Chapter Text
Returning to the Empire was not everything Thrawn had expected it to be. Not that he doubted it would crumble without his influence, but just to the extent at which it had crumbled.
Time regrouping with the reformed remnants of the Empire had passed. Weeks, perhaps, had flown by while the base he relocated to was set up, while he was given back his Grand Admiral regalia once more.
The uniform and renounced position of authority held a strange nostalgia for him. After being outcast alone with that boy for so long.
He slipped so easily back into his role of Grand Admiral, he supposed he had never really shed it in the first place. Not really.
It was a strange existence. A strange routine. No more pristine hallways, no more starships and bridges to operate- at least for the time being. No more Emperor, or Darth Vader. So much was missing in these strewn together bases and strongholds that feigned order and control.
Once he had settled in with most of the things that made him feel part of the Empire again, it hit him. Thrawn stopped gazing at the holotable’s history data that he was studying, his mind suddenly halted. The holo image showed the Dome with clouds of smoke billowing from it. There were no listed accounts of the exact casualties, due to the data being mostly salvaged from larger data banks.
He had not received contact from her since his return, but then again, things were in shambles.
He wasn’t aware of how his body had stiffened, hesitated, before he tore himself away from the holotable.
His strides were calm, his breathing level, but his head buzzed softly with a mess of numb thoughts as he made his way through the corridors to the leading Commander of the base.
He found the Commander in the main control room, there were many other subordinates around collecting data and fixing their tech. The Commander stood at the large central holotable, analyzing an intricate map of their base.
She looked up at him as he approached. He was well used to the stare she gave him; it was the same one nearly every human in the Empire gave him, regardless of how used they were to seeing him.
Her eyes darted between his alien features, the rest of her demeanour consisted entirely of professionalism as she addressed him formerly.
“Ah, Grand Admiral. How may I help you?” She was young for a Commander, and it showed in the slight nervousness of her otherwise clipped voice.
Thrawn’s composure never faltered, despite the crowded- no doubt eavesdropping- company. He stood tall with his hands neatly behind his back, his head tilted to the side slightly. Only his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, due to noticing the unfortunate similarity of her haircut to that of the one he was inquiring about. At least her hair was light brown instead of black.
“Commander, I simply wish to know the whereabouts of Governor Pryce.”
The Commander blinked, averting her eyes before swallowing and replying. “I thought you might have already found out. I’m sorry Sir, but the Governor of Lothal perished in the Rebel’s attack on the Dome.”
Thrawn was silent, his features blank. After a moment he blinked, straightening his head. “I see.”
The Commander appeared to be gauging his reaction, unsure of what to say. “I, uh, I understand the Governor worked by your side during the Rebel interference on Lothal. My condolences.”
“Yes.” Thawn said, softly, matter-of-factly. “Thankyou, Commander. Carry on.” He turned and left without another word.
To anyone around, the exchange of information was casual. Those who were listening or daring to sideways glance at the Chiss Grand Admiral were probably disappointed by the lack of any particular response. And by the time the sound of his boots had faded out of the room and corridor things went back to normal.
Thrawn made his way back to his quarters. His walking speed normal, his posture tall and well-aligned. His mind uncharacteristically blank.
As soon as he crossed the threshold into his new office he pressed the door closed and locked it, a little faster than he would have normally. He just stood numbly. He couldn’t accept what he had been told. He half expected Arihnda Pryce to send him a transmission through at any moment, just to prove that the information was false somehow.
A logical part of him knew that would never happen.
He attempted to take a steadying breath, and walked to his desk chair. Sitting down, threading his fingers together carefully, he stared at his own hands; examining the smooth cobalt blue skin that was lighter on the underside, and a subtle faded purple at the knuckles and tips under the nails. He had large, strong, long fingered hands.
He remembered hers in comparison. She had small, pale, yet tough hands. She had worked hard in her life, and it showed in the rougher skin on the pads of her fingers, the subtle scars that no one else would have cared to notice.
Why did he even care to notice? It didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things.
His crimson eyes looked up to take in the rest of the room. It was a sorry excuse for an office compared to what he used to have on the Chimera . At least the clutter around the rest of the base didn’t apply here, instead it was painfully empty.
