Work Text:
You tried to keep the grimace off your face as you walked stiffly toward Thrawn’s office.
You were still sore from your mission. It was meant to be easy reconnaissance, in and out, no problems; but, as usual, problems were exactly what you got.
The rebels were either getting better at spotting imperial officers or you were getting sloppy. Either way, a fire fight broke out leaving you with a couple of bruised ribs and the start of a headache. Luckily, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. You had still managed to get the information you sought back to The Chimaera. Your alias was burned, but your mission was complete. You’d call that a stalemate.
Once you had been discharged from the medical bay, you had hoped to be given time to rest, but no sooner had you set a toe out the door, Thrawn called you for a meeting. You knew he had a tendency toward tunnel vision when it came to new information and so knew better than to request a delay.
You didn’t bother to knock on the door, your exhaustion wearing down your usual instinct for protocol.
To your surprise, you weren’t met by illuminated artwork or even a star map displayed in the center room. There was only Thrawn sitting behind his desk, with a data pad in hand.
“I did not give you permission to enter, Captain,” Thrawn said, curtly.
You were immediately taken aback. You straightened to attention as confusion washed over your features.
“You asked me to come, sir. I presumed you meant immediately.”
“That may be true, but that does not prevent you from following procedure.”
You frowned, but quickly covered it with military neutrality.
“My apologizes, I will not happen again.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. The unease remained in the air, and you felt the sudden urge to shift in your stance.
“What did you wish to speak to me about, sir,” you said, trying to get back on subject.
“Your report states the rebels discovered your identity. How did this happen?”
A small amount of relief filled you. This was the Thrawn you knew, quick and to the point.
“I don’t know,” you said, honestly. “As far as I am aware, this cell is isolated from others I have been in contact with. Unless they were able to get their hands on Imperial records, I cannot see how they could have discovered who I was.”
“And that is your understanding of the matter?”
“It is.”
“Then it will come as a shock to you to know that this cell has also been in contact with Fulcrum.”
Your eyes widened. How was that possible? You knew Fulcrum to be a title some rebels carried as a calling card for potential recruits, but you had always been under the assumption they remained within the same handful of systems.
Thrawn slid the data pad across his desk, a silent order to read.
You did so, scrolling through the report.
Your lips pressed into a hard line. Your suspicions were correct. The rebels were organizing. It was a growing pattern encompassing more systems with each passing cycle. The one you had run into had no doubt been warned of your presence.
“When was this submitted?” you asked, closing the document.
“0900,” Thrawn answered, his voice still holding a sharpness you were now starting to recognize as anger.
You nodded, unsure how exactly to proceed. It wasn’t as if you could have known the rebels knew who you were. You had left The Chimaera three hours earlier with strict orders for radio silence until your mission was complete.
“We shall have to be more careful in the future,” you said.
“This isn’t a trivial matter, Captain!” Thrawn snapped. His eyes met yours and you felt yourself actually flinch.
The cool commander you knew had disappeared into a man wholly consumed by fury. The steady burn on his red eyes were now a wildfire, one aimed directly at you.
Still, you stood your ground, raising your chin to the challenge.
“I do not take it as such,” you said, coolly. “If rebel cells are now finding each other, then who we send into the field and when will have to be placed under higher scrutiny. The next mission—”
“There won’t be a next mission,” Thrawn cut off. “You are suspended from the field until further notice.”
“Sir—”
“That’s an order, Captain!”
That should have been enough to silence you. In any other circumstance you would have made you exit and approached him later when cooler heads could prevail. But you were tired and sore, making it easy for frustration to rise in your throat.
“What did I do wrong?” you asked, through gritted teeth. “Tell me exactly what it is I did that calls for my suspension.”
“Your alias is burned, that is enough to suspend any officer,” Thrawn answered, easily.
“One of my aliases is burned,” you shot back. “I have dozens more. And despite that, I finished my mission. The discovery of my identity had nothing to do with my actions in the field. Now tell me exactly what I did wrong!”
Thrawn looked taken back, some of the anger fading ever so slightly from his features.
“My decision is not a reflection of your abilities,” he assured. “We have no idea just how many cells are in contact with one another. Any number of your aliases may be compromised.”
“We can make an estimated guess as to which ones,” you insisted. “I’ve spent years cultivating these contacts. If you put me back in the field now, some of them may be salvageable.”
Thrawn’s eyes flashed, and you realized you had said exactly the wrong thing.
