reassures.

“What if… I’m more broken than we thought. What if she thinks I’m not fit for duty? What if we’re separated and I’m put away somewhere and—”

Hugh pulls Paul in close, “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it, I promise. You are no more broken than I am. This doctor doesn’t work for Starfleet though she does treat officers. She’s kind of an outside consultant. Nothing you say will leave her office.”

Paul seems to really be thinking it over now. He rests his hand over Hugh’s and slowly exhales, “I… I’ll try.”

Relieved, Hugh draws him in for a kiss. Positive reinforcement and all, and he is proud that Paul is willing to try.

“Wow, opening my door to see two people making out is a first for me.”

Both men jump apart with a start. Standing in the office doorway is a slim Asian woman with short black hair with ends dyed bright pink. Dressed in jeans, a blouse, and a pink sheer shawl around her shoulders, looking professional but approachable.

“Paul, this is Dr. Xiuying Lu. Dr. Lu, this is my partner, Paul Stamets.”

She looks him up and down, smiling, “Tall, blond, with pretty blue eyes yeah I can see why you fell for him.”

Hugh can see Paul blush, and he feels a rush of proprietary pride in his partner being complimented.

“Come inside, and we can get started,” she waves them in.

Paul hesitates, and Hugh gently nudges his back. Paul stiffly steps inside but stops when he nears Dr. Lu’s consult room and throws Hugh a mildly panicked look.

“I’ll be waiting right out here for you, promise.”

That mollifies Paul enough to keep going. Lu smiles briefly at Hugh before closing the door. Hugh sits in an empty chair, pulls up some reading material, and waits.

Chapter Text

Paul sits at his small kitchen table, holding a slip of paper and feeling like he was at a crossroads. He came home from Alpha Centauri almost four days ago. It had been five days since he encountered the most handsome and witty man Paul had ever met.

Hugh Culber

Paul remembers snapping at the originator of the aggravating humming. His heart dropped when Culber sat beside Paul, looking amused instead of irritated at Paul’s rudeness. Paul tried to push Culber away with biting sarcasm and arrogance, but Culber dodged and parried every verbal blow while giving a few of his own.

Paul could’ve spent the whole day talking to Cul—Hugh, but the doctor was called back to the colony hospital where he was temporarily stationed. Before leaving, Hugh pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and a nice-looking ink pen (Paul thought he was the only one who still used those). He wrote his name and comm frequency and gave it to Paul.

“I’d like to talk to you again.” Hugh says with a smile that’s already made Paul’s heart stutter twice (now three times).

Paul’s confusion that Hugh wants to talk to him again must look like displeasure for Hugh adds. “Unless you have someone already?”

“No, it’s not that it’s just… I…” Paul hated admitting this, but Hugh said he liked Paul’s honesty. “I broke up with my boyfriend recently, so I’m not… looking for anyone.”

Hugh’s face softens in sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I’m not looking for anyone either; long-distance relationships aren’t easy, as I’ve learned the hard way. But I really like talking to you, so keep me in mind?”

Paul is still so confused. Why does Hugh sound hopeful that Paul will call him? Who would ever hope to get a call from him? A painfully awkward, acerbic, mushroom-obsessed workaholic? It had to be a joke, but Hugh looked earnest and hopeful…

“Sure... yeah, I… I will.”

Paul continued to stare at the paper in his hand. He could throw the paper away and pretend none of this happened. If he did, it would be better for them both in the long run. Paul knew he could be too much to deal with. Hugh would get tired of Paul eventually (nearly everyone did) or be turned off by his quirks and habits. He wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of Hugh leaving if Paul cut things off now.

So why don’t you?

Because some stupid, foolish part of him believes Hugh meant it. Paul liked talking to Hugh; he wanted to pick his brain, hear his voice, and see his smile.

Do I dare? Is the brief happiness worth the inevitable pain of Hugh leaving?

Paul hated feeling indecisive and nervous over a decision normal people wouldn’t be feeling. Maybe some happiness is better than none? Taking the bit of fleeting courage, Paul flicks his PADD on and types in Hugh’s comm frequency. Paul tries to keep his nerves together while waiting for Hugh to answer. Maybe he’d get lucky, and Hugh doesn’t answer, so Paul can hang up or leave a message.

No luck as his call is answered. Hugh looks tired, but his face lights up beautifully when he sees him.

“Paul! I was hoping you’d call.”

He was? He… really did want Paul to call? “Uh… yeah I, um ho-how are you?”

“A bit tired. I had one emergency after another today while trying to finish up my work before I’m transferred again to the USS Hood next month.”

Paul relaxes in his chair, “Yeah? What happened?”

Hugh regales him the medical dramas of the day, and Paul feels that same ease he had last time they spoke. Whatever this is, I hope it lasts.

