Chapter Text
Admiral Ar’alani of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet was rarely at a loss for words. Her position demanded that she always have at least a tentative course of action and at least three times as many alternatives on deck, but there was still the occasional situation that stumped her. The human spoke in very broken Sy Bisti, his hands held up in a universal gesture of surrender. He looked frightened, but relieved. She quickly understood why.
On the single cot, his long greasy hair spilling over his shoulder, exacerbating the dim glow of his eerily vacant eyes, was Thrawn.
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“There is plenty wrong with him,” The medcenter’s chief physician said. She was a very tall, very slender woman with delicate features, but a sternness in her eyes that stressed how seriously she took her profession. “Deficiencies, imbalances, improperly healed injuries…” She trailed off, sparing Ar’alani more information she had already heard about.
“Brain damage?”
“Thankfully none,” The doctor confirmed. “I realize it seemed that way, given his condition upon discovery, but our tests came back normal. Brain activity was good, neural pathways are intact. Whatever is going on with him,” She fixed the admiral with a piercing gaze, “We can fix the physical aspects. But the mental-”
“His experiences have changed him,” Ar’alani allowed. “From what his travelling companion has been able to tell us, it was a slow descent into this condition. He does not believe there is any catalyst or outside force that pushed him into this state that can be explained by normal forces.”
“And it can be explained by paracausal means?” The chief physician deadpanned.
The admiral sighed. “What I am about to impart upon you is of the strictest confidentiality, Physician Plikh’ihl’inaro,” She fixed the other woman with her most serious of expressions. “The human who accompanied Mitth’raw’nuruodo is what his people call Jedi,” She began. “They are akin to ozyly-esehemembo,” She continued.
This was, after all, a naval facility, so Ar’alani was not surprised when the revelation did not phase the doctor, but the woman merely returned her hands to her white-coat’s pockets. “Admiral, did the Jeh-dai say anything about a potential trigger?”
“He suspects Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s former Empire may have compromised him.” Yes, what the human had been able to communicate to her was harrowing at the very least. What Thrawn’s former master had done to him… She shook her head microscopically, willing that thought away. If she ever had cause to enter Lesser Space again, she would gladly wrap her hands around his neck and watch the light fade from his eyes. Him and his cyborg pet, too.
“Perhaps,” Physician Plikh’ihl’inaro exhaled. “Or perhaps the strain upon his psyche has caused him to withdraw. I have seen his file. I am aware of what stressors our people have thrust upon him. I imagine the circumstances of his exile-” At that she gave Ar’alani a pointed look that suggested she was not stupid and didn’t believe that for an instant, “Were only the very beginning of the strain upon him.”
They could talk in circles for days, Ar’alani suspected. She did not have that kind of time. “What does this mean for his recovery?”
The physician’s gaze softened. “It means that while we can provide the tools and resources, ultimately, Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s recovery is up to him.”
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Thrawn would not look at her. Would not look at anyone. The machines in his room that monitored vital signs pinged softly with ambient noises that indicated positive metrics. It was the only sound to be heard.
He moved occasionally, but did not speak. His despondent gaze seemed to travel through her when she forced herself into his personal space. She had tried everything. Treating him normally, as if nothing had changed. Treating him gently, like she had in those rare moments he sought her out as both his commander and his friend, looking for guidance. When that had failed, she’d attempted screaming at him.
It was as if he had withdrawn so far into himself he no longer ceased to be.
That thought was terrifying. She had long since learned to get on without him. But there were great threats out there - to their people, to the galaxy, really - and it was not right that he should be anywhere but standing beside her against them. It was where he belonged. It was his destiny.
Not knowing what else to do, and knowing she couldn’t prevent the eventuality of it even if she tried, she called upon those rare few she knew could be trusted.
