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Being separated for as long as they had was not a pleasant feeling. Not that long ago, Elnor thought he was dead, only to be told miraculously that somehow Hugh was still alive - nanobots he thought he was told, but the words didn’t make sense to him, but they didn’t need to as long as Hugh was alive. And then they were separated again. Picard needed him and Hugh said they’d be fine without him, and so he left, sword in hand, ready to fight for that original lost cause.
He should’ve stayed, though he wasn’t sure he’d of been much help. He didn’t know how the Artifact functions, and there were no enemies to fight there, so he would’ve only been getting in the way, but at least on the Artifact he would know that Hugh was safe and well and alive.
He’d watched it fall from the sky. The first time he was there, on the ship as it crashed, he felt it, but somehow seeing it, being on the ground and looking up as the metal cube fell, was worse. He was helpless on the planet. All he could do was watch it spark and burn and collide with such an impact Elnor felt it through the ground despite the distance. Waiting for Picard wasn’t an option, and he started in the direction of the wrecked wreckage as soon as he believed it to be safe.
Though he tried not to slack, his paces slowed. It was far away, but he would get there, he must. Not just for Hugh of course, for Seven too, but the thought of losing him again wouldn’t leave Elnor’s heart.
He found his relationship with death to be a tricky one. He had killed on more than one occasion, and killed with that as his sole intent, and yet the thought of death was off putting, weighing heavy. Hugh didn’t deserve to die. He was protecting his home from a hostile enemy, a noble cause, and yet he paid the price, once already and Elnor dread to think he’d have to pay it again. Though he hadn’t met many people, and never before an xB like Hugh, he could recognise the look of lost faith in someone’s eyes, the look of desperation, of dreaming, of denial that this universe was made only to be cruel. He saw it in Hugh, someone who’d already lost too much. The thought that Hugh could somehow still lose even more saddened him; no one should suffer like this, especially not someone so kind.
The Artifact was close now, not far, it’s size finally feeling daunting. His dwindling stopped and his steps quickened again. Though the debris was the closest it had been, the space between him and Hugh felt the largest and emptiest; it was a feeling he did not like and never wished to experience again.
A few more steps was all it took before he saw the first body. It was an xB. He didn’t recognise him. His pace stalled, his feet sticking and having to be peeled from the dry dirt, but he moved on; as sad as it was, the body was neither Hugh nor Seven, and so he pressed forward. He passed another body, and another and another. It was unsettling. They were all so helpless, unprepared for battle and especially one on this scale. They all were dead. Hopefully not all of them.
Inside it was worse in a way he hadn’t expected. The first few chambers he passed though were completely empty and he thought nothing of it, but then the next and the next, all void of the living and the dead. Hugh was smart, that Elnor knew for certain, and so he had to suspect that the Queencell would be the safest space for them - for him and Seven - to be. His memory wasn’t poor but everywhere looked the same, but eventually he found it. Getting inside was another struggle, but that he also managed. At first he saw Seven, slumped unconscious on the floor, and so he ran to her. Shaking her gentle, she stirred and then woke, groaning, in pain most likely. As he scanned the rest of the room, he realised it was empty.
“Seven, are you alright?” He asked, helping her upright against a bulkhead.
“I’m fine,” she managed though tired and dry.
“Where is Hugh?”
“He… He went that way,” and she gestured to the opposite way that Elnor had entered, “He was going to repair a relay - the Queencell systems were damaged and I couldn’t do it from here.”
“I need to find him. Will you be alright?”
She nodded, and he rose, heading in the direction she pointed. He entered an unfamiliar section of the Artifact, though it was difficult to tell that it was any different from everywhere else. The corridor forked, and he had nothing but guess work to guide him. He took the left, hoping it would lead him to the one he sought.
As doubt started to seep into his bones, he heard metal clanking and blundering footsteps. He drew his sword, the blade sticky and still coated in green, but more than sharp enough to do whatever he willed of it. Rounding a corner, he was prepared to meet Romulan disruptors, but instead, he found Hugh, stumbling and braced against the wall, heading in his direction. He was bleeded, blood dripping down his head and filling the thin gaps between skin and cybernetics, but he was alive.
Hugh looked startled to see someone, anyone, body tense, but then recognition, and a soft, relieved smile.”Elnor?” Hugh staggered, tripping over his own feet, but managed to remain standing.
Elnor nodded as he dropped his sword, the metal clang echoing, as he rushed to Hugh. He was as emotional as he always would be, hugging Hugh, clinging to him as if it were his life threatening to fail. Short and gentle arms came around Elnor, holding just as tight. Despite the blood and the sweat and the lingering tears, Hugh had a smell to him that Elnor loved, lingering under the smell of battle. He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t recognise it beyond it being Hugh, but maybe that was it. It was something different, unique, a combination of cold metal and a burning fire, an early winter morning and something else Elnor could not place.
He held on so tight, burying himself in Hugh. He liked it, the feeling of Hugh being close to him, being beside him, being in physical contact with him. Elnor could describe it as addictive, for the short time they’d know each other, he felt a desperate need to hold onto Hugh, like without him, he’d suddenly be lesser. That was certainly how it felt.
“My friend, you are alive,” Elnor said, pulling back but not letting go, finally looking closely at Hugh’s face. And Hugh nodded to Elnor’s questions in a way that told Elnor far more than words could; Hugh was grateful to be alive but so scared of what was next to come, of finding out what he’d lost, of having to continue on in a world he did not identify with. Shifting, Elnor took a hand to the back of Hugh’s neck, sold and secure, in a way he hoped was reassuring. “I will not leave you. I will keep you safe now.” Another desperate nod from Hugh, and Elnor could see the doubt, the hesitation to believe in his own safety, his worthiness of being protected. “Trust me like I trust, which is without a doubt.”
Hugh’s head fell forward against Elnor’s shoulder in what Elnor would describe as a wanting, a wanting to believe Elnor’s words so badly but not wanting to see it fall away if proven wrong. He realised there was nothing he could say that would convince Hugh of his sincerity, and so he just pulled him closer again, holding the embrace. If words wouldn’t do it, then actions would. He would prove it to Hugh, would prove that he was safe and that he was worthy.