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You feel the tension begin to bubble up from the bottom of your chest— it's an ache, acidic as it grows to clench around your heart.
You're panicking. You're used to this feeling, but it hurts just as much as that first time— how this always manage to take you by surprise? How does it always catch you in the unawares— when your shift on deck starts in half an hour and you're stuck in your bed. Your fingers feel numb where they rest over your heart; you're counting your heartbeats while your mind tries to tell you that you're having a heart attack.
Maybe this is how it ends, you think— not in the heat of a battle, not in the depths of an enemy prison, not in any honorable way. It ends here— your hand over your pulse and the other around your own throat as your body succumbs to the tricks of your own mind.
The next time you catch a glimpse of your bedside clock, it's the minutes past the start of your shift. You know they'll never accept this as an excuse.
The air feels thin— maybe the oxygen's been sabotaged? Maybe you really have been set up— no, this is you, you can't let your grip on reality loosen or you'll never male it off the floor—
It's the telltale whoosh of the doors to your quarters that alerts you presence of another, and you think this is it. This is a trooper here to take you to your reckoning, or the captain ready to drag you to the bridge anyway, or Vader, you think deliriously—
"Lieutenant?" a voice calls, and there's no way. No way they really sent the Admiral to ream you— stars, you'll never make it out alive—
"Lieutenant, where are—“ the Admiral starts, but he stops only a few feet away from where you crumpled when you tried to get out of bed.
“Grand Admiral, I'm- oh, kriff, I mean- oh gods-“ you stammer, and the tunnel vision begins to really settle in then. You've been late to a shift, you've cursed at the Admiral, you can't even provide a straight answer— how could you ever hope to get out of this one?
“Inhale deeply and exhale slowly, Lieutenant. Try to match your breathing so mine, " the Admiral adds, a knowing grimace on his lips. He’s closer, suddenly— kneeled on the ground in front of you with a hand outstretched, and you wonder how this must all look to a man of his stature. “Match my pace. You are not in trouble, but I believe you would be just as averse to taking a trip to medical for this as I would be, so I’m going to need you to try to focus,” he continues, and—he sounds genuine, he does, and he’s not one to lie—
Your next inhale is matched to his, but the exhale is too quick. He doesn’t chastise you or snap like you expect; instead, he reaches for your hand, pressing your fingertips to his pulse point. “Steady, Lieutenant. Take your time,” he murmurs, voice soft and reassuring as you both breathe in again, and this time, it works. The roaring in your ears quiets just a fraction, replaced by the full-force focus of your mind on the patter of the Admiral’s heartbeat, and you feel your lungs begin to work in increments, slowly relearning how to take in air.
It’s a few more minutes before the Admiral speaks again, your hand still gripped like a vice around his wrist. “I’m going to ask you to participate with me in an exercise that Lieutenant Vanto once showed me. Your responses do not need to be long, one word will suffice— do you feel capable of doing so?”
“Yes, Grand Admiral, whatever—“
“This is for you, Lieutenant. Not a demand, nor a command— merely an exercise. You will not be punished for feeling too overwhelmed,” he says, voice sharp and honest and… well, that’s new.
“I- I feel fine, Grand Admiral,” you whisper, your shaking fingers betraying the sentiment.
“Very well. We’ll begin— Lieutenant, I need you to tell me five things you can see around you in the cabin,” he replies, and you feel your brain turn the request over in confusion. Is this a test? Are you being prodded for functionality? “Grand Admiral, I’m not sure I—“
“This isn’t a trick, Lieutenant. I’m told it helps with the response your body is having, as it grounds you to your surroundings. It… it has helped me in the past, I would not patronize you,” he replies, and— stars, the sureness in his voice helps, it does.
“Alright, ah— I see… you, for one,” you say, awkward and stilted. “I see— my bunk. The gray walls, my… my toothbrush, and— I see your uniform pin.”
“Well done, Lieutenant. Now, give me four things you could touch,” the Admiral replies, a comforting— well, not a smile, but something playing on his lips. Your grip loosens on his wrist, and you feel the dizziness in your head subside a fraction. “Ah… the, um— the ground. Tiling, specifically— I could touch my sheets. Your… hand, the comm on my belt.”
“Very good. Try three things you can hear, next. Keep your breathing to mine.”
“O—kay, ah. I can hear… your voice. I can hear the ventilation above us, and… the boots of the troopers passing by,” you add, and the throughly of the troopers spikes something in your heartbeat again— maybe they’re here for you-
“Thank you, Lieutenant. The troopers are on their hourly shift change; nothing to fear from them, I promise. Give me two things you can smell, if you’re able,” he asks, and the sincerity is nearly overwhelming— you’d been sure this was it, that you’d have been thrown off the ship, but…
the expression on the Admiral’s face is nothing but kind. You take another deep breath, eyes closing as you breathe in your surroundings. “I— I think I can smell my sheets, I just… washed them, last night. And— your.. boots? Sir?”
“Polish, Lieutenant,” he says, a proper smile on his lips. “Very well done. Only one more— give me one thing you can taste,” he finishes, easing back onto his heels and giving you welcomed space. This one takes more focus— it’s the early shift, you haven’t been able to make it to the ‘fresher yet to brush your teeth. “Ah… it’s not— ideal, per se, but. I can taste the need for a refresher visit,” you grumble, your breathing steady and safe, and the Admiral laughs, properly— a sound you’ve never heard.
“I can leave you to it, Lieutenant, if you’re feeling well,” he says, more of that calm sincerity. “You need not worry about your bridge duties— Lieutenant Vanto and I informed the necessary parties that you were working on specific reports from myself. You have the remaining hour, if you should need it, before I will check back in for your status,” he continued, those glowing eyes trained fully on you, and—
— you feel the abrupt urge to cry, suddenly. How do you deserve this?
“Thank- thank you, Grand Admiral. I assure you, I will ready myself for duty as soon as—“
“Take your rest, Lieutenant. You’re one of our most talented, I do not believe that comes without welcomed days of rest. Take the time you need, as I said, I’ll check back,” he interrupts, gently squeezing your hand before rising to stand.
He leaves with a nod of assurance, and you’re left wondering, for a moment. Your breathing is steady, your chest has uncoiled, and— you feel good. Great, even— like a shower and a ration bar is all you’ll need.