Chapter Text
The apartment is dark and silent; the scents are familiar; the domestic droid has already performed its functions and it has retreated into its port in the office – the door is wide open, all doors are, so that the entirety of the apartment can be quickly scanned from the access of the landing pad.
There was no Eli to greet him and Eta. No warmth and comfort and safety to chase away the exhaustion and the loneliness.
Routine carried on, structuring, even if it hurt in ways Thrawn was uncomfortable dissecting and rationalising.
He pulled out his boots before stepping into the apartment. He set down his duffel bag. He cleaned Eta’s little paws with the wipes on the small stand by the access from the landing pad. He set Eta down and stepped in after her, first into the kitchen to dispose of the wipe and then into the fresher to deposit his uniform in the cleaning unit and to wash his hands. He returned to the kitchen to feed Eta and change her water bowl. He drank a glass of water himself. He crossed the living room towards the doorway that accessed the landing pad to retrieve his duffel bag and leave it in his room, where he collected clean underwear and a clean sleeping attire. He returned to the fresher for a quick shower. He left the fresher and headed into his room to put away the contents of the duffel bag: dirty underwear and gym clothes went into the laundry basket; datapads went into his office; the Navy-issued personal hygiene products and spare comb remained in the duffel bag, that was tucked away on top of the wardrobe. He went into the kitchen.
The shelves and drawers and items he had reserved for Eli remained untouched.
There was nobody to prepare a meal for and to share a meal with.
Thrawn opened the pantry, retrieved a nutrient bar, sat at the table, and ate in silence. His mind was carefully occupied with plans for the following day and with keeping his gaze on Eta, wandering around, to have something to focus on.
The bar was finished.
He stood up, disposed of the wrapping, picked up Eta, strode out of the kitchen-
And the doorbell chimed. It brought Thrawn to a curious halt, not brusque but not casual either. 500 Republica was a quiet place to live, neighbours usually kept to themselves - and Thrawn barely spent time at his designated apartment due to a busy schedule and to an aversion to fantasies of a life that might not come to be.
(Vader’s purge had resulted in a boom of free real estate. In a gesture of immense practicality, sensible logistics, and glaring disregard for strategically localised attacks, Vader had housed all his key personnel and those working at the former Imperial palace and other military/administrative offices in the 500 Republica. It was a delight to watch the military, unused to living anywhere but barracks and ships, navigating the basics of civilian life… even if Thrawn himself had never felt so lost before.)
Beyond the door could stand a neighbour or a hostile. Security was tight and Thrawn had contributed to improve the building’s self-defence systems, but a terrorist attack was always a possibility in current times: after all, the Emperor lived a few floors above Thrawn and the new High Council was scattered through the building.
With a healthy balance of curiosity and suspicion, Thrawn set Eta down and advanced to the door. The security feed on the small screen standing just above the narrow console by the thick blastdoor (where Thrawn sensibly kept a spare blaster and a pair of expandable batons in the single drawer) showed a detailed and high-resolution view of the foyer, with the man standing outside already having his biometric readings being run through the imperial ID database in search for a match.
But Thrawn would recognise Eli anywhere, from whatever angle.
Breath catching. Muscles tensing. Heart-rate increasing. A surge of energy within. The door is opened with calm but the movements of the hand and arm are sufficiently hasty to denote rush. Beyond the door stands Eli, in plain civilian clothes and boots that have a military-like cut to them. The dark and simple clothes, devoid of accessories save for a belt with a holster, indicate unease and discomfort with garments that are not a uniform. Eli’s body is tense, his jaw is clenched, his body heat is overall elevated. Though his expression is schooled into neutrality, his eyes are skittish and his throat moves prominently when he swallows.
“Good evening, citizen Eli Vanto,” Thrawn greeted in a quiet tone.
Eli’s lips curve into a small smile, warmth shimmers in his eyes, some of the tension eases around his shoulders… but it is unclear whether fond exasperation or relief is being expressed.
“Good evening, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I… I was wondering if this is a good time to… talk.” Eli’s voice is soft, trembling slightly from nerves. It produces a jittering impression in the pit of Thrawn’s stomach. Heart-rate increases, throat tightens, muscles ease just slightly.
“You have… taken the time you needed to think?”
“I have.”
“That being the case, let us talk,” Thrawn stood to the side, waiting, watching closely as Eli took in a breath and stepped into the apartment. As the door closed, Eli bent down to pull out his boots and set them aside. When he straightened up, Thrawn turned and led the way further into the apartment, unfaltering steps taking him towards the office… but no.
