New Fic: Torchbearer

[jackwabbit]

Torchbearer

Fandom: Star Trek Discovery
Rated: PG
Category: Culmets. RickyVerse. Angst. Angst with a Happy Ending. Emotional Hurt/Comfort.
Word Count: 1319
Time Frame: Post Season Two, Pre Season Three.
Spoilers: General Series Knowledge Only – Through Season Two.
Summary: You can’t fix a problem you can’t see. Good thing Paul and Hugh have someone to help light their way.
Note: Another Ricky story, because I just can’t help myself.

-----

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

Hugh doesn’t answer, so Paul puts down the PADD he’s been reading and walks to the bedroom, a look of mild concern on his face.

When he gets there, he finds Hugh sitting on the bed, back toward him and head down. It’s clear Hugh’s holding something, but Paul can’t quite see what it is. It’s certainly not the pillow he’d come to grab because his hip was sore from sitting too long on the couch. As Paul walks around the bed, he ducks his head to look. When he sees the object, his shoulders slump slightly.

“Oh,” he mumbles.

Hugh looks up then, his face a mixture of hurt and confusion and something Paul can’t identify.

“You kept him?”

Paul sighs, sitting next to Hugh but leaving space between them.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Hugh shakes his head a little. “No, it’s okay. I just… why?”

Paul scoffs. “Honestly? I didn’t mean to.”

“What do you mean?” asks Hugh, more puzzled now than anything.

Paul looks away, cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

“Paul?” prompts Hugh.

Paul blinks a few times and sniffs once, then speaks in a rough voice, still not looking at Hugh.

“When I… when you… when you packed your stuff. He was in the bed. And, um, out of sight, out of mind, I guess?”

Hugh nods sadly.

“Yeah…” he breathes.

Paul nods. “Yeah,” he echoes.

It’s silent for a moment, then Paul continues.

“I found him that night, under the blankets. You know I don’t make the bed. And I just… I couldn’t comm you. I couldn’t give him up. He’d been there since… he’d been there the whole time.”

Hugh’s eyes glass over with tears, and it takes him a minute to respond, but he finally does.

“The whole time?”

Paul nods, his head jerking up and down erratically. He’s still looking away, and Hugh’s not having it. Very slowly, so that Paul has a chance to avoid it if he wants to, he reaches out and brushes a hand along Paul’s jaw. Then he turns Paul’s head to face him and gently lifts Paul’s chin and lowers his own head so that Paul’s eyes meet his.

That’s when Paul crumbles. His eyebrows scrunch up and his face contorts into a look of misery. But this only lasts a second before Paul looks down again. His eyes clamp shut and his breathing becomes ragged. He’s trying not to cry with every part of his being, and he’s murmuring under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know I shouldn’t have… He’s not mine, and I should’ve… But I couldn’t, Hugh… I’m sorry… He’s all I had, though, you know?”

Paul’s crying in earnest now, and Hugh’s hand has fallen into his lap.

He sits there, stunned and trembling, for a moment, then he’s moving again. He’s gently pushing the teddy bear in his hands into Paul’s while pulling Paul into his embrace. And after only a second, the three of them are laying across the bed, Paul curled up around the stuffed animal, and Hugh curled around Paul.

The two who can are crying, as the one who can’t bears silent witness while clutched against Paul’s chest in a death grip.

Hugh is running one hand through Paul’s hair over and over, and he’s whispering the whole time.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I understand. I’m not mad. It’s okay. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you.”

He peppers Paul’s neck with the lightest of kisses as he speaks, and eventually, Paul settles. He arches into Hugh’s touch and rolls over to bury his face in Hugh’s chest. He doesn’t let go of the toy, but Hugh doesn’t care. He just runs his hands gently down Paul’s back and pulls him flush against his body until his breathing evens out and Hugh knows he’s asleep.

Then Hugh rolls onto his back and pulls Paul over so that his head is resting on his chest. Paul shifts in slumber, putting one arm across Hugh’s body, but he doesn’t release the bear clutched in his hand.

Hugh sighs, then looks down at Paul sadly. He kisses the top of his head, then snuggles even more closely against him. In time, he falls asleep too.