Thalias had not known what to do. She had sat with Thrawn for hours. It had been an admirable attempt, her soothing words, her gentle tone. She’d treated him like a skittish Navigator. He would not indulge her. Eventually, he had rolled over to face the wall, curled in on himself, and gone to sleep. Ar'alani had to console the younger woman, who reluctantly admitted that seeing Thrawn like that had been one of the most difficult things she had ever had to face.
Thalias’ former ward, Che’ri, renamed Micher - short for Kimi’che’ri, had also come as soon as she’d been informed by her former momish. Now well into adulthood, the woman had fared well, but had not been able to stand it when the man who had taught her to fly - who had helped her to face her fears and embrace her casual art hobby - had flinched away from her hand when she’d reached for his.
She’d attempted calling upon his former enemy turned travelling partner. The Jedi had sat quietly - unnervingly so - but after about an hour he had said there was nothing he could do, and had requested to return to his temporary lodgings aboard Ar’alani’s flagship.
In the end, she called in what she figured would be the end of it. General Ba’kif - older now, his age showing - had come in late on the final morning Ar’alani had been able to spare away from her fleet. He had summarily dismissed her, his hand soothing on her shoulder as he steered her toward the medcenter’s exit, taking care to walk her all the way outside, to guide her into a hover car most likely headed to somewhere comfortable for her to both eat and sleep. “Let me sit with him a while,” He’d said.
He had not made any more headway than the others, and when she had returned that evening before the end of visiting hours, she’d heard more than she wanted to. She shouldn’t have been surprised. They had all placed their faith in him. He was their hope, a shield against the darkness that surrounded them. A desperately needed commander with a brilliant mind. One that the Ascendancy had so grossly undervalued.
She sat with him until the medics politely asked her to leave. She didn’t have the heart to find out if he would also flinch away from her, as he had to all the others. Ignoring the way her eyes burned, Ar’alani left him in silence.
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Eli’van’to looked tired. Then again, to Admiral Ar’alani, the human always looked exhausted, with his dull, lightless dark eyes, his infrared signature throwing additional color across his strangely brown complexion near-constantly.
She had explained the situation to him carefully - worried about his highly polarized emotions - and waited patiently for the cacophony of questions he would no doubt produce. And yet… none came. It had been an uncomfortable decision to inform her lone human commander about this situation. She was cognizant of their mentor-protege relationship, but also their years together in close quarters. Perhaps he would have something useful for them.
Ultimately, it had been how keenly Thrawn had trusted him that had made the decision for her, no matter how little she liked it. “If you choose to visit him, you should be made aware,” She said carefully. “Others close to him have not been able to reach him.”
“I understand,” He’d said, and his dark eyes, while still dull, had shifted to their peculiar glint of resolve.
“You cannot fix him,” She warned him, watching his face heat in the visible spectrum through the projection. She knew that look, the one that said he was tearing apart a problem. One that said he had a theory he wished to test. “And you have other matters you must attend to.”
“I understand, admiral.” His face went instantly calm and placid. He was learning, even if he’d never be able to escape the biological failings of his species to evade such overt giveaways of emotional state.
“So long as you do,” She said, and turned the conversation elsewhere. “I assume you have insights for me regarding the Vagaari operation.”
He stiffened and followed her lead, instinctively reaching for his questis. “Yes, of course.”
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Thrawn remained still and unmoving when the technicians came in to manually confirm his vital signs, to adjust the nutrient and intravenous lines, to refresh both his body and the bedding. He did not pick a specific point on the wall so much as his eyes merely looked that direction. He was limp, malleable. Thoughts, emotions, everything was so far away from him.
It was a long while before he heard the sounds of tapping, before he recognized the sounds of work - even longer still before he realized them for what they were. It was someone else, someone who had not been here before. He curled in on himself, feeling the muted burn of the intravenous line in the crook of his elbow, putting his back to the newcomer, whomever they were.
Whatever they wanted, Thrawn would not be able to give it to them. He had nothing left. He had tried. He had failed. And he had lost everything.