Chapter Text

The door swishes closed, and Hugh leans against it, relieved to be back in his quarters. After two weeks of sleeping in the on-call room, returning home felt sacred. An epidemic of a new strain of Andorian flu had hit the Hood, and the medical officers had been working nonstop to contain and eradicate it. New cases finally stopped coming in, those who were ill were now stable, and those who managed not to get sick had been vaccinated for the new strain.

Hugh had only managed to talk to Paul (who’d quickly become Hugh’s favorite person) for a few minutes before being called away again. He couldn’t remember when that was, and if the siren song of his bed wasn’t so strong, he’d probably try calling Paul now. He resolved to call in the morning instead.

When Hugh started to undress, he notices the silver case on his table. Stepping closer, he saw it was addressed to him from Paul. Hugh frowned and switched on his PADD, and yep, there was a notification telling him he had a package delivered to his quarters. There was also a recorded message from Paul. With that solved, Hugh verified his identity, unlocking the case. He pulled the lid back and saw a stasis container with brown and gold swirl brownies.

Fatigue gives way to famine, and he opens the container. The dessert is already cut into neat squares, and he grabs a corner piece. Biting into it, he’s hit with sweet chocolate and creamy peanut butter. He quietly groans at the deliciousness that has graced his tongue.

Hugh was a sucker for chocolate and peanut butter. The brownie is gone in two more bites. He closes the container lest he be tempted to eat the whole batch tonight. He dusts the crumbs off his fingers and opens Paul’s attached message.

“Hi, Hugh. I hope things have calmed down for you. You looked… really tired and stressed. I know sending you brownies isn’t going to fix anything, but I hope they help you feel a little better. Take care of yourself, and I hope things get better.”

Paul sounds nervous, and Hugh can picture him blushing as he stammers out his words. Hugh found it adorable when Paul got flustered. He figured he could send a quick thank you message.

[Culber-Hugh-LT/MED] Thank you for the brownies, they’re amazing. Where did you get them?

Hugh didn’t know what time it was on Deneva, but it must be a reasonable hour for Paul’s response came quick.

[Stamets-Paul-LT/SCI] You’re welcome, and I’m glad you like them. I didn’t buy them; I made them myself using my grandmother’s recipe.

Hugh stopped and reread that sentence. Paul made these? With replicators being common, cooking by hand wasn’t necessary. Most people do so for special occasions or as a hobby. Hugh knew how attentive Paul was to everything he did. The thought that Paul put that same focus into making something for Hugh because he wanted to help Hugh feel better just… He felt an overwhelming wave of affection wash over him.

[Culber-Hugh-LT/MED] Attractive, brilliant, thoughtful, and you can cook? Anyone would be lucky to have you.

Hugh meant that last sentence to be a joke, but the more he read it, the less he was sure. Paul is undoubtably attractive. His brilliance shines through his passion when he talks about his work and his ideas about the universe being connected. The brownies proved he can be thoughtful as did the journal articles Paul sent because he thought Hugh would like reading them (which he did). So it was true that anyone would be lucky to have Paul.

[Stamets-Paul-LT/SCI] Then I guess you should count yourself lucky.

Yeah, he was lucky to have Paul as a friend. Hugh chooses to focus on that and not the little whisper asking, and nothing more than that?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Deneva’s annual summer open-air market is bustling, and it doesn’t bother Paul for once. Normally, he’d avoid crowded, noisy places whenever possible, but Hugh is here, which makes this tolerable. Stalls are packed together. Farmers selling their produce, artisans with their hand-crafted wares, and food peddlers hawking snacks and drinks.

Hugh appears relaxed and truly enjoying himself. Paul smiles a little and is still surprised that Hugh chose to spend his shore leave with Paul instead of going home to his family. Hugh explained he liked spending time with Paul and, especially when they could do so in person.

It was a touching sentiment, and Paul was now seeing Hugh was a touchy person.

A light touch on his shoulder, a tap on his arm, or Hugh’s hand on his back. The contact wasn’t unsettling, just… unexpected. Paul hated that each time Hugh unthinkingly touched him, Paul flinched away. He wasn’t used to the contact, so his brain told him to move away.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

They’ve taken a break and are resting under the shade of a large tree. Hugh doesn’t look annoyed but slightly concerned.

Paul can’t imagine why and acts innocent, “Nothing, why?”

“Because I noticed you flinch away every time I touch you, yet you haven’t said anything. You can tell me to stop or if physical contact bothers you.”

“It’s not that it’s just,” Paul looks at his feet and shrugs. “People seem to avoid touching me. Justin says I give off the same feeling as an agitated porcupine. People also don’t… seem to like me touching them.”

“Oh.”

Way to make things awkward, Paul. “It’s not a big deal, really. I don’t mind.”

Hugh gently asks, “Is it people not touching you that you don’t mind? Or me touching you?”

