Work Text:
Aftermath
Hugh looked at the readout in dismay.
Dermal scar: broken.
Left pectoral muscle: torn in the centre. Right where the fresh fibres had been.
The grafts in two ribs: splintered.
Pleural cavity: narrow fissure which, had he not transported him back to sickbay when he did, would likely have turned into a full blown rupture again.
At least the pericardium and lungs were stable, and the regenerated tissue there not under any threat.
Things could have been worse, but still.
Barely six hours after he had brought Paul out of the medically induced coma, he had to cut away a blood stained uniform again and was figuring out how to best mend this chest.
Hugh jabbed the hypo against pale skin, possibly with a little more force than was at all necessary. Paul had the good grace not to complain about it.
The instant panic Hugh had felt when he had seen him lying in that Jefferies Tube was giving way to a deep sense of frustration now that he knew his partner's life wasn't in immediate danger.
What the hell had Paul been thinking?
Hugh had only just brought him back from the brink of death, and he acted like it was nothing. Did he really have so little regard for his life, and for Hugh's heart?
He thought they had already been through this when Paul had injected himself with the tardigrade DNA, and later had kept the headaches and glimpses of that other universe to himself.
How many more times would Hugh have to stand here and patch him up, praying to a god he didn't believe in that somehow Paul would come out of his latest stunt alive, and himself?
“Are you angry with me?” Paul's voice was subdued. Small and almost hesitant.
Isn't it obvious?
“Yes,” Hugh answered instead.
He hadn't spoken a word ever since he had helped Paul onto a thankfully free biobed and started his routine, and he didn't feel like talking now either as he stopped the bleeding and made to sterilise the re-opened wound. Paul flinching, however, had him look up from his work.
Had the scan missed anything? The neuroblocker should ensure that he wasn't in any pain. Was he hurt somewhere else? Already he reached for the tricorder, when he happened to actually look at Paul.
What he saw knocked the wind out of his system, and for a moment he felt like he didn't know how to breathe.
Paul was terrified.
Not like he was in the tube, when he knew he was injured once again, in a ship without a functioning transport that was about to be crushed to pieces. That fear had been a purely physical response to his condition – his body sounding the alarm bells that Paul all too often loved to ignore. This one though, right now, was different.
It took Hugh a long second to match the look on his face, the way his brows furrowed like he wanted to recoil along with them, and the expression in his eyes with a memory. And when he found it, everything inside him broke.
Only once had he seen Paul similarly distraught, although back then there was confusion added where now instead Paul looked scared.
It had been during their big fight. The one that had ended everything for a while.
Had he hurt Paul so deeply that every time he was irritated now, Paul thought he'd leave him behind again?
Paul shivered ever so slightly, although Hugh couldn't tell whether that was due to the cool air or his emotions. Quickly adjusting the bed's temperature anyway, he set aside his instruments, and sighed. He could spare this one moment, he figured.
“Paul? Look at me.”
His voice was deliberately soft. Blue eyes locked with brown. And Hugh's heart went out to him.
What had he done?
“Yes, I'm angry with you, but not like that.” His right hand found its way to a bare shoulder, gently cupping it and if his thumb stroked across soft skin it was a motion Hugh wouldn't suppress.
“You've got to stop doing this to me.”
Paul's head tilted. He listened. Good.
“When I returned from Enterprise, I thought I'd either die with you in this battle, or make sure the two of us would work things out. I wanted to go to you as soon as we'd be in the clear. Then you came in here, and Paul,” his voice wavered. He swallowed. This was not what he had planned to do, not while bones and muscle and skin needed mending after all, but Paul had to understand.
“I was so scared. Back when you were trapped in the network I could at least hope that you would wake up again, that we'd figure out what was wrong and fix it. But this time?”
Somewhere in another corner of sickbay an alarm sounded, but it was quickly seen to by one of the nurses.
“Your injuries were so severe, I didn't know if you would make it. You almost didn't.”
The memory of Paul lying there, closer to death than to life, were still fresh in his mind and he tried his best not to be overwhelmed by them.
“When I noticed you had left the regeneration chamber after just this one cycle I thought you'd be sensible for once and only do some supervising, but maybe I should have known better. I saw you in that tube and it was all there again. I had to calm you down and see you through because that was the only way I could help you, but all I could think of was that your heart had almost failed when I removed the shrapnel.”
Suddenly tired, Hugh closed his eyes. He hadn't slept in over a day and the stress he'd been under started to make itself known.
“Please, Paul. You've got to stop frightening me like that. Just for some time, okay? I am angry, yes, but that's because I'm worried about you.”
His own shoulders slumped then and he felt more exhausted than he had, at times, during the war.
“I can't lose you. Not when I just remembered who I am.”
I'm your family.
“Please.”
Wherever we go from here, I want us to go together.
There was a moment of silence, then: “I'm sorry, Hugh.”
A warm hand lifted to curl around the one that still had not detached from Paul's skin. And when Hugh opened his eyes again it was to recognise understanding in a pale blue gaze, and a heavy weight lifted. He didn't think he had dispelled every doubt that seemed to linger in Paul's mind, and there would be so much left to talk about, but for now he'd made him see.
“Promise me you will take it slow from here?”
He might have sounded plaintive, but he didn't care.
Paul's lips bent in a small but genuine smile.
“Five cycles, and I'll let Reno do the dirty work next time. Promised.”
Despite himself, Hugh huffed out a laugh. Leave it to Paul to turn the mood like this.
“And Hugh?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.” He didn't say anything else, but Hugh knew anyway.
Thank you for saving my life. Again. And for returning.
He leaned over some, brushing his lips against Paul's in the gentlest kind of kiss.
“Always.” It was but a murmur, yet Paul heard it. Then he reclined to resume his work on his impossible patient. He still had a job to do after all.
“Now lie still. And tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”
“Yes, dear doctor.”
Hugh froze, his eyes on Paul who finally relaxed – trusting him, and feeling perfectly safe. He hadn't heard this in what felt like a lifetime. And while another piece of himself slotted back into place, Hugh worked in comfortable silence until all that was left was for the regeneration chamber to finish the healing.