The last conversation with Eli played in the back of his mind, clear and painfully fresh. He had examined it, stared at it, loathed it, studied it. His failure then held the key to salvaging what he had with Eli and he could not afford any mistakes.
Thrawn was not human and could never love as one, just as Eli was not a Chiss and, therefore, could never love as one. But balance could be found.
Thrawn indicated the couch, the only piece of furniture in the living room. It was never used, except for Eta’s occasional naps – whenever Thrawn spent time at the apartment, he was either working in his office or sleeping in his room.
The two of them sat together at the same time, facing forward, not too close yet not too far apart. Thrawn remained silent, watching Eli out of the corner of his eye, studying him but cautiously refraining from reading into Eli’s body language.
He never misread others and failed to predict outcomes, but there was a sweet irony to it having been Eli to throw him off.
It had also been a magnificent lesson.
The silence stretched and tension thickened around Eli, like a storm amassing in the horizon and filling the air with something near suffocating. Slowly, Thrawn turned to face him, considering whether to break the silence before it broke Eli.
But Eli exhaled, slowly, and finally looked at Thrawn.
“I’m the new Director of the ISB,” he announced quietly. At that. Thrawn raised his eyebrows – surprise, yes; but a pleasant, hopeful one. “The Emperor said I proved myself, that I am… everything you said I am… and that I must keep it up…”
Thrawn didn’t immediately reply, allowing himself a moment to savour Eli’s glory and to fill his spirit with gratitude towards Vader, gratitude that he carefully folded away to examine and deal with later, for now the moment belonged to Eli. He allowed himself to smile, to let go of the caution he had protected himself with.
“I’m happy for you, Eli. Your talent has been recognised and you’re finally in a position where you can employ your full potential,” Thrawn meant every word – he meant all words he spoke, but there was always a special effort he made for Eli to put feelings and not just facts into the words he spoke to him.
He knew Eli knew that. It made the memories of their last conversation the more painful and the current moment the more decisive.
With a sigh, Eli looked down at his hands, resting on his lap.
“The Emperor hasn’t made the announcement yet, but… I wanted to tell you before the meeting tomorrow. He’s going to introduce me to High Command… and I don’t … I don’t want to do this with us… like this- I mean, in general I just… don’t want us to stay like this…”
Eli’s body is tense, his voice somber; but when he looks up at Thrawn again there is determination in his gaze. His jaw is clenched and there is a slight crease to his brow. His hands grip his thighs, a slight tremor to his fingers denoting increasing anxiousness.
“I must confess that I hoped we would get to resolve the grievances that upset you,” Thrawn muttered, subduing the urge to reach for Eli and take his hand. No battle could ever be won in a rush.
And never before had Thrawn wanted to win so much.
Eli’s facial temperature increases and his gaze locks with Thrawn’s. The muscles of his jaw, neck, and shoulders remain tense. The tension, however, is not an indicator of aggression; likely increasing anxiousness and discomfort, perhaps due to willingly putting himself in a vulnerable position.
Thrawn saw his opening and knew at last what to do.
He still doesn’t reach for Eli’s hand, but turns slightly on the cushion to better face him.
Eli huffed a laugh, dry and devoid of joy. His eyes, hardened and sharpened by experience, carried sufficient grief to overpower anything words could express.
“I… I’m sorry for how I spoke with you, Thrawn,” Eli’s tone, quiet and tired, carried as much grief. Tone, not words. “I… I shouldn’t have- I just…”
Eli pauses, scowls at himself. A frustrated sound escapes him and he rubs his face with both hands. He appears to be at a loss of how to proceed; perhaps he hopes that Thrawn will come to his aid… meet him halfway… seize the opening.
“You were feeling wronged. Used. Undervalued,” Thrawn spoke quietly, inched closer. That made Eli peek at him from behind a cage of fingers. “Your feelings were valid, Eli. I… I can’t love you in the human way, nor can you love me the Chiss way. But you have made… such an effort, from the beginning, to meet my needs and to adapt yourself to me… whereas I have not made that effort.”
Eli’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw unclenches and his lips part minutely in a silent expression of surprise, perhaps also of hope for having his conflict understood and put into words. Thrawn must proceed with caution, lest Eli’s feelings aren’t fully resolved and pain drives him into an emotional state that makes reasoning unproductive.