Both, he wants to say. Paul is used to people avoiding contact with him. Yes, it used to hurt, but he’s had years to accept that silent rejection. He’s fine. He doesn’t need it to survive or do his work, so what did it matter?

But Hugh touches him so easily and without thought, like touching Paul is normal. It felt nice how Hugh wanted to keep him near and feel him. Paul was starting to like it, and if he could get over his fear from past rejections, maybe he could touch Hugh back.

“I’m used to people not touching me, but it’s nice when you do. It’s only that I’m not used to it.”

Hugh still looks unconvinced that he hasn’t somehow hurt Paul. (And Paul has never met anyone so damned considerate about his feelings before) “Are you sure? I can always ask you if you’re okay being touched. I’m a tactile person, and it’s how I show love to those I care about.”

Paul felt his heart slightly jump when Hugh said ‘love’. Calm down. There’s more than one kind of love; it’s nothing romantic. They were friends, and Paul treasured this friendship as much as the one he had with Justin. Still… the idea of him and Hugh ever…

Paul clears his throat, “No, you don’t have to ask unless you want to. It really is okay, Hugh.”

He must finally get through to him because Hugh’s look of concern and worry vanishes. Replaced by that soft, beatific smile that Paul quickly adored.

“If you’re sure,” Hugh gently tugs Paul’s wrist. “Come on, I want to check out the Vinesian glass blowers next. I need to find a birthday gift for my mom.”

Paul happily followed, keeping close and savoring Hugh’s little touches.

Chapter Text

I could get used to this, Hugh thinks while holding a sleeping Paul.

They had planned to spend the day about town, but the cold, steady downpour outside ruined that plan. Instead, they settled for ordering food and watching movies, which was equally enjoyable. They were stretched out on Paul’s bed, and Paul had ended up in Hugh’s arms sometime during their third movie.

Paul’s head rested on Hugh’s shoulder, and his hand loosely gripped Hugh’s shirt. He brushed a strand of blond hair away; Paul looked so adorable, like a sleeping cat. Hugh knew Paul feeling safe enough to sleep so close to him was a huge sign of trust. Hugh felt honored and a deep swell of love for—

Wait.

Hugh stiffens at the thought, but Paul doesn’t move. To Hugh, love wasn’t limited to romance yet that’s the first kind of love that came to his mind when looking at Paul. Hugh can’t pinpoint when his feelings switched from friendship to romance in these last three years, only that they now have.

Sure, he gets a thrill every time Paul calls or sends him a comm. (Hugh remembers once tripping over himself to get his PADD when he saw Paul was calling. Tracy saw it all and is still laughing at him.) And he could listen to Paul talk about anything for hours. Paul had a way of making the most boring, dry topic easy to understand and vastly interesting. Paul paid rapt attention to Hugh and was a wonderful listener. Sometimes, he gave advice or let Hugh vent and then gently soothe his nerves. The way Paul checked in with Hugh and paid attention to Hugh’s needs and wants….

Oh… well damn. I guess the question now is what to do about it. Paul has given no indication that he wants more than friendship. He hasn’t dated anyone since they became friends, either. Hugh didn’t want to scare Paul away or make their friendship awkward by admitting his feelings.

Just tell him how you feel and talk it out like the adults that two you supposedly are. That sounds like Tracy and she’d be right. Nothing says he and Paul can’t still be friends even if Hugh’s feelings have developed into something deeper. He could live with friendship so long as he had Paul.

Paul stirred, stretching out his arm and arching his back. He yawned and snuggled deeper into Hugh’s side, blue eyes blearily blinking open. God, he looked so lovable.

“The movie over?” Paul mumbled.

Hugh smiled and ran his hand down Paul’s back. “Yeah, you fell asleep about two-thirds of the way in.”

“Sorry about that and I’m sorry we couldn’t go out.” Paul sighed, “I was going to show you the renovated gardens in the park and take you to this new café that opened.”

“There’s always next time. Besides, I enjoy spending time with you, no matter what we do.”

Paul smiles shyly, and Hugh feels his heart clench at the utter sweetness. “Yeah, me too.”

Hugh wonders if he should say anything about his recent emotional revelation. He doesn’t want to spoil this soft moment, though he aches to tell Paul.

“Something on your mind?” Paul asks.

Now or never. “Just, um, I like spending time with you, and I really like being with you, but... I…”

Paul sits up, looking worried. This probably sounds like a breakup to him, even though Hugh is trying to do the opposite. He remembers Paul offhandedly saying how most people didn’t like being around him for long. He sees Paul come to the likely conclusion.

Paul moves to stand from the bed, “It’s okay, Hugh. I get it, you don—"

Hugh grabs Paul’s wrist, “Wait, no. I’m not… I mean… What I’m trying to say is I like you as more than a friend. It’s okay if you don’t. I only wanted to be honest with you about how I feel.”