“I will not have you risk your life for the sake of professional pride.”
“Pride?!”
“Yes, pride.” He stood from his chair moving around the desk toward you. “You lost Captain. Take the defeat with dignity.”
“This isn’t something I can just start again from scratch!”
“You are a talented officer, you’ll manage.”
Your jaw clenched and your head throbbed. How could he be so brilliant and yet so oblivious?
“Being an intelligence officer isn’t like being a navigator or a gunner,” you fumed. “I can’t just open a manual and learn the basics all over again. Those contacts are the only thing that gives my title meaning. What use am I if I’m not allowed to use them?”
“None if you get yourself killed in the process!” Thrawn barked.
“I accepted that risk when I joined the service. Don’t tell me—”
You were cut off as Thrawn took your face in his hands and silenced you with a kiss. It was hard and different than any way he had kissed you before. You could feel his frustration and anger, but also something else. If he were any other man, you would have called it desperation. All the same, your own anger prevailed as you pushed him away.
“Don’t you dare think—”
He kissed you again. This time there was no denying it, he was desperate.
His hands moved from you face, wrapping themselves around your body as he pulled you tight against him. His lips held a hunger that made you ache. It was as if at any moment you would melt from his arms and each touch could be his last.
You couldn’t fight in anymore. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck.
He took the opportunity to kiss you even deeper as a low groan rumbled from his chest.
You hadn’t even noticed you were moving until you felt your ass press against the center display console.
Your momentary surprise was short lived as Thrawn took the opportunity to lift you the short distanced onto the table before placing himself securely between your legs.
On instinct you wrapped yourself around him, keeping you both in place as he once again claimed your lips with his.
The desperation was still there, but it wasn’t the heated passion it was just a moment before. It was slower, more deliberate, and closer to heart ache.
You pulled away, finally giving yourself the opportunity to look at him.
“Thrawn?”
He paused. The fire in his eyes had now dimmed to its normal steady glow. He looked younger somehow. The severity of his face had softened into that of a worried lover rather than a concerned commander. While you had been one of the privileged few to see it more than once, it still gave you pause every time you saw it.
With care he cupped the back of your neck and pulled your toward him, resting his forehead against yours.
He didn’t let go and you didn’t pull away. For a long while you stayed like that in perfect silence, only focusing on the breathing of the other.
“I know what the Empire asks of you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I cannot abide it.”
He looked up holding you in his gaze as he took your face in his hands.
“Your duty is not to die for the Empire. Your only duty is to return to this ship. Do you understand?” His tone made it sound like an order, but the look in his eyes made it clear was coming from some place much deeper.
You wanted to promise him everything. You wanted to assure him you would always come back and that his fears were for nothing; but you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be honest, and you had never lied to him before.
“I understand you’re being hypocritical,” you said, softly.
His brow furrowed.
“If you were given the decision between victory and death or defeat and survival, which would you choose?” you challenged.
His frown deepened as his face took on its standard impassive form.
“Survival,” he said.
You shook your head as a small smile formed on your lips. “You’re not as good as a liar as you think you are.”
His lips pressed together as if ready to protest only for him to let out a breath as he dropped his hands from your face. You were right.
“I would never ask you to choose defeat,” you said. “You cannot ask the same of me.”
He nodded, his gaze not quite reaching yours. “I know.”
Carefully, you reach out your hand, pressing it gently against his cheek.
As if on instinct he met your touch, his own hand covering yours. He then turned his head ever so slightly allowing his lips to press against your palm.
“There are times you frighten me,” he confessed.
You blinked in surprise. “I frighten you?”
He pulled his gaze to yours, never releasing his his grip on your hand. “I’ve always known myself. But I’m not sure what kind of man I would become if I lost you. I find I don’t want to know.”
Your eyes softened, as you guided him back toward you and allowed your forehead to press against his own.
“I can’t promise that you won’t,” you said, gently. “But I can promise to try to postpone that day for as long as possible. Will that be sufficient?”
He gave a small breath of a laugh, his lips forming into a half smile. “More than sufficient.”
He pressed his lips to yours enveloping you in a gentle kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. “More than you know.”
“Then show me,” you whispered.
There was still the matter of your burned alias, the rising rebel threat, and the real possibility of all-out war on the horizon; but they were problems for the future. For the night, at least, all you concerned yourself with was Thrawn’s worship and the pleasure that came with it.
You were both alive and that was enough.