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Hugh has been on Deep Space Nine for six weeks and five days when he learns the truth about himself.
The day had started the way his days usually started: breakfast followed by his exercise routine and after that his daily reading session.
On this day he has taken his reading out on the upper walkway on the Promenade, sitting on one of the benches that has been placed beneath the giant panorama windows. He likes being up here, he loves the view it gives him of space outside, the distant stars, Bajor below and on lucky days, the opening and closing of the wormhole. The sight itself is awe inspiring and he can’t help but feel drawn to it. That place is the farthest back he can trace himself. Though he knows the staff of DS9 is trying to find out who he is, so far, they’ve had no luck. So every few days Hugh finds himself on the walkway, looking out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the place he “came from”.
But today there’s no burst of light erupting in space, only the cold, distant pinpricks of the stars and if he tiptoed and looked at an angle, the blue and green of Bajor.
At the moment he sees neither of those things, only the screen of his datapadd. As he reads a message pops up on his screen. Opening he finds a brief text from Bashir requesting to see him at his convenience. The short text makes Hugh’s heart begin racing in his chest and he quickly gathers his things and makes for the infirmary.
“You wanted to see me doctor?”
Bashir jumps in his chair, hurriedly removing his feet from the table as Hugh walks in and sits back upright.
“Ah yes. I did indeed. Though I thought you might- Nevermind. Please, sit down.”
Bashir gestures towards the chair on the opposite side of the table and Hugh sits down on the edge of it, every nerve in his body vibrating.
“This is, well it’s going to be a bit difficult,” Bashir says, rummaging among the datapadds on his desk.
“In what way?” Hugh asks.
“I believe. No, I know , we’ve discovered who you are. But there are some, shall we say, complications.”
At Bashir’s words Hugh’s heart soars in his chest, only to plummet to his feet, his palms suddenly sweaty.
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, here it is. I think it’s easiest if you read this,” Bashir says, handing Hugh a datapadd.
Puzzled and feeling apprehensive Hugh accepts the padd from Bashir and looks at its screen. On it is displayed a personnel file, a Starfleet personnel file, Hugh recognizes the logo in the corner. But looks kind of dated to Hugh’s eyes, yet also in a way familiar.
One thing that is very familiar to Hugh is the face in the picture attached, he sees it every time he looks in the mirror. A younger version of him, maybe ten, fifteen years old, but it is undisputedly his face. If not him he must have an identical twin.
In the column next to the picture runs a list of personal details:
Name: Hugh Abdiel Culber
Rank: Lieutenant Commander
Born: November 11th , 2214
Deceased: January 16 h , 2254
His brain stumbles over the two dates. He reads them again, then a third time but they still look the same. Bewildered he looks up at Bashir.
“This- This can’t be right, it’s impossible.”
“It appears impossible. Nonetheless, it is true,” Bashir says gently.
“But how?”
“If you mean, ‘how is this possible?,’ I’m afraid I have no answer for you. If you on the other hand mean, ‘how did you find out?’. Well, that’s a bit of a story.” Bashir leans forward and folds his hands on the top of the desk. “Though commander Sisko did initiate a search for your identity via the official channels, I decided to do a bit of digging on my own. Purely unofficial. I was, I guess, curious. Considering your display of medical knowledge and your knowledge of Starfleet I asked our computer to run a scan for anyone fitting your biometric information within the parameters of being a licensed Federation doctor focusing on Starfleet medical staff or doctors in relationship with Starfleet personnel.” Bashir pulls a small grimace. “But when I did I forgot to give the computer a backwards date where it should stop. And then I forgot all about it, distracted by daily duties. Then a week ago I was reminded when a result came back. That.”
He gestures to the padd hanging limply from Hugh’s hand.
“A week ago,” Hugh says numbly.
“Maybe I should have told you then but I wanted to verify it because well, it’s-”
“Impossible.”
“Improbable. Impossible would mean it couldn’t happen at all and it clearly did.”
“How did you verify?”
“I requested your full file, including DNA scans from Starfleet HQ. They had to dig a bit since the file was over a hundred years old.”
Hugh feels like the air is punched out of him at Bashir’s words, but Bashir doesn’t seem to notice and continues unfazed.
“Then I had to compare those to the samples I took when you first came in. It’s you.” Bashir points to the datapadd again, “It’s definitely you.”
Hugh nods and looks down at the screen again. Both his eyes and his mind have a hard time focusing on the text but he does manage to absorb that though he left behind parents and two brothers at the time of his “death” he had neither partner nor children. A small blessing.
“How did I... how did I, die?” he asks. It is likely stated in the file but he can’t read anymore right now.
“Well the thing is, officially you were declared dead but there was never any body.”
Hugh tears his gaze away from the padd and looks up at Bashir who keeps talking.
“You were travelling alone in a shuttle to a new posting, but you never arrived. On your trip you had crossed an area that had been having a number of heavy ion and tachyon storms, it was presumed your shuttle had been damaged and possibly gone off course or crashed, but in spite of extensive searches in the area no trace was found of you or your vessel. A year later you were officially declared dead. Obviously something else happened, something that caused you to end up in the wormhole in our time. But what I can’t tell you.”
Hugh takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“I see,” he says before falling silent, again staring at the screen of the padd. Bashir too says nothing.
“I need... some time,” Hugh manages to say after a while.
“I understand. I can give you a copy of the file so you can read it later and I’ll inform Commander Sisko of the, developments.”
Bashir takes the padd from Hugh’s hand and quickly copies over the content of the file to a datadisk.
“You haven’t-”
“Told him yet? No. I thought it only right you be the first to learn this.”
Hugh can do nothing but nod at that.
“If you’ll have me excused,” he manages to stutter forth before hurriedly getting to his feet and rushing out of the Infirmary.
He stumbles through the Promenade, making for the outer rings first chance he gets to avoids the crowds. He doesn’t want people around him, but the emptiness of the habitation corridors feels even more oppressive and suddenly the thought of returning to his own room, which had been his original plan, no longer seems like the last place he would want to be.
Unthinkingly he lets his feet pick his path for him until he finds himself outside the door to Paul’s garden. Like an automaton he pushes the doorbell and moments later the door slides open, revealing a cranky looking Paul.
“What do you- Hugh! What happened?”
Hugh merely shakes his head, unable to put what he’s learned into words.
“Please, come in,” Paul offers.
Taking Hugh by the elbow Paul leads him to the small office he has made in a corner of the former cargo bay. It consists of a table, chair and a couch for when Paul has been working so late he can’t be bothered to go back to his own quarters to sleep. He gently sits Hugh down on the couch, grabs the blanket thrown over the back and wraps it around Hugh’s shoulders.
Hugh finds himself shaking and Paul pulls him into a tight embrace. The warmth of the blanket and solidity of Paul beside him makes something crack inside of Hugh, the enormity of what he’s learned bears down on him and tears start flowing freely. Paul says nothing, just keeps holding him and rocks him gently back and forth until the tears end.
Paul offers him a napkin to blow his nose in, rubbing soothing circles on Hugh’s back.
“Do you want to talk?” Paul offers. “Or maybe something hot to drink?”
“I feel exhausted.”
“A nap? The couch is nice for it.”
Paul pats the couch.
Hugh knows it is meant as a quip but can’t find it in himself to smile, so he just nods, feeling bone weary.
Paul helps him lie down, pulls off his boots and tugs the blanket around him.
“I’ll be right here when you wake,” he promises.
When Hugh does, he knows he can’t have slept long. His throat’s still sore and his eyes puffy from crying. The room is cool, quiet and filled with the musky smell of fungi, the silence occasionally interrupted by soft clicks that he finds upon opening his eyes is that of Paul’s stylus against his padd’s screen.
He wishes he could stay right where he is, warm and comfortable under the blanket, but he knows that isn’t possible. So he pushes the blanket away and swings his legs off the couch, sitting up.
The subtle noise of him moving catches Paul’s ears and he turns around to face Hugh.
“Feel any better?” he asks him.
“Not really.”
Paul gets up from his chair and walks to sit down next to Hugh.
“What happened?”
Slowly Hugh pulls out the data chip Bashir gave him.
“It might be easier if you just read this,” he says.
With a slight frown Paul takes the chip, inserts it into his padd and starts reading. Hugh can see how positive surprise makes way for confusion and bafflement, but Paul continues until he reaches the end before he looks up from the screen.
“How?” Paul asks.
“I don’t know, no one does. But that, is me.”
“I can’t think of what to say.”
“Is there anything to say?”
“Perhaps not. Except, why don’t you come home with me and eat lunch. Just the two of us in my quarters?”
“You have your job; I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not. There’s nothing here that can’t wait till later or tomorrow.” Paul gets to his feet and holds out his hand. “Come on.”
Hugh has never seen the inside of Paul’s quarters before. Had he been in a less unsettled state of mind he’d probably have admired the sparse but tasteful set up, as much for aesthetic as for function, and possibly have been surprised at the nature images decorating several of the walls. But as it is, he barely senses his surroundings as Paul leads him to the sofa arrangement.
“Would you like something particular for lunch?”
“I’m not very hungry.”
“Something light and easy on the stomach then.”
As Paul goes to the replicator to get their food Hugh pulls the datachip back out of his pocket again and turns it over in his hand.
“Here you go,” Paul says, interrupting his reverie, placing a bowl of soup in front of him. “Redeeming green soup. Delicious and filling but also light.”
“What’s redeeming about it?” Hugh can’t resist the quip even in his low spirits though he cannot bring himself to smile, it is too good a setup.
“It’s good.”
Paul is normally talkative, but today the room isn’t filled with the sound of his voice as they eat and Hugh is thankful for the silence, he doesn’t think he could hold up a conversation right now.
When the meal ends Paul cleans up.
“Can I borrow a padd? I never read all of this.” Hugh holds up the datachip.
“Of course.”
It takes Hugh several attempts to merely get through the first lines, his mind keep blanking out, refusing to absorb the text, but slowly, very slowly, he works his way through it. His lists of accomplishments are a mile long, but there’s barely any information on his personal life.
Did he have any? Who did he talk to if anyone? Friends, lovers that had been lost to the track of time. Or had he lived only for his work? Was the old him ever lonely? He had been ambitious that was for certain, but what had his end goals been? What kind of person had he been? Ambitious, driven, but what else?
The datafile gives him no answer.
While he reads Paul settles down in one of the reclining chairs with another padd, remaining quietly engrossed in his work. But when Hugh puts down the padd on the coffee table with a sigh Paul looks up from it.
“I don’t know what to do,” Hugh says as much to himself as to Paul. “With any of this.”
Paul moves from his chair to sit beside Hugh, placing a hand on his back.
“Maybe you should give yourself some time to absorb it, process it, before thinking about what to do. You only just learned the truth.”
Hugh runs his hands across his face, nodding.
“We could play a game of something if you want distraction? Or watch something?” Paul offers.
“I’d rather... Do you have something I could read? Something else but this?”
“Certainly. If you like romantic fiction from the last two hundred years or so.”
“I could do with a nice romance.”
Picking one of the stories Paul offers him Hugh settles back down on the sofa.
“Do you mind if I put some music on?”
“Jazz?”
“Yes. Nothing too wild, just some quiet, soothing rhythms.”
“Not at all.”
The music softly fills the room and they both settle back down.
Hugh’s request for something to read was partially a ploy. He hoped he could distract himself but was far from sure he’d be able to focus on anything, reading or otherwise. But he finds Paul’s company soothing, the sounds of him as he shifts in his chair, just that he isn’t all alone, but he still does not feel up to engaging with him.
Time ticks by as Paul works and Hugh pretends to read, his thoughts churning but going nowhere. When dinner time arrives, he still hasn’t gotten more than the few paragraphs into the story.
“Not very engaging?” Paul asks.
“Is it that obvious?”
“You haven’t scrolled forward since you started reading, so yes. You don’t have to pretend to read just because you want to stay quiet you know?”
Warmth spread in Hugh’s chest.
“I- Thanks,” he says.
“Now I’m going to get us some dinner and after we’ve eaten you can sit and say nothing if that’s what you want, we can watch something, or play a game or anything. I can walk you home too if you’d rather be alone.”
“No. No I’d rather not to be alone tonight.”
Paul nervously clears his throat.
“You know, you can stay all of tonight too if you want.”
Hugh licks his lips.
“I’m not looking for that kind of company,” he says.
“I know. I meant, as a friend. It might sound a bit odd, but if you’d rather not sleep alone either...”
“That would be taking advantage of your kindness.”
“No, it wouldn’t. I’m offering freely. You don’t have to accept it, but I want you to know you have the option.”
“Then, thank you.”
The rest of the evening they remain quiet together. At one point Paul puts on a documentary, the sound kept down low. When he starts to yawn, he switches it off and turns to Hugh.
“Do you want to stay?” he asks.
Hugh nods, words refusing to press past the lump in his throat. Paul stands and holds out his hand which Hugh takes and let Paul lead him into the bedroom.
Another toothbrush and pajamas are easily produced and before long they’re both in bed. Hugh lies curled up on his side, facing the room, Paul behind him. Hugh feels the bed dip as Paul shifts closer, wrapping one arm around Hugh’s waist.
“Is this okay, or too intimate?” Paul asks.
“It’s fine. It’s nice,” Hugh says, realizing that he finds the warmth of Paul’s touch comforting, as is the intimacy of his nearness.
“Goodnight then,” Paul offers.
“Goodnight.”
They lie silent in the dark and Paul soon drifts off. Hugh can feel the soft, humid gust of his breath against the back of his neck, but he finds it difficult himself to find rest.
Moving slowly so as not to wake Paul, Hugh rolls over so he's now facing him. It’s a little awkward but lying this way, his face pressed in against Paul’s chest and Paul’s arm now across Hugh’s torso makes him feel safe. There’s something about lying wrapped in the warmth and smell of Paul that allows Hugh to finally, slowly unwind and bring his thoughts to a halt so that he can at long last find enough peace to drift to sleep.
When Hugh wakes, he’s unsure how much time has passed, but it must be into the day as he’s alone in bed now and the side occupied by Paul have gone cold. He stretches and yawns, thinking about staying here for a while but doing that feels like an invasion even if Paul did leave him here.
“Computer, lights up, ten percent.”
He pulls on his clothes in the weak light, intending to head home and eat, sending Paul a message saying thank you for yesterday but when he steps out into the living room, he finds Paul sitting in the same chair as he sat in yesterday.
“Good morning,” Paul says. “Slept well?”
“Yes, yes I did. Thank you for...” Hugh gestures back toward the bedroom.
“Glad I could help. You were fast asleep when I woke so I decided to let you sleep as much as you could, thought you might need that. How about breakfast?”
“Yes please,” Hugh answers finding that he does indeed feel hungry.
“I’ve already eaten but get whatever you like from the replicator. And would you mind getting me a coffee too? Black.”
Ordering a light breakfast and two coffees, his own with milk in it, Hugh returns to the sofa.
“Is there some reason we’re not using the dinner table?” he asks. “Not that I mind, I’m just curious.”
“I find this more comfortable and this isn’t exactly a formal meal is it?”
“No, I guess not.”
Hugh has just about finished eating and is considering how to politely tell Paul that he needs to get back to his own quarters, to shower and change if nothing else, when the doorbell sounds.
“Lieutenant, may I come in?” he can hear Sisko say from outside in the corridor when Paul answers the bell.
“Of course, Commander.”
“Ah, I’m sorry mr Culber,” Sisko says when he sees Hugh at the table. “I hadn’t meant to interrupt your breakfast.”
“I was done.”
“In that case we need to talk. Perhaps in private?”
“Ah yes, I could-” Paul starts but Hugh reaches out and takes his hand.
“Please, stay,” he says.
With a nod Paul sits down on the sofa’s armrest, next to Hugh and Sisko occupies the chair Paul recently vacated.
“Well mr Culber, or doctor Culber as I guess I should call you.”
“Am I? A doctor? My medical license must be what, a hundred, a hundred and ten years out of date?”
“I’m not quite sure what the expiration on a medical license is, but I know there isn’t one on a Federation citizenship. Not even by dying.”
“So I’m still a Federation citizen?”
“Yes. We just need to resurrect you. Your position as a Starfleet officer and a doctor on the other hand-”
Hugh interrupts him with a shake of his head.
“I’m not sure I want that, Commander. I know that was who I was, but I’m not sure it’s who I am . I’m not sure who I am.”
“Understandable. If you ever do wish to return to service, we’ll follow the protocols on that.”
Hugh lets out a surprised laugh.
“This happens often enough that there are protocols for resurrecting time travelling officers to duty?”
“Not often. But yes often enough that procedures have had to be developed,” Sisko answers with a smile.
“I’ll keep it in mind Commander.”
“But to return to the first matter. Bringing you back to life will take a few weeks to go through, paper work can be slow, and I’ll ask you to remain on the station for the duration. But once it has gone through you have the same right, duties and privileges as any other citizen and you can go anywhere within Federation territory. Or outside of it should you so desire and find the opportunity.”
Bidding them both good day Sisko leaves again and Hugh finds himself staring emptily at the wall.
“Are you okay?” Paul asks him.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Paul, listen. I’m grateful, very grateful, for everything you did for me yesterday, but right now I think I need some time alone to process this. Think things through.”
“Of course. If you need company again let me know, will you?”
“I will.”
With a brief consideration Hugh hugs Paul before leaving.
Hugh doesn’t return to his own quarters, not straight away. Instead he goes to the Promenade and makes his way up onto the walkway, finding the same place he sat at yesterday when he received Bashir’s message. He sits down on the bench and looks out the vaulting window, staring into space.
He sits there, staring at the darkness of space at the point where the wormhole opens, until the darkness becomes a multitude of colors that dance in front of his eyes.