Paul stays seated and looks at Hugh with surprise and confusion. “Why… why would you want me? Hugh, you could easily have anyone, why me?”

Hugh can hear the self-depreciation and disbelief in Paul’s voice. He feels compelled to soothe the pain from old wounds that Paul suffered. Hugh releases Paul’s wrist and threads their fingers together. The contrast between their skin tones is beautiful.

“I don’t want anyone. I want you.” He looks into Paul’s eyes, clear blue with silver flecks that Hugh could get lost in. “You’re brilliant, engaging, and wonderfully passionate about what you love. You’re sweet and kind-hearted, even if you don’t think you are. When I’m with you, it feels like the easiest thing in the world for me.”

Paul was blushing now, and the tips of his ears started to pinken. “You… mean that?”

He sounds so painfully wary like he can’t believe Hugh is being sincere and fears this is all a trick. He squeezes Paul’s fingers, “Yes, all of it. And I meant it too that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’d still be happy just being friends.”

Paul’s eyes drift down to their joined hands. He says quietly, “And if I do? Feel the same about you, I mean.”

Hope makes Hugh’s heart speed up, and he waits for Paul to continue. “You’re my closest friend, and I don’t want to screw up what we have.”

Hugh ducks his head to catch Paul’s gaze, “I don’t see how we could since we feel the same for each other. We’ll take it slow and figure it out as we go, okay?”

Paul lifts his head, eyes now filled with budding hope and trust, and nods. “Okay.”

“Maybe the next time I have shore leave, we can go to a nice restaurant or something?”

Paul smiles, amused. “Asking me out on a date already?”

“I figured since I have you here already….”

Paul chuckles and rests his head against Hugh’s, “I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

“Oh, what the hell?!” Paul swore.

He paced around his quarters, PADD in hand (he couldn’t quite give up the feel of physically holding something to read or work off). Hugh wasn’t home yet, but Paul hoped he’d come soon. Today had been trying, and he’d made the mistake of checking his messages, aggravated him further.

Tarka had stolen and destroyed the only working pathway drive, the schematics, and related notes. The lead scientist on recreating the device curtly ordered Paul to give over any new research regarding the spore drive. Paul’s offer to actively help with the rebuild was bluntly rejected because Paul didn’t have the necessary qualifications for such a project.

Paul tosses the PADD on the bed and runs his hand roughly through his hair. The pathway drive is based on his invention! They’ll take your research, but they won’t take you. You’re an outdated fossil to them. Your knowledge is nine centuries out of date. What hope do you have of catching up? I’m such an idiot…

Paul resumes pacing and rubs his knuckles together, an unconscious habit that usually soothes him. It wasn’t enough. Irritation simmered in his chest as his thoughts became more self-critical. He raked his nails across his wrist and the backs of his hands. The pain helped, and he scratched harder and harder and—

Someone suddenly grabs his hands, and an arm wraps around his waist, pinning him to a broad, firm chest. Paul’s first reaction is to get away, but this person’s hold on him tightens.

“Easy there, sweetheart.”

Hugh.

Paul stills. When did he come in?

Hugh carefully loosens his hold while still keeping his arm around Paul. He gently grasps Paul’s hand and kisses his knuckles. He sees the angry red scratches on Paul’s hands and wrists.

He frowns and looks at Paul with concern, “What happened?”

Paul wants to say, ‘I’m fine,’ but the words stick in his throat. Damn it, of all times for me to lose my voice. It only happened when he was emotionally exhausted, overly frustrated, or deeply upset. He once went four days unable to talk when grieving over Hugh. Paul buries his face in the crook of Hugh’s neck, hoping his partner will understand.

“Can’t talk?” Hugh guesses.

Paul nods: Hugh hums in understanding and gently rubs his back. “Rough day?”

Another nod. Paul is once again deeply grateful to have someone who knows him so well without Paul having to say anything. He feels shame along with gratitude, hating himself for being… like this and making Hugh take care of him when he already takes care of everyone else. Why can’t Paul be normal? He can be such a needy burden, a drain on others, a hindrance. That’s why he was denied helping with the drive and—

“Hey,” Hugh’s soft voice interrupts Paul’s internal monologue. “Don’t do that.”

Paul wonders what he means when he realizes how tense his muscles are. His body curled inward, and his nails digging into his palms. Hugh slowly swipes his thumb across Paul’s hands, and his other hand gently scratches his hair. The gentle touches help Paul relax his posture and sink into Hugh’s embrace.

Paul tries to apologize for being difficult, but he can’t get anything more than a hoarse croak out. He huffs in frustration, and Hugh chuckles warmly.

“It’s alright, love. Your voice will come back with time.”

He nuzzled Hugh’s neck and freed one arm to wrap around him. He loves this man so much and wishes he could say it, but showing would have to do.