His throat tightened as the memory of their first meeting flashed back to him. The Ascension party, when Admiral Yullaren had been parading him around to the Imperial socialites. How he remembered her blue eyes when she made her way to introduce herself. He had been taken with her in a way he couldn’t explain.
After that it had been pure chance that they met again and again. She had excelled and climbed the social ladder in a similar way as he had, except her reasons and motivations were entirely her own.
She had craved security and control. She had done anything for it.
She was a ruthless, cunning woman. She understood the social political world that he didn’t. He had admired her for that.
But admiration wasn’t where his feelings for her stopped. He knew this, she probably knew this. However, the extent they took these unresolved feelings never led to anything… substantial. And the reality was that even if they had wanted to, they couldn’t. Their line of work, their individual professions, whatever it was that they might have secretly wanted was doomed from the start.
That’s largely what made the memories painful. The memories of lingering touches, heated eye contact, the playful exchange of words.
Those were memories and experiences he had locked away, deep inside his mind. Classified. Locked. Confidential…
She was gone.
She was gone.
She was beautiful. The weight of her smaller body, the sensation of her cool, soft skin against his… the hazy look in her sapphire blue eyes as she-
Thrawn jolted himself out of his chair. His breathing uneven. The tight feeling in his throat nearly choked him. He swallowed thickly.
He couldn’t do this.
Thrawn quickly updated his status in the base to ‘do not disturb’, disabled any and all incoming communications, and made his way to his refresher.
He stood still under the pounding pressure of the cold shower. His body ran hotter than humans, causing steam to gently swirl around as the water reacted to his heat.
The sensation of something gnawing at his stomach grew.
What if he could have averted what happened? If only she had been on the Chimera instead of on Lothal.
He grit his back teeth as his jaw tensed. If the Rebels had been destroyed, it would not have happened.
He would never see her again.
He would never gaze into those intense, piercing eyes, ever again. The ones that challenged him without hesitation, that also brought him a strange feeling of comfort and belonging in this strange galaxy.
Thrawn felt the air leave his lungs and his breathing shudder. The tears were distinctive on his skin as they slid down his face to fall from his jaw, they were warm. They made his eyes burn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried.
He leaned against the glass panel in front of him with his outstretched arms, trying to balance, to ground himself in some way.
His mind raced in aimless circles. He needed to find some better, more detailed records of what happened. He needed some kind of closure. He needed to understand.
He wondered what her last actions were, her last words and thoughts. There was no reason to seriously ponder these things. He would never find out.
Vile anger rose inside him. It had no precise direction, no specific reason. Everything from her death, to the Rebels, to the way the Commander had stared at him earlier, to the current state of the Empire.
Thrawn seethed, striking the glass harshly with his fist.
“Rav.” He growled, inexplicable violence to the tone of his voice. Using his native tongue felt like his own private rebellion against everything he had forced himself to align with. The anger bubbled to the surface again, he struck the solid glass again with a cry of rage. He doubted anyone would hear him, but he could not care if they did.
He found himself sinking to his knees once the fight had drained from him. A part of him felt ridiculous for his outburst, it had been so long since he’d ever felt so… insecure. Weak.
He held his face in his hands. Unable to stop thinking of her. His body shook with sobs as the shower continued to pound down on him.
After the shower and a long sleep he had finally managed to stop crying. But the profound emptiness inside of him would not disperse. He had lost someone who he would never get back, and though he knew there was no way to change what happened, he couldn’t process it.
He felt as if he desperately needed to kick himself back into line. Even in his uniform he felt naked, as if he needed to shrug back on the extra layer of formality, calmness and perfectionism he usually managed to casually display so well. His professional persona wasn’t ever something he put on for show, it was simply part of him. But he felt like he’d been blasted into pieces, needing to intricately arrange himself back together.
He would be fine. Thrawn tried to reason with himself as he began to turn back on his communications. He always was. No matter what he went through, no matter what he dealt with. This was just another… another… It was something he could figure out. He could figure out anything. He just needed to… Understand it. Then he could navigate these feelings. He would be fine.