Chapter Text
To Thrawn’s confusion, when Eli Vanto tells Thrawn that he’s taking him somewhere that he can rest, he doesn’t take Thrawn to the EDF barracks, leading him instead to a civilian building adjacent to the military compound.
Vanto glances at him and notes his surprise. It’s equally disconcerting and oddly comforting that Vanto can read him so easily when before he could not. “I figured you’d want somewhere quiet to recuperate before the Dawnfox ships out,” he explains. “Especially after the Council let you sit in a cell for two weeks.”
Vanto’s face darkens with suppressed emotion. Thrawn frowns. “This angers you,” he states, though he phrases it more like a question.
Vanto looks away from Thrawn’s face, focusing instead on opening the door to the apartment building they’ve arrived at. “You aren’t a criminal. Keeping you under guard at HQ would have sufficed, I don’t know what purpose interning you served.”
Thrawn isn’t quite sure either. It likely falls under the realm of political maneuvers beyond his understanding. “I was treated adequately,” Thrawn says, because he was. The cell was better than a New Republic execution at least.
Vanto scowls. “Not the point. I assume I wasn’t told because they knew I’d argue with them. Cowardly move on the Council's part.” He murmurs the last part under his breath. Thrawn hears it of course, though he’s no closer to understanding where Vanto’s anger comes from. That it could be on Thrawn's behalf seems too difficult to comprehend.
Vanto leads Thrawn to an apartment on the third floor of the building, unlocking the door, and entering unceremoniously. It’s small, and mostly prefabricated, but with all the furnishings and personal touches of a home well lived-in. Thrawn knows immediately that the apartment belongs to Vanto.
Vanto kicks off his boots, and Thrawn follows suit, not wanting to be discourteous. “Make yourself at home,” Vanto says, motioning to a door off of the main living space. “The guest bedroom is there, I’ve already made it up for you. Caccoleaf?”
Vanto doesn’t wait for Thrawn’s answer, already making his way to the kitchen. It’s a good thing too, because Thrawn is frozen in the living room, feeling unmoored.
“Eli?” Thrawn asks, and Vanto’s head snaps up, gaze meeting Thrawn’s with an open concern that sets Thrawn even further afloat.
“Yes?”
Thrawn’s brow is creased in confusion. “Why are you being so kind to me?” he asks because Vanto never answered his question about why he spoke up for Thrawn. Because Thrawn doesn’t understand this kindness or its purpose. Why Vanto would not only put his own head on the line, but open his home up to a former superior who he hasn’t seen in over a decade when everyone else has been so understandably cold. It makes no sense to him.
Vanto’s shoulders rise and fall with a deep inhalation, and he doesn’t answer for several moments, still moving around the kitchen. After a minute, he walks over to Thrawn, a steaming mug held in his hands. He passes the mug to Thrawn, and as Thrawn takes hold of it, he wraps his hands around Thrawn’s, the warmth seeping into his hands from both the mug and Vanto’s skin. The physical touch is unexpected, and Thrawn can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, skin to skin. He shivers, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, and yet the thought of pulling his hands away is unthinkable.
“Because you’re my friend,” Vanto says, matter of fact, like Thrawn’s oldest friend didn’t throw him into a cell for two weeks. Like Thrawn isn’t a person who burns through friendships like the Empire burned through pilots.
Vanto smiles, withdrawing his hands, leaving Thrawn with the still-steaming mug. “The Dawnfox embarks in ten days, so get comfortable. I’ll get you all the materials you need to get caught up on the war and current EDF procedure tomorrow, but tonight you should relax,” he says, before turning back to the kitchen.
His head spins with a sudden bout of dizziness, and Thrawn sits down on the couch feeling like a boat set adrift.
Thrawn can’t breathe. He opens his mouth to scream, but the pressure around his chest only increases, squeezing the air out of his lungs. He can feel the snap as his ribs crack, the sting of broken transparisteel as it shatters against his skin, the rush of wind through the broken viewport. Distantly, he hears the screams of his subordinates calling for him, as the tentacles lift him, shake him, but he still can’t breathe. The screams increase in volume, calling his name, always his name, but he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe—
“Thrawn!”