Hugh kisses his temple, “I love you too.”

Paul’s PADD pings with a new message and nearly groans. Whoever it is can wait. Can’t he have a moment of peace after the day he had? He reluctantly detaches himself from Hugh and grabs the PADD.

[Tal-Adira-ENS/SCI] Can Gray and I come over and watch a holo with you guys or something?

Paul could never say no to their kids, and a quiet night together did sound nice. Hugh reads over his shoulder and looks at Paul, silently asking what he wants. Paul nods, and Hugh pecks his cheek.

“Dinner and a movie sounds good.”

[Stamets-Paul-CMD/SCI] Yes, we’ll have dinner ready when you get here.

[Tal-Adira-ENS/SCI] Gray: Good ‘cause Adira said you looked pretty rough today and was worried.

Had he? He hadn’t meant to worry them and thought he kept his growing stress and irritation hidden. Paul brushes that aside; nothing he could really do about that except show Adira he’s better now. He and Hugh change into comfortable clothing. Paul grabs some spare pillows and Hugh replicates a tray of finger foods and snacks.

The kids arrive and Gray doesn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable on the couch and starts chatting with Hugh. Paul moves to join them, but Adira snags his sleeve, stopping him.

“Are you… I mean today you looked upset, and… I—we wanted to help you feel better. I mean we can still leave i-if you want, but um…” Adira stumbles.

Paul shakes his head and pulls them against his side with one arm. He still can’t talk, but Adira seems to get the message that he does want them here. Paul sits on the couch with Hugh curled against his right side. Adira on his left and Gray laying down with his head on Adira’s lap and his hand resting on Paul’s knee. He rests his head against Hugh’s, feeling calmed and loved.

Chapter Text

Captain Underwood stood at the head of the table, arms crossed and looking displeased. She had a steel spine with a calm, firm personality. Justin found her fun to tease and actually liked her.

“It’s been a month, and you still haven’t made any substantial progress in your damn mushroom experiments.”

Most of the time.

“Well, maybe if Starfleet had been smart and kept Paul and me together,” Justin muttered.

She still heard him, “Quiet Lieutenant, haven’t you ever heard of divide and conquer?”

“Pretty sure they mean divide your enemy, not your allies.”

“Oh, are you a philosopher of war now?” Quipped First Officer Timoti.

Underwood sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, “I don’t have time for an episode of witty banter between you two. The only saving grace is that we’re performing slightly ahead of Discovery, which I’m sure is eating at Lorca.”

How she said his name made Justin feel like she wanted to tack on a few expletives. He felt sympathy for Paul, and he was probably taking the brunt of Lorca’s irritation. The captain was an unyielding hard ass from what Justin heard, not just from Paul but others who encountered the man.

“Captain!” A panicked shout came over the comm.

“What is it, Forson?”

“There’s, well… some kind of large creature, and it’s trying to eat the spores we have in the storage unit.”

Justin shot to his feet, “What?!”

“Is it host—Lieutenant, get back here!” But he was already out the door before she could finish her order.

He sprinted down the halls to the storage unit housing their freeze-dried spore containers. Losing all their supply would set them back weeks. They only had a small garden to grow fresh samples, and while they could get more from Discovery, freeze-drying was a painstaking process. It had to be done right, or the spores would be rendered useless, and only a few people on the ship were qualified to do it.

People were scattered at the edge of the spacious room, both his team and Security, hiding behind crates and storage containers. Some had phasers drawn and ready and as they all watched.

Holy sweet mother of—!

Justin quickly dove behind a large steel crate, which his friend and team member Ruby hid behind. He carefully peeked behind his refuge and looked at the massive creature rooting around the stored spores.

“That actually looks like… a tardigrade.”

“A tardigrade?” Ruby asked doubtfully. “They’re supposed to be microscopic, not macroscopic!”

“Considering the scope of the universe, he would be counted as microscopic.” He watched the lumbering animal, and fear gave way to fascination. “I’ve got an idea, but if it doesn’t work please don’t tell Paul I died doing something stupid.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the only way he thinks you’re going to die, by doing something stupid.”

Justin consented to her point and carefully inched closer to the alien tardigrade. If the beast was bothered by his encroaching presence, it gave no sign. It carried on its merry way, tearing through containers with its claws.

“Hey there, big guy… er girl? Looking for a snack?”

The tardigrade finally turned its attention to Justin, making him and everyone else in the room freeze. It didn’t move to attack him but seemed to regard him with the same curiosity being regarded to it. After a few tense seconds, it resumed its search for food. Oddly, it wasn’t eating any of the spores it managed to free. Instead, it nudged them around, huffed, and went back to looting.

Justin loudly whispered over his shoulder, “Ruby go get a canister of unfrozen spores. I’ve got another idea.”