-----

They wake some time later, sore and uncomfortable and congested, with itchy eyes and heavy limbs.

Paul whines a little when Hugh moves. Hugh presses a kiss to Paul’s temple, then rolls Paul off his chest and mumbles a quiet “go back to sleep, love.”

Paul doesn’t take long to comply, rolling onto his side and curling around the bear again, then drifting off.

-----

Paul next wakes up alone. The sheets are cool next to him, and his brows crease in confusion. He’s lying on his back, with the bear tucked under one arm.

“Hugh?” he calls out.

Hugh’s head pops into the doorway.

“Oh, good,” he says, grinning. “You’re up.”

Paul gives him a puzzled look.

“Apparently. What are you up to?”

“Who says I’m up to anything?”

Paul raises both eyebrows.

“Okay, fine,” says Hugh. “I made breakfast.”

Paul perks up. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Now get out here and eat.”

Paul grumbles a bit, but does as he’s told. When he sits at the table, he discovers Hugh has prepared a full spread of eggs, toast, fruit, juice, and something he never lets Paul eat without judgment – bacon.

Hugh sits down across from Paul and Paul gives him a side-eye.

“What?” asks Hugh.

“You tell me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just… it was a hard night. I thought maybe…”

He trails off.  Paul sighs, then continues for him.

“Maybe we could talk?”

“Yeah,” says Hugh, nodding.

Paul looks down and presses his lips together for a moment, then he nods, too.

“Yeah,” he repeats. He’s clearly nervous, but when his eyes meet Hugh’s, there’s a resolve there that lets Hugh know it’s time. For all they’ve been coming back together, there are still some walls between them, and they’ve been ignoring those for too long.

And so they talk. They’re somehow both off that day, so they talk about pain and loss and coping mechanisms. They acknowledge how much hurt they’ve caused each other and how they want to move past that. They discuss how best to do that and so many other things. And after all of that, they talk specifically about how Ricky, Hugh’s childhood teddy bear, has always known exactly where and when he’s been needed, and how that’s completely okay.

“It’s not the first time he’s had a sleepover,” says Hugh.

Paul chuckles, but doesn’t say anything.

“But I figured,” starts Hugh, before trailing off, then continuing again, “that he could go back there again?”

Hugh gestures with his head toward the bookcase in the living room, then looks at Paul with a question in his eyes. Paul knows what he’s asking. Ricky had sat on that bookcase for years before Hugh died. Before all the hurt in the universe came between Hugh and Paul. Before, when they’d shared a bed and wanted to protect innocent, plastic eyes from all too adult activities. Activities they haven’t yet engaged in this time around, for so many complicated reasons.

“Yeah?” asks Paul, just as uncertain.

Hugh nods.

“Yeah.”

Paul nods back.

“Okay.”

Hugh grins, but it’s tentative.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” says Paul again, and this time it’s not a question.

Hugh’s grin becomes a real smile. Then he’s up and moving and a moment later, Ricky is on the shelf.

Then Hugh is standing in the doorway to the bedroom, one hand reaching back for Paul.

Paul hesitates only for a moment, then walks over and joins Hugh. He takes his hand, and as Hugh leads him into the bedroom, Paul smiles.

And maybe it’s just a trick of the light. Maybe it’s a reflection off the viewport. Or maybe, just maybe, Ricky winks.

-----

A/N: And thus ends the saga of the RickyVerse. This story was written very early on in all of this, and it was always intended to be the last of the series. What was not intended at first was a weekly fic for an entire year. When that notion popped into my head, I just wanted to see if I could do it. So I planned to write fifty-two fics in this universe. But when I realized that by writing fifty-three I could finish this series exactly one year to the day (and on a Wednesday even, the day I originally tried to publish the weekly installments), I couldn’t not do it. So here we are with a bonus story fifty-three. I did it. One per week for a full year. Though the day of the week varied a bit here and there, the weekly did not. I hope you’ve enjoyed this little indulgence with me, and don’t worry – while the weekly series is done, I may revisit Ricky from time to time. After all, Paul still has that wedding to plan, and I’ve still got a list of bear puns around here somewhere. Thanks to all who read these and especially those who took the time to comment. You’re treasures.