“But it was not out of… carelessness or laziness. You made me feel…” A pause. Thrawn’s brow furrowed slightly, the familiar discomfort of making himself vulnerable gnawing at him, reminding him of all he had held in his heart and that he had lost.
If he held back, however, he would lose Eli. This was the time for him to act and now that Eli had expressed his uncertainty over his own actions, Thrawn saw that he must bring the conviction and determination to provide Eli with the safety he had lacked in their personal life. Because that had been what had driven Eli into the state of frustration and burnout that had demanded him to step back from the relationship.
“… you made me feel safe and comfortable, and I fell into the idleness of… being home,” Thrawn concluded, holding Eli’s gaze. So much had always been spoken wordlessly between them through exchanged looks and Thrawn knew this to be no different, yet he pushed through the suffocating unease in his chest. Eli needed, deserved the effort. “I thought… I was giving you enough already, because I had never given myself to anyone before. But I realise now that… I was still holding back. And that you needed more so as not to feel like… you are not my tool, but my consort.”
Another pause. Eli’s whole body is relaxed, but there are still immense grief and longing in his gaze. He wants to speak now. The absence of tension indicates that Thrawn has succeeded in aiding him reaching a position from where he can proceed.
With a sigh, Eli rubbed his face again and ran his fingers through his hair. He shifted in his cushion, turning to fully face Thrawn. He tucked a leg underneath himself and slouched against the back of the couch.
“Why didn’t you talk to me about my return to the Empire?” Eli asked, quiet and tired, but no longer nervous or anxious. “Why… why always go behind my back, pulling strings to have me by your side without talking to me? It makes me feel like… I’m something useful you don’t want to part from, and like you don’t trust me…”
Eta chose that moment to jump onto the couch, landing precisely on the small space between Thrawn’s and Eli’s knees. Instinctively now, Thrawn reached out to pet his ysalamiri, though he never broke eye-contact from Eli.
He was pleased, however, that Eli looked away from him and to Eta, features softening slightly.
“I was uncertain of the result,” Thrawn said, scratching under Eta’s chin. Again, Eli looked up at him. The softness of his look hardens into something serious; perhaps understanding of the implications of ‘uncertainty’. The slightest tension pushes his shoulders back, as if he were becoming protective. “When I reached out to Ar’alani, Vader had just begun a lightning campaign against his adversaries. I was certain he would emerge victorious and that his rule would be more honest than the previous Emperor’s. Many of Vader’s enemies were my own, and with their disappearance I calculated a margin of safety for your return. But…” In his peripheral, Thrawn noticed Eta turning her curiosity towards Eli. Her chin abandoned his scratching and she turned her back at him, looking fully at Eli, assessing him.
Eli reached out to pet Eta, flashing her a brief smile before focusing again on Thrawn.
Eli’s eyes flicker quickly between Thrawn’s own gaze and the invisible smile on Thrawn’s lips. With a slight shift in position, Eli inches closer and continues to pet Eta and to look Thrawn in the eyes. His serious expression remains; understanding dawns in it as he likely puts together the pieces Thrawn hasn’t given him yet.
“… I did not know if the Ascendancy would let you go. I could not mention you to Vader because of the turbulence at the time. I had to make an interesting offer to the Ascendancy to have you back in Imperial space.”
“An informant. Because the Ascendancy doesn’t trust you, but Ar’alani still has enough credibility to point out that it’s best to keep tabs on the new government, one whose new ruler also possesses unnatural abilities… and I had been entrusted with the vital secrets of Third Sight already,” Eli sighs, closes his eyes momentarily and hangs his head low. “How did you talk Ar’alani into-“
“I spoke logically at first… then I revealed to her how dear you are to me.”
“She was furious.”
“She believes I’ve been contaminated by human irrationality.”
“She let you walk away with this.”
“She was a good friend.”
Eli’s head snaps up, grief written all over his face. He reaches out again, not to Eta; he cups Thrawn’s cheek with a steady, warm hand. The warmth is pleasant, familiar. Thrawn inclines his head into the touch, accepting it and demonstrating his gratitude. His hand covers Eli’s, testing, before mimicking Eli’s gesture. Eli’s skin is warm to the touch, unchanged by the years spent in the Ascendancy.
“You would be the informant, the Human imbued in Chiss culture. And the Force-sensitive children would be brought for a short training – enough to unlock more of their potential and extend their usefulness, provide them with the means to defend themselves against enemies, and brief enough to retain secrecy. Answers would be provided by a real Jedi Master. Then I had to convince Vader to see the value in my bargain: apprentices for his son and a key element for his government.”