“You and your damn ideas are going to get us all killed,” she muttered grabbing a canister and gently rolling it over to him.

Without taking his eyes off the tardigrade, Justin opened the canister, poured out the spores, and carefully backed away. The animal squealed and happily frolicked among the glowing specks. It then rubbed its body against Justin’s legs like a pleased cat.

Ruby walked up beside him, watching the spores and tardigrade with wonder, “I’ve never seen the spores act like this before.”

“Me neither,” Justin smiled as excitement spread through him. “It’s almost… like they’re talking to each other.”

“Symbiotic, do you think?”

“Not sure yet,” he looked down at the spoiled half-frozen spores on the ground. “But it might explain why it didn’t like the spores in those containers. It needed something fresh.”

“So this thing is connected to your mushrooms?”

Both scientists whipped around in surprise at Captain Underwood’s voice. She stood behind them, arms crossed and looking at the animal with a cool, calculating gaze.

Justin did not like that look.

Chapter Text

It’s not the ambush that surprised Paul. It’s how sloppy it was executed.

Which brainless, upstart idiot here thought attacking him and Hugh simultaneously was a good idea? It was no secret that the Emperor ordered him and Hugh to work on a new bioweapon together. So them walking out of Paul’s lab together wasn’t unusual.

What was unusual was walking right into a group of five young people with their weapons out and eager, ambitious bloodlust in their eyes. Yes, he and Hugh held positions of power. But they held those positions for a reason, as these fools were about to find out.

Trying to kill two birds with one stone, perhaps? Paul muses as he dodges a swinging knife. Paul isn’t one for physical fighting and killing, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how.

Hugh made sure of that.

“Think of it as giving me peace of mind.” Hugh’s touch is unthinkably gentle and warm as he corrects Paul’s stance from behind.

Speaking of whom… Paul pauses a moment to let his eyes jump to Hugh. The man is practically dancing circles around his two opponents. Effortlessly toying with them without drawing out his knife or scalpel. Paul can see how it’s angering the attackers, and he struggles not to smirk with pride. By not drawing his weapons, Hugh is saying they are so beneath him they aren’t worth dirtying his blades. Hugh can kill easily enough with his bare hands anyway.

Paul sees a flash of metal and curses himself for getting distracted. He’s disarmed and sharply steps back before the knife can strike him. Armor was all well and good, but it didn’t make you invulnerable. Paul steps closer to Hugh and swiftly grabs the knife he knows Hugh keeps in his boot.

“Hey!” Hugh says indignantly.

“What? You’re not using it,” Paul retorts.

He rams the knife into the throat of one of the wannabe attackers. She goes down, but the knife is stuck, and Paul can’t pull it free. Shit. Paul dodges a dagger that would’ve sliced his aorta. Paul slips his hand in the space between Hugh’s armor, feeling along his side for the stiletto dagger he knows is there.

“Trying to cop a feel?” Hugh asks with a lascivious smirk.

Paul snorts, hoping his blush isn’t showing, “Hardly and especially not with an audience trying to kill us.”

His fingers grip the handle, and he frees the blade from its sheath. Only to thrust it up through the underside of a young man’s chin and into his brain. The whelp falls to the ground in a lifeless heap. A third attacker charges at Paul and—

A red-clad arm shoots out near Paul’s head from behind and lodges a knife between the attacker’s eyes. Paul notes a matching arm around his waist and sighs with some annoyance.

“I had him.”

“Sure you did,” Hugh purrs, his lips close to Paul’s ear.

If Paul could, he’d take Hugh here and now. The man looked gorgeous, poised, yet powerful. His dark eyes are heavy with sated bloodlust and now craving something carnal.

“You recognize any of them?” Hugh asks, toeing the nearest body.

They don’t look like Lorca’s people. Besides, he was still useful to Lorca; the man wouldn’t kill him yet. “No, you?”

Hugh shakes his head. There was a long list of people who would want both or either of them dead. Murder was the only way to move up in the ranks. So either someone paid these idiots to kill them and take their rank, or they acted on their own. If it’s the latter, Paul will at least give them props for being ballsy.

Hugh takes Paul’s chin in hand and turns his head. He lightly runs his gloved thumb over a small cut on Paul’s jaw, and Paul suppresses a wince.

Paul notices Hugh’s eyes soften slightly, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He allows Hugh to lead him away when movement catches Paul’s eye. One of the attackers manages to stagger to his feet, knife in hand, aimed at Hugh.

“Watch out!”

He shoves Hugh out of the way, and the knife rakes down Paul’s arm instead. Paul punches his nose and rips the knife from his lax grip, driving it into his neck. Hot, sticky blood flows freely from the gaping neck wound, and the man drops dead.

Paul smirks at Hugh’s surprise, “Had him, did you?”

Hugh rolls his eyes, “The bastard must’ve been playing dead. Not my fault.”

