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Eli stepped into Grand Admiral Thrawn's office, his uniform flawless, his posture taut with caution. The sudden summons at this hour felt different from the usual late-night briefings. Tonight, the room wasn't filled with star maps or historical texts. Thrawn's desk was completely clear, except for three datapads resting in a neat row. Thrawn sat behind the desk, hands folded beneath his chin, his red eyes locking onto Eli the moment he entered.
"You requested my presence, sir?" Eli asked, stepping forward to stand at attention.
"Sit, Eli," Thrawn said, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk.
Eli hesitated for a second, the casual use of his name making his pulse quicken. He sat down, hands resting on his knees.
Thrawn did not beat around the bush. For him, the data was complete, and transparency was the only logical next step. "Over the past seven days, I have conducted an operational variance isolation," Thrawn began, his voice calm and measured. "I noticed several significant deviations in my own focus and physiological baseline following our extended cultural discussions. To understand the root cause, I initiated an experiment."
Eli blinked, a faint frown wrinkling his forehead. "An experiment, sir?"
"Yes." Thrawn picked up the first datapad, turning it toward Eli. "I suspended our non-essential meetings to isolate the variable, which was your presence. I tasked Commodore Faro with monitoring your efficiency during the separation. She, in turn, recognized a flaw in my methodology and tasked Captain Pellaeon with monitoring my own behavior." Thrawn moved all three datapads across the smooth surface of the desk, stopping them in front of Eli.
"The results are comprehensive," Thrawn said, a subtle trace of pride in his voice. "The data shows a synchronized drop in your emotional baseline, a repeated tracking pattern in my own visual focus on the bridge, and a significant increase in my heart rate during personal interactions with you." The available evidence supports only one conclusion." Thrawn looked at him, his red gaze unblinking and entirely open. "The attachment is mutual, Eli. My hypothesis was confirmed."
Eli didn't pick up the datapads. He just stared at them, reading the columns of numbers, logged times of his own movements, the precise, dry observations typed up by Pellaeon and Faro. Thrawn watched him, waiting for the acknowledgment of the data. He expected Eli to see the transparency for what it was, a profound gesture of trust. Nothing was hidden. He had laid his entire heart out in a series of empirical charts.
But Eli wasn't smiling. Slowly, he raised his head, pale and wide-eyed. He wasn't angry. Instead, he looked… hollowed out. Hurt. "You had me observed," Eli whispered, his voice fragile.
Thrawn’s brows furrowed slightly. "The parameters required an objective third party to ensure—"
"You had people tracking how often I looked down the hall," Eli interrupted, his voice trembling as he stood up from the chair. "You had Pellaeon writing down logs because you couldn't just... you couldn't just talk to me?"
"Eli, the scientific accuracy of the emotional attachment—"
"I am not a science project, Thrawn!" Eli said, raw emotion finally cracking through his tone. He shook his head, looking down at the three datapads like they were poisonous. "We sat in your office for hours, talking about my home. We talked about families and traditions, lullabies and door-paintings. You can sit with me all night talking about a piece of braided rope, but you can't look me in the eye and ask me how I feel?"
Thrawn stood up slowly, his hands dropping to his sides. For the first time, he faced the distinct, terrifying sensation of a situation slipping entirely out of his control. Every logical argument he had prepared felt useless, like trying to fight a plasma fire with a navigation chart. "The experiment was designed to eliminate doubt," Thrawn tried to explain, his voice lower, almost pleading. "I required certainty before introducing a personal variable into our operational dynamic. I did it because your position on this ship—and in my life—matters."
"Certainty," Eli repeated, exhaling a short, bitter breath. He looked at Thrawn, his eyes shiny with a rejection Thrawn hadn't factored into any of his equations. "You succeeded with your experiment, sir. But you completely failed the conversation."
Thrawn froze. The words hit him like a physical blow.
Eli stepped back from the desk, wrapping his arms around himself. "I need some time. Not... I just need some time away from the briefings. Just standard duties, sir."
Thrawn opened his mouth to speak, to offer another explanation, anything to bridge the sudden, massive chasm between them, but he stopped himself. "Very well, Lieutenant."
Eli offered a stiff salute, turned on his heel and walked out. The blast door hissed shut, leaving Thrawn alone with his three perfect, useless reports.
~~☆~~
Two days passed. On the bridge, everything remained strictly professional. Eli performed his duties flawlessly, but he never looked at the command walkway, never once meeting Thrawn's eyes. Whatever warmth had existed between them was gone, replaced by a cold distance that weighed on Thrawn every time he stepped onto the deck.
Commodore Faro picked up on it at once. She watched Eli hand over a logistics file with a face like stone, and she watched Thrawn stand on the walkway, staring out at the stars, his expression unusually grim. During the evening shift change, Faro walked into Thrawn's office to deliver routine sector updates. She laid her datapad down and stood at attention.
Thrawn didn't pick it up. He sat staring at the empty space across his desk. "Commodore," he said into the quiet room.
"Sir?"
Thrawn hesitated. When he looked up, his red eyes held a question she had never expected to see in the Grand Admiral. "Did I make an error?"
Faro looked at him. She considered her response carefully, choosing her words not as a subordinate talking to a commander, but with the protective loyalty of a friend. "No, sir."
Thrawn's eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.
"Not in your reasoning," Faro added, leaning in just a bit. "In your assumption. You assumed evidence could replace trust, sir. You tried to calculate something that can only be given."
Thrawn stared at her, the meaning of her words slowly becoming clear. He folded his hands, his head bowing slightly. "I see," he murmured.
"He'll come around, sir," Faro said, her lips curling into a subtle, encouraging smile. "But leave the datapads in the drawer next time." She saluted and left the room.
*
The following night, Thrawn sent a message to Eli's personal terminal requesting a meeting after duty. The reply came quickly. Eli accepted.
When Eli entered the office later that evening, the atmosphere felt different. The three datapads sat in a neat stack at the corner of the desk, untouched. The lights were dimmed, and two cups of fresh, steaming Lysatran tea rested on the surface. Eli stood near the door, his posture guarded. "Sir."
Thrawn stood by the viewport, his hands loosely behind his back. "Thank you for coming, Eli," he said, turning around but staying where he was, giving Eli his space. "No reports tonight."
Eli looked at the steaming tea, then back to Thrawn, his shoulders dropping slightly, though his eyes remained wary. "Then why am I here?"
"Because I made a profound error," Thrawn admitted, stepping forward but keeping a respectful distance. "I believed certainty was necessary before speaking. I sought empirical proof before taking a step that might jeopardize our dynamic. I attempted to understand you through observation, when I should have understood you through conversation."
Eli stayed quiet, waiting for Thrawn to continue.
"I was guarded," Thrawn admitted, his red eyes revealing a vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to see. "I allowed my own discomfort with the incalculable to distance myself from you. I feared that if I assumed your feelings were reciprocal, I would risk losing the very foundation we have built." Thrawn paused, giving Eli time to absorb the words. "May I ask you something now, Eli?"
Eli studied him, the tension around his mouth loosening. "Go ahead."
"Did my caution cause you to believe I viewed you merely as an object of study?" Thrawn’s voice dropped. "Did I make you feel insignificant?"
The question hung between them. Eli took a step forward, looking down at the dark floor before meeting Thrawn's gaze. "It wasn't that I felt small, Thrawