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He’s paralyzed.
Officer Eiffel is standing in front of him, alive, and Hilbert can’t move. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, and his chest feels so tight it could burst. There are so many things he wants to say, most of them along the lines of “you красивый ублюдок I missed you”, and “I don’t know if this is my last chance to say it, but я люблю тебя”.
Hilbert’s voice won’t work though, so he stands there, paralyzed and watching and absolutely terrified.
--
“Well, this should be… interesting.”
That is an understatement, Eiffel.
Interesting is a paper on the effects of thermonuclear radiation or dark matter. Interesting is not being shown up by a woman from command with an even redder leger than his, and being trapped on this porcelain ship for another five hundred days with even more people who want to kill him.
Hilbert is a patient man, but even he has his limits. Luckily, there is something needing done that requires only his expertise, thank whatever Loki-like deity that’s laughing at him now.
--
Eiffel looks like a cornered deer, and Hilbert honestly can’t blame him.
He knows that the infirmary holds more bad memories than a slaughterhouse (which is an unfortunately accurate metaphor), but it still hurts. Mainly because everything comes back around to him. It always does.
This is one of the only legitimate physicals Hilbert has ever given, and he’s surprised how easy it is to be gentle with Eiffel. Then again, the man was probably expecting more eye injections and spinal fluid samples, so the comparison is a bit moot.
He notices that, probably despite himself, Eiffel leans into his touch whenever Hilbert makes contact. It's logical: the man was alone for over a hundred days, and then only had a trio of command’s finest sociopaths for company. Still, Hilbert’s heart flutters and aches whenever he hears a little sigh of contentment from Eiffel. He must be remarkably touch-starved to enjoy Hilbert’s company.
He also hears his breath catch when he feels Eiffel’s ribs, which are more prominent than they ever should be. His skin is like tissue paper, and he’s constantly shaking like a leaf.
Eiffel chuckles. “Cryostasis sure did a number on me, huh?”
Hilbert can only swallow down the lump in his throat and nod.
“I mean, wowza, I didn’t even know fingernails could just fall off. And I’m pretty sure eyebrows are a thing I need. Well,” Eiffel says, amending his statement, “not need, but certainly want.”
He becomes very quiet for a moment.
“Although, the universe was certainly creative with it’s penance. I did kinda deserve it, and you would know, I guess.”
Eiffel laughs self-deprecatingly. “What goes around-”
“No.”
He stops and looks at Hilbert warily. “What do you mean, no?”
He looks Eiffel straight in the eyes, and sees the other man shiver a little more. “I mean, you deserved none of that. What you did was unpleasant, Eiffel, but nowhere near warranted what you have been through. Are much too kind, much too good, to ever deserve that, and every sane person on ship knows it.”
Hilbert sighs, “None of crew deserves it, except me.”
Eiffel stares at him with surprised sadness for a moment, before saying, “Nah, you don’t, not by a long shot. However, I’m pretty sure Cutter 2.0, Eiffel Nega, and Victoria Frankenstein aren't part of the team.”
“Never said they were.”
“And you are?”
Hilbert jerks his hand away from Eiffel’s chest and holds it close to his side. Idiot, he thinks, why did you think you were-
“Hey, hey,” says Eiffel kindly, “I didn't mean it like that. If we wanna kick these flying monkeys off this boat, we need all the help we can get, and I sure as hell am glad to have you on our team. I know the girls are never gonna forgive you for what you did to them, and they've got rock solid reasons to do so, but me? I'm okay. It's still a ‘cool motive, still murder’ situation, but I get how it feels to be willing to do anything to help someone you care about. And, you know if you need to talk, I'm here for ya.”
Hilbert chuckles to hide the tears threatening to fall. “Says man who has been through more in year than most have in lifetime. If anything, we should be giving you therapy.”
Eiff cracks a smile, “I'm pretty sure you ain't licensed doc.”
He takes Hilbert’s hand and squeezes it. “Here’s to having seen some shit.”
The rest of the exam goes quickly; it's late and clear that Eiffel is exhausted. Hilbert walks him back to his room, a hand on his back the whole time.
When they reach the door, he turns to leave, but Eiffel catches his wrist.
“Wait,” he says, and Hilbert stops.
Eiffel looks away, blushing a little, and swallows hard. “Would you mind- I mean, it's okay if you don't want to, but-”
“Eiffel.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course I will stay.”
Eiffel’s shoulders visibly sag with relief, and he pulls Hilbert into the room with him.
He lies facing the wall, Hilbert’s arms securely around him. It's much warmer than the observation deck, and more comfortable too, of course. Eiffel sighs happily, holding Hilbert’s hands in his, and Hilbert has never been so sure of anything, except that he never wants to let go.