“Weren’t you the one to lecture me on ensuring your opponent is dead before walking away?”

“Well, he’s dead now,” Hugh kicks the body for emphasis.

“Yeah,” Paul sheaths the knife. Finders keepers, after all. The adrenaline is fading, leaving his aches and pains to make themselves known and reminding him he isn’t young anymore. This is why I stick with poisons. Much less exhausting. “Get the slaves to clean this up. I need a bath.”

Hugh does so, and the pair walk back to Paul’s quarters since his are the closest. Once they’re inside, Paul engages half a dozen security locks. He moves to the bathroom, where Hugh pulls out the medical kit. Always the doctor, Paul thinks.

They carefully undress each other, removing armor, weapons, and clothing. Hugh gently washes away the drying blood on Paul’s arm and runs a regen across the cut, leaving a thin pale line behind. Hugh’s bare hands on his exposed skin is scintillating. They exchange small, reverent touches as they heal each other, as if reminding themselves the other is still alive.

Hugh inclines his head to the bathtub filled with steaming water, and Paul nods. They slip into the tub, Paul nestled between Hugh’s legs and resting against his chest. Paul never relaxes, not completely, but this is as close as he gets. Hugh tucks his arms around Paul with a hint of possession.

You are mine. No one is allowed to hurt you, the gesture says.

Paul kisses his cheek. Nor is anyone allowed to hurt you, or we will make them pay. Always.

Chapter Text

Paul can’t remember the last time he was this happy and content… well, outside the bedroom at least. He sat on a bench watching Adira and Tilly. The two were leaning over a fence at the edge of the Seine River, pointing out landmarks and talking. Hugh was busy grabbing food for them from a street vendor.

Paul had been concerned about how he’d feel returning to Paris since the last time was for the award ceremony after the Klingon war and Hugh’s death. But Adira had their heart set on coming here to their birth country and Paul couldn’t bring himself to say no. Hugh, the wonderfully thoughtful and understanding man, kept close to Paul, holding his hand or staying within Paul’s sight.

“Those kids yours?”

Paul starts and whips around to see a young woman sitting beside him. She had a round face, softly curled chin-length black hair, and gray eyes. Blue and silver spiral earrings swung from her ears when she inclined her head to Adira and Tilly.

“Oh, yeah. Not by blood, though, my partner and I adopted them,” He explained. Technically it was half true since they legally adopted Adira, but Tilly was figuratively adopted. “You? Any kids?”

Her eyes become sad but her smile doesn’t falter, “Just one.” Her eyes flick to Adira and Tilly, “They do grow up fast, though.”

Pual follows her gaze and finds himself agreeing. He remembers the nieces and nephews he and Hugh shared and how quickly they grew. He can almost understand why Chelsea complained about her children growing up so fast. It was an honor to witness them grow but also saddening. Someday, they would leave to have adventures on their own and follow their separate paths (Tilly already was). They might even form families of their own one day.

“Yeah. I just hope I’m doing enough for them. My own parents weren’t the best, and I’m trying to be better than they were. I have no idea if I am. Most of the time, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Paul didn’t know why he was being so chatty with this stranger. Something about her felt… familiar and made him feel safe.

Her smile warms and she leans closer as if sharing a secret. “If it helps, no parent knows what they’re doing. But as long as you love them for who they are, encourage them, and be patient, you’ll be fine.”

Paul glances at the ground and reluctantly agrees. All of that sounded good, but Paul didn’t know if he was fulfilling those tasks. There was no measurement or boxes to check off to know he was parenting right.

“Paul, for what it’s worth, you and Hugh are great fathers. Don’t over think it, and you’ll be fine.”

He nods and then stops. He… never gave her his name or Hugh’s, so how…? “What, how do you…?”

The woman is gone. The only thing there is one of her earrings; Paul picks it up, feeling very confused. Hugh returns carrying four stuffed crêpes wrapped in wax paper. Adira and Tilly rush over and grab theirs.

“Where’d you get that earring?” Tilly asks while biting into her snack.

“I… uh found it.”

Adira’s brows furrow as they study the jewelry. “That looks a lot like the earring I remember my mom wearing.”

Paul feels himself blanch and looks at the innocuous earring. He fights to stay calm, “Really? Then you should have it.”

He hands it to Adira, who looks it over with Tilly while munching away on their treats. Paul takes a bite of his but hardly tastes anything.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Hugh asks, sitting beside Paul. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I just did,” Paul swallowed.

Chapter Text

“Stamets, calm down. I know fretting is your default state, but seriously, chill out,” Reno half-heartedly orders.

Paul stops pacing, though he’s still fidgeting with his hands. “I’m not fretting. I’m fine.”

Reno snorts, “You’re wearing a hole in the floor with all your pacing. What’s got you so wound up?”