“A competent data analyst… important in times of unrest, and one who understands logistics and supply chains…”
“But I had to reveal more… and to my shock, Vader understood.”
After the mind-numbing news of becoming the Director of the ISB, Eli had spent the night between quiet panic and anxious retrospect of his entire thirty-two years of life.
His humble childhood, travelling, staying out of trouble, deciding on a career that would help his parents.
His teenagerhood, too focused in studies to enjoy it and then stuck with Thrawn, with no prospects of having his life ever again, resentment slowly yet decisively replaced by admiration and appreciation for the Chiss.
His twenties, adventure and danger and romance and heartbreak, again an alien except literally this time around.
His thirties, bitter and lonely and hopeless… but that could maybe still be changed.
Eli had thought of his family, of home and what it meant; Eli had thought of the Academy and of bullying, of having served in different ships and under different commanders, of protection and delayed promotions; Eli had thought of the Grysks and of Stardust and of treason and loyalties.
Eli had thought of everything he hadn’t seen but that Thrawn had. Because that had always been what they had done: complementing each other, covering each other’s blind spots.
The panic had lingered, quiet, when Eli marched into the Archives with a disposable cup of caf in hand to find Luke already there, tinkering with the broken console and arguing with R2 about bad connections and broken cables. Eli had announced his presence by very quietly stating that he had messed up. It had been vague and yet when Luke had looked at him, the understanding was clear and so had been the reassurance that Eli was no longer alone and fending off for himself.
The day had dragged by: comforting enough from routine, dreadful from the knowledge of who had returned to Coruscant, slow and restless and draining… until the moment Eli had found himself being smuggled from the back of Luke’s speeder bike and into the royal family’s apartment so that he could access the turbolift in the foyer and travel down a few floors in the 500 Republica, the most secure and well-protected civilian building in Coruscant, in order to go knock on Thrawn’s door – the door number acquired not through the powers and resources of Eli’s new job, but through Luke.
Because the Emperor had casually commented with his son how long the meeting with High Command would take and that said High Command would have no other duties before another meeting the next day.
Because Luke was Eli’s friend.
Because good-natured help had never diminished Eli’s own effort and hard-work and merit. He had worked hard by Thrawn’s side to keep up with the Chiss and he had worked hard within himself to recognise that he had made a mistake. And just as Thrawn had seen brilliance in him and had helped it bloom… so Luke had seen Eli’s turmoil and had helped him sort it.
The red eyeliner on Thrawn’s crimson gaze had twisted something in Eli’s chest, something painful yet at the same time relieving, like a dislocated bone pushed into place.
Sitting across from Thrawn, Eli leaned into the hand cupping his cheek, allowing himself to enjoy the familiar cold and the comfort he had pushed away last time.
“But I had to reveal more… and to my shock, Vader understood,” Thrawn said quietly, his brows furrowing slightly with the clear puzzlement of having misread someone who he supposedly knew already.
The obvious familiarity that Thrawn had with the Emperor was a story that Eli really wanted to hear to clear the blurred picture that Luke – and Vader himself – had already given him. But that had time.
“Luke did say his fath- the Emperor sees beyond… tools and assets,” Eli confirmed, with a sudden surge of gratitude towards Luke. He turned his head some more into the cold blue hand cupping his cheek, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “And the Emperor said you were both annoying and compelling in recommending me.”
Through semi-closed lids, Eli watched a small, amused smile grow in Thrawn’s lips. He couldn’t help but reply with a smile of his own that felt to him the first genuine smile since his return to the Empire.
“You didn’t know he was testing me to see if I was everything you said,” Now that that part was over, Eli allowed himself a little amusement at hoe Thrawn had been… pranked.
That wiped Thrawn’s smile off his face and made him narrow his eyes in the way he did when he realised something that, according to him, should have been obvious and easy to see.
“Accepting you back in Imperial ranks had been his design all along.”
“He said you were annoying…” Eli repeated with a big grin. “… and he doesn’t look like he has much patience for that.”
Thrawn’s face blanked, humbled yet so clearly plotting revenge for the lesson he had been taught that Eli couldn’t help but laugh.
Brief as it was, it was everything laughter should be.