Thrawn wakes with a gasp, pulling in lungfuls of air like he truly has been suffocating. There is a hand on his shoulder, and for a moment, Thrawn imagines that he’s still on the bridge of the Chimaera, still being held in the clutches of the purrgil as he watches his crew get slaughtered—
“Are you alright?” Eli asks, face earnest, and Thrawn finally comes back to himself. He’s in Eli’s apartment on Naporar, in the guest bedroom. He looks at the chrono—it’s approaching four in the morning. Thrawn takes another deep breath before looking at Eli, not quite meeting his gaze, and nodding.
“I am alright. I apologize if I disturbed you.” Thrawn is all too aware that he’s lying in bed, half tangled in the thin sheet, in a position of relative vulnerability compared to Eli’s upright form. Eli must realize this, because after a moment of studying Thrawn, he takes a hesitant seat on the edge of the bed. Thrawn would normally rankle at the invasion of his personal space and privacy, but this is Eli’s home, and Thrawn realizes that he doesn’t truly want to be alone right now, not with the tendrils of his nightmare still pulling at him. Not when Eli’s presence seems to push the darkness back.
Vanto , Thrawn reminds himself, not Eli , but he can’t quite get his mind to make the switch, not when Eli is looking at him like this. So open, like Thrawn is someone he cares about. Thrawn swallows, looking down at his hands twisted in front of him.
“I have them too, you know,” Eli says, his voice barely more than a whisper. Thrawn raises his head, startled by the bare vulnerability in Eli’s voice. “I’m on the bridge of my ship, right as it’s about to explode. I know it’s going to happen, but I can’t do anything about it. I can only watch as the ship is torn apart, and half of my subordinates are killed. I see it over and over again, and I’m never able to change the outcome.”
Thrawn studies the twisting scars that mark the other man’s face, almost gruesome in their brutality, and yet shockingly beautiful. Thrawn frowns at the sudden irrational shift of his thoughts. The late hour must be affecting him more than he thought.
Eli looks up, his brown cheeks dusted with a smattering of infrared glow, though his eyes are sure. “What do you see?” he asks, and his voice doesn’t shake.
Thrawn exhales, feeling the familiar tension in his throat that grips him every time he thinks of that day, the terror that fills his lungs and makes it hard to breathe. He has an excuse ready on his tongue, a dismissal, anything to get the pressure to stop, before he realizes that maybe he can speak about it. Maybe it will help.
“The purrgil,” Thrawn says, and is embarrassed by the roughness of his voice. “I feel their tentacles wrap around me, crushing my lungs, I hear my crew scream my name. That was the moment I knew my mission in Lesser Space had been a failure.”
He has already admitted failure. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but Thrawn can’t help feeling, in this moment, that he let Eli down. More than failing his people, his crew, the galaxy, he failed Eli, and perhaps that is not the most important factor, but it is the one that hurts him the most.
Eli frowns at him, and Thrawn prepares for him to voice his disappointment, wills himself to accept it gracefully. “Your mission wasn’t a failure, Thrawn.”
Thrawn’s heart speeds, and he screws his face up in confusion. “I’m not sure how you can say that when just yesterday I was tried for treason.”
Eli waves his hand dismissively, letting out a huff of anger. “That was politics, and we established that you didn’t know what the Grysks were doing.” Eli places a hand over Thrawn’s where it sits on the bedspread, drawing his attention. Thrawn doesn’t shake him off. “Thrawn, during your Imperial service, you rescued eight sky-walkers. Innocents who would have been doomed to a life of Grysk slavery if not for you. The Defense Council can argue for hours about a war they mishandled, I don’t care, but those girls? They have lives because of you. Your mission wasn’t a failure to them.”
Thrawn inhales sharply, suddenly finding it hard to maintain eye contact with Eli. In the grand scheme of things, eight lives don’t measure up against the destruction he caused. But perhaps Eli doesn’t see it that way. “You truly believe that?”
Eli’s voice is sure and fervent. “Of course I do.”
Eli’s hand is still covering his, and Thrawn finds his attention drawn to the sight. “This is why you stood up for me?”
Eli withdraws his hand, straightening up. “It’s part of the reason,” he says, coming to his feet. “The night isn’t over yet. You should try and get some more sleep.”
He leaves with a soft smile that sets Thrawn at ease, and he finds that when he lays down and closes his eyes, he falls asleep far easier than he has in years.
Thrawn wakes to what feels like to him—after weeks of isolation—a cacophony. As his mind clears and he evaluates the noise more thoroughly, he realizes it is only three voices. Three unfamiliar voices.
He exits his room with his guard up, prepared for an attack or worse.
He is not, however, prepared for the sight of three young women who turn to him with grins and cheers as soon as they see him.