He knows he hasn’t done such a thing, but he will admit to being a teeny bit nervous. “Aside from me finally marrying the man I’ve been in love with for fifteen years?”

“Besides that.”

Paul’s hands still, “I never… We never thought we’d get here. We’ve wanted this for so long, and now that it’s happening, I’m scared something is going to… intervene. First, it was the war, then Hugh dying, us coming to the future, Osyraa, the Ten-C, and I just… want today to go well. No universe-ending threats, no mishaps, just one day of peace for us.”

Reno was silent for a moment, and then she nodded. “I get that. The universe has thrown a lot of shit at you two.” She adjusts the lapels of his coat, “At minimum, the universe owes you this much. Just try and relax; everything will be fine.”

Paul tried to believe her, but anxious energy still thrummed in him. He smooths his hands over his suit coat, a deep navy with a matching tie and boutonniere of light blue flowers. He and Hugh opted to wear suits and not dress uniforms. They wanted to get married as Paul and Hugh, not Lieutenant Commanders Stamets and Culber.

Reno wore a suit, too, but in pale blue. She agreed to be a bridesmaid, but only if she could wear pants. Paul agreed and admitted that Reno did clean up nicely. There was a hesitant knock on the door.

“Is it safe to come in?” Adira asks.

Paul rolls his eyes, and Reno chuckles. As if seeing Paul undressed was the worst thing Adira was at risk of ever seeing.

“Yes, Adira, it’s safe.”

Adira comes in with Tilly following, and Paul feels a rush of joy at how nice they both look. Adira wore a pantsuit like Reno, but their jacket was cut so from behind it looked like Adira was wearing a dress. Tilly wore a long dress with short sleeves, and blue flowers worked into her hair. She looked misty-eyed and carefully dabbed away a tear.

“Sorry, sir, you just… I’m really happy for you both and Hugh looks great, and so do you. And thank you so much for letting me be a part of this and do I look okay? I mean, I’ve never been in a wedding before, and I…” Tilly rambled.

Paul smiled and put his hands on her arms, “You look perfect. Of course, we would have you in the wedding; we wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

Tilly threw her arms around him, and Paul happily returned the embrace. Paul noticed Adira standing awkwardly to the side, and he lifted his arm, a silent invitation for them to join in. Adira accepted, wrapping their arms around him and Tilly.

Reno chuckled and slapped Paul’s back, “Come on, Stamets, let’s get you hitched. ‘Bout time the Doc made an honest man out of you.”

Paul tried to appear calm while everyone got into place. The guests were already seated, and Saru stood at the end of the aisle. The church pastor had been kind enough to secede performing the ceremony to Saru. As a captain, he had the authority to officiate any marriages among the crew on or off the ship. He wore the dress uniform with some formal Kelpian accessories. Paul saw him and President T’Rina subtly eyeing each other.

Oh, huh. I guess Hugh wasn’t kidding about them.

The church was still the same one he and Hugh had planned on marrying in centuries ago. Though it’d been rebuilt and redesigned multiple times over the years, the wide windows still gave a beautiful view of the ocean. Getting married in Puerto Rico instead of a holosuite version of the church meant the world to Hugh. It also gave people who had never been to Earth, like Aurellio and Booker, a chance to visit.

Paul saw Aurellio and his family in a pew; there was Admiral Vance and his wife. Their daughter, Celeste, had quickly agreed to be their flower girl when they asked her. The Bridge crew, Engineering, Medical, more people than Paul expected came.

“Everyone get in place. Reno, do you have the rings?” Tracy orders.

Reno pulls out two rings from inside her jacket. One is gold with a band of silver scrollwork in the middle, and the other is the inverse, silver with gold. “Right here.”

Tracy herded everyone into place. She and Reno would lead, followed by Tilly and Pax, Adira and Gray, Harrington and Pembroke, and lastly, Celeste. Paul stood at the very end, nervously gripping his fingers. Hugh hadn’t shown up yet, and they would walk down together. They hadn’t seen each other since last night’s reception dinner.

Did he get cold feet? Did something happen to him? Did he—

“Nervous?”

Paul’s gaze snaps up and… oh.

Hugh looked absolutely dashing. The white suit fit Hugh perfectly, accenting his slim waist and broad shoulders. Small diamond earrings sparkled in his ears, but those paled to the shy, bright smile Hugh was giving him.

“You look… wow,” Paul breathes.

Hugh’s smile widens, “You look amazing yourself.”

The music starts, the guests rise, and the wedding party starts walking down the aisle.

Paul watches and shakily exhales, “We’re finally doing it.”

“Yeah. Hey,” Paul looks to Hugh. “Wherever we go from here...”

Hugh offers him his hand, and Paul takes it with no hesitation.

Paul smiles and finishes, “We go together.”

And they would. They had. Through life, death, time and space, all of it.

Together.