It ended in a strangled, broken sound. Eli screwed his eyes shut and began to pull away from Thrawn’s touch, only to collapse into the Chiss’ chest when Thrawn wrapped his arms around Eli to pull him close. Vaguely aware of Eta climbing onto his lap only to cross over to the free cushion behind him, Eli clung to Thrawn with abandon and burrowed his face in the crook of Thrawn’s neck. The arms around Eli held him tightly, protectively, safely… desperately. With Thrawn’s ridged forehead pressed to the side of Eli’s neck, his shaky breaths mingled with Thrawn’s and for a long time that was the only sound that Eli could hear. He focused on Thrawn’s familiar scent, on the bone-shattering grip Thrawn had on him, on Thrawn’s heartbeat reverberating through their pressed chests.
After four painful years, Eli was home – and so was Thrawn.
The relief, however, was short-lived. Apprehension followed suit and Eli pushed away slightly, his movement promptly mirrored by Thrawn. But the embrace remained, tight and safe and home, when their heads stood only centimetres apart and they breathed each other’s air, noses touching and almost fogging up Eli’s brain.
Almost.
“You’ll go in campaigns and patrols again,” Eli said quietly, his gaze low. In his arms, Thrawn’s body tensed slightly, maybe not from an unforeseen element brought into light but from… resignation, or preparation to continue a delicate subject. “And I will stay in my office.”
“But I will always return to Coruscant…” A pause, but the silence screamed of vulnerability and fear. Listening to it made Eli nuzzle slightly at the tip of Thrawn’s nose, encouraging him to continue, begging him to carry as much as Eli. “… and… should you wish… we will not hide anymore.”
That made Eli pull away some more, enough to look at Thrawn with wide eyes. But the fragility in Thrawn’s features was already hardening into that all-or-nothing determination from legends. Chiss either attained their goals… or died trying.
“I promised you safety,” Thrawn said evenly, switching from Basic to Cheunh. “And the Emperor promised honesty and merit. I know I can trust Vader.”
Eli swallowed around an anxious lump in his throat – but what was there to even consider? He and Thrawn had survived this far – they had survived bigotry, the Academy, courts-martial, Navy regulations on fraternisation, Imperial politics, Ascendancy politics, Assistant Director Ronan, Grysks, rebels, Thrawn’s overzealousness, Vader being done, and Eli’s existential crisis.
What could possibly break apart a military genius such as Thrawn and a data analyst with an eye for logistics such as Eli?
“Then…” Eli said, also in Cheunh, to retain the solemnity that the ridiculous smile spreading across his face was threatening to take away. “… I know I can trust you.”
Heart-rate increases. Body temperature rises. Logical thinking falters but willpower remains.
Thrawn angled his head and leaned in, gently, tentatively, brushing his lips to Eli’s. He asked for permission as much as he invited, using all his remarkable self-control not to rush into victory celebrations.
From all human displays of romantic love, Thrawn found kissing the most artful.
Restraint became harder when Eli responded, the lightest touch of his lips to Thrawn’s and his hands resting on Thrawn’s cheeks, cupping his face and warming his skin. Then Eli pressed himself closer, covered Thrawn’s lips with his fully and gently flicked his tongue at Thrawn’s bottom lip, giving permission and accepting the invitation.
Only three things made Thrawn lose track of time and of his surroundings.
A good, demanding spar.
Artwork.
And Eli N. Vanto.
Thrawn didn’t know for how long he and Eli kissed. It was full of longing, slow and thorough. It was passionate yet heartachingly innocent. At some point they reclined on the couch into a lying position, chest to chest, Eli sandwiched between the back of the couch and Thrawn; at some point their tangled legs must have pushed Eta out of her cushion; at some point they turned, Thrawn on his back and Eli on his chest – and that was when they broke the kiss, gasping for air.
Thrawn’s heart thunders in his chest. His lungs burn. His vision swims. His jaw seems strained at the hinges and his lips feel swollen. His tongue carries Eli’s taste. His body temperature has increased and he desires warmth, just a little more. Eli’s weight atop of him is comforting.
Eli’s lips are parted as he breathes deeply, his irises are hidden behind blown pupils. His entire being glows from raised temperature.
With a huff, Eli burrowed his head in the crook of Thrawn’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. It sent sparks through Thrawn’s bloodstream, sparks that warmed him and made his limbs and eyelids heavy.
For a moment longer, the only sound around them was their breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as small adjustments to their position were made.
“Will you stay tonight?” Thrawn asked quietly, forcing his eyes open. The sluggishness, made unfamiliar from the years spent apart, was pleasant and he was eager to welcome it. His fingers carded through Eli’s hair, the strands thick and soft just as Thrawn remembered.