“Thrawn!” the one in front shouts with the kind of joy that no one has ever in his life said Thrawn’s name with, and he realizes what he missed before, which is that he does recognize these girls. They were simply far smaller the last time he saw them.
“Un’hee, what the hell is going on?” Eli asks, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he comes out of his room, face screwed up in confusion.
Un’hee grins, and holds up the shopping bags in her hands. “Avi’shag, So’rei and I heard Thrawn was back. We came to say hi. And make you breakfast.”
The three girls are still smiling, now a little shyly at him, and Thrawn finds that he doesn’t quite know what to do or say. “It is good to see you three are well,” is what he settles on eventually, because it is good to see that three of the sky-walkers he assisted in rescuing are alive and well and apparently breaking into Eli’s apartment to make breakfast.
Eli runs a hand down his face, and takes a few steps forward, bustling the girls away from Thrawn. “You girls have your hearts in the right place, but this is a lot to spring on Thrawn at once, he was only just released. He needs to rest—“
“It’s alright,” Thrawn interrupts. “I do not mind. The company is pleasant.”
Eli looks at him, eyebrows raised like he doesn’t believe him. “Are you sure?”
Thrawn nods. It is—admittedly—a lot, but Thrawn doesn’t remember the last time he witnessed such carefree joy, and he finds it unexpectedly contagious.
Eli shrugs and Un’hee cheers, dumping her grocery bags in the kitchen and turning back around to throw her arms around Eli, with So’rei and Avi’shag following. Eli accepts the affection easily despite the early hour.
“Great, where are your pans?” Avi’shag asks, and Eli grimaces.
“You guys were raised on warships. I didn’t think you could cook.”
“We looked up a recipe, it can’t be that hard,” Un’hee retorts, before turning to Thrawn. “We’re sorry the other girls couldn’t come, we were the only three on Naporar, but everyone sends their regards.”
Thrawn raises his brows. “The other girls?”
“The five others you rescued,” Eli says softly, coming up beside him. “All eight of them stuck together, acted as a kind of support group.”
Thrawn nods. He’s… oddly proud to hear it. “How did they get into your apartment?”
Eli laughs. “Un’hee has a key. She stays here sometimes. You sure this is okay?”
Thrawn takes in Eli’s open concern as well as the ease with which he exists in this space with this company, still in his sleep clothes from last night. It’s comforting in a way that Thrawn forgot existed. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Eli smiles and waves for Thrawn to follow him into the kitchen that the girls are already bustling around in, chatting between themselves. Un’hee hands them both mugs of caccoleaf, and Thrawn remembers the moment last night when Eli wrapped his hands around Thrawn’s. He tries not to miss the contact.
“What are you making?” Eli asks, a grimace on his face as he watches So’rei spread ingredients out across his kitchen.
“Sarvechi toast with whipped cream and berries,” Avi’shag responds, cracking eggs.
Thrawn observes them for several moments, working in tandem, Un’hee presiding over the activities with the recipe open on her questis. It’s so… domestic. Nice, even. It’s difficult to remember that yesterday he woke up in a cell.
Eli shakes his head. “They’re going to make such a mess,” he murmurs under his breath.
“I heard that!” Un’hee says, shooting him a glare. “We’ll clean up after ourselves, we promise!”
Eli shrugs, clearly not believing them, but unwilling to intervene at this point.
It’s clear to Thrawn that the three girls don’t quite know what to say to him. He isn’t offended. He’s a man in a vastly different stage of life who met them once thirteen years ago when they were children going through the most traumatic experience of their lives. They’re adults now, and Thrawn thinks that somewhere along the way, time got away from him. He doesn’t know when it started moving so fast.
Several things happen in quick succession. So’rei lays a piece of bread down into a frying pan filled with too much oil, and the resulting splash catches the flames from a burner turned up just a bit too high. The whole thing goes up in a blaze of red.
“Don’t!” Eli shouts as So’rei screams, reacting immediately, and dumping her mug of caccoleaf on the fire.
Thrawn sees the explosion like it’s in slow motion, but just like on the bridge of the Chimaera he’s forced to watch as disaster unfolds, without the ability to do anything .
Eli, however, is closer. He dives for So’rei as the caccoleaf hits the pan, knocking her away from the stove and catching the brunt of the explosion against his shoulder.
Thrawn feels his chest contract, all the air forced out of his lungs, and he takes a step forward, to do something, he hasn’t yet figured out what, when Un’hee shoulders forward, brandishing a fire extinguisher like a charric, and sprays the entire kitchen.