“I… asked Luke to give me a ride back to the Temple…” Eli’s reply was sheepish and, a second later, he pushed himself up just slightly, supporting himself with folded arms on Thrawn’s chest. “I didn’t know if… we’d sort things.”
“We have.”
“We have.”
“I had prepared the apartment for you. If you wish to stay overnight, one of the cabinets in the office is actually a foldable bed. There are clothes and hygiene products for you.”
Uncertainty shadows Eli’s face, causing alarm to sharpen Thrawn’s senses. He props himself up on his elbows, pushing down Eli a little but manoeuvring him between his legs to prevent him from slipping onto the floor. Perhaps Thrawn has hastened, perhaps Thrawn has been made overconfident and committed a mistake – though Eli’s expression doesn’t appear to hold tension nor regret.
“I’m sorry. I can take you to the Imperial Pal- to the Temple myself.”
“Thrawn…” Eli shook his head, slowly, a smile spreading on his lips and easing the knot that had suddenly formed in Thrawn’s chest. “… it’s just that I have to get to the Temple earlier than you do. The meeting with the Emperor is at 1000. I need to be at the ISB Central Office at 0830 and my issued speeder and my datapad are at the Temple.”
“I will take you to the Temple.”
“And sit around in the cafeteria while waiting for the meeting to start?”
“Obviously.”
Eli laughed, leaned in to press a small kiss to Thrawn’s lips, and eased himself atop of Thrawn again with an ear pressed over Thrawn’s heart. The silence that settled between them was comfortable, lulling Thrawn into content sluggishness once more, but the brief alarm from moments earlier remained in the back of his mind, clearing a place where his thoughts kept churning, strategizing, analysing.
“You have friends here,” Thrawn pointed out quietly, uncertain of how to express what he meant but refusing to keep the concept to himself. He would need to constantly watch his mind, perhaps Eli would need to call him out at times, but Thrawn was set on leaving no more words unspoken between himself and Eli. “Pik and Waffle have asked about you.”
“Faro hasn’t?”
“I dissuaded her.”
“I heard she’s Rear Admiral.”
“She has her own fleet, but her ships need retrofitting. In the meantime, she’s back at the Chimaera,” A pause. “Is Vah’nya still a navigator?”
Eli didn’t know how long he spent blanketing Thrawn, feeling lazy yet wide awake.
They talked.
It wasn’t often that it happened. Through the years, Eli had learned that Thrawn processed and constructed in silence or verbally, according to how comfortable he felt with the topic or the urgency of the situation. Idle chatter between them had been… rare, cherished. Mostly, Thrawn expressed himself with precise wording or explicit silence.
But now they talked. About the civil war, about the previous Emperor, about how Thrawn had gotten his ysalamiri, about the new Empire, about the friends Eli had made in the Ascendancy, about Thrawn’s solitude, about Eli’s new friends, about Thrass and Ba’kif and Samakro and Thalias and Che'ri, about Eli’s parents. It hurt… but not in a way that blinded with pain and anger; it was a simple assessment of sores that had gone neglected and were now finally being cleaned and dressed, bringing relief and hope.
Eli would always miss Vah’nya, but he knew he had never belonged among the Chiss; Eli knew Thrawn would always long for the Ascendancy… even if Thrawn didn’t belong there, nor did he belong fully in the Empire.
Eli could sort that now. From his vantage point atop of Thrawn, his victories paraded before his eyes, bringing the quiet realisation that he had won the most from Thrawn’s stay in the Empire.
Not the Ascendancy; he.
Reaching for one of Thrawn’s hands, Eli entwined their fingers and held tight, pouring everything into it. He smiled, grateful and brief, as Thrawn squeezed his hand in return. He wouldn’t sleep in Thrawn’s bed that night, however. Maybe the following night, but for the time being, Eli was content in being in Thrawn’s space again.
“I need to send Luke a message to let him know that… I won’t need a ride,” Eli said quietly as he freed his hand and extracted himself from his comfortable spot atop of Thrawn. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, calculating the amount of explaining to do the next day… but that was a problem for Future Eli.
But was it really a problem?
For the first time in four years Eli could say he had a good night of sleep – even if, when the alarm of his wrist comm went off, he woke up to find himself curled by the very edge of the narrow bed while Eta lay sprawled and deep asleep on the place Eli had previously occupied.
And for the first time in four years Eli had breakfast, made with real food, at home, with feeling.