There are several seconds of dead silence before a smoke alarm begins to blare.
“Are you guys alright?” Un’hee asks, setting the extinguisher aside, and kneeling down by Eli and So’rei. Thrawn takes several steps forward as well, scanning for any further dangers they could have missed.
So’rei wiggles out from underneath Eli, accepting Avi’shag’s help standing. “I’m fine, just shocked. Eli?”
Eli grunts and sits back against the cabinets behind him. His jaw is clenched and his breathing shallow. “I’m okay,” he says through gritted teeth, blinking slowly.
Thrawn swallows the lump of fear in his throat. “Let me see your shoulder,” he says, gently pushing a concerned Un’hee aside.
Eli’s eyes are glassy, and Thrawn has to maneuver him away from the cabinets to look at the burn.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Avi’shag asks, face pale.
Eli shakes his head. “I’m fine, really.”
“At least allow me to treat you,” Thrawn insists, voice soft.
Eli sighs before relenting and Thrawn releases a breath of relief.
Thrawn turns to the girls, lips pressed together, intending to ask for them to give Eli some space, when Un’hee steps in.
“We’ll go get takeout for you guys,” she says, looking around at the kitchen covered in fire retardant foam, “and uh, organize a cleaning service. Eli, are you sure you’re okay?”
Eli nods, jaw still clenched. “I’ll be fine Un’hee, don’t worry.”
The front door closes behind the girls, and Eli’s back curves as he drops his facade of composure. “Kriff,” he hisses, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing vigorously at his eyes.
Thrawn crouches down next to him, concerned in a way he doesn’t remember feeling for anyone since… well since he last saw Eli all those years ago.
“It was just a grease fire,” Eli says, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “I don’t know why I’m reacting this way.”
Thrawn places his hand on Eli’s good shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You cannot argue away the physiological response of post-traumatic stress.”
Eli nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know, I know, it’s just… the explosion, and So’rei… I don’t know.”
Thrawn exhales. “I understand. You do not need to explain yourself to me. But I would like to take a better look at your shoulder.”
Eli keeps his eyes shut for several breaths before nodding. Thrawn stands, helping him to his feet. He leads Eli to the bathroom, where he sits him down on the edge of the bathtub.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” Thrawn asks.
Eli nods and points to the cabinet under the sink. “In there.”
Thrawn pulls it out, eyes widening as he spreads out what is really more of a portable hospital than a first aid kit. “I see that you’re prepared for anything,” he remarks, digging through for what he needs.
Eli huffs. “It never hurts to be prepared. You taught me that.”
Thrawn turns back to Eli, studying his hunched over form. “I suppose I did. Turn to the side so I can see your shoulder better.”
Eli does so, and Thrawn leans in, getting a closer look. The skin is singed, even blackened in some spots. “The burns are extensive,” Thrawn says. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”
Eli shrugs, wincing at the pain the motion causes. “You have more experience with human medical care than the doctors here. I have bacta, it’s fine.”
Thrawn nods, and grabs a pair of scissors to cut away the burnt fabric. “I’ll need to debride and disinfect the area before applying bacta. It’ll be uncomfortable.”
Eli nods, meeting Thrawn’s gaze. “I know, it’s fine. Just do what you need to do.”
Thrawn is as gentle as he can be, but Eli is still tense, hissing air out between clenched teeth as Thrawn carefully ministers the burns.
When he finally smooths a large bacta bandage over the wound, Eli takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for… freaking out earlier.”
Thrawn looks down at Eli, and Eli doesn’t meet his eyes. Thrawn sighs, sitting next to him on the lip of the bathtub. There isn’t really enough room for them both, and Thrawn can feel the warmth of Eli’s body against his side.
“When the fire started, I felt like I was back on the bridge of the Chimaera.”
Eli frowns. “What?”
Thrawn looks at him, his face softening. “It’s not just you, I mean. The flashbacks.” Thrawn has rarely struggled to find the right words for a given situation, and yet now he can’t seem to express himself with his usual eloquence.
Eli seems to understand anyway.
He nods, releasing a deep exhale, and leans over, head falling against Thrawn’s shoulder.
And though this is entirely new, Thrawn wraps his arm around Eli like the most familiar thing in the world.
The final puzzle piece falls into place, and suddenly Thrawn finds that he no longer feels so adrift, having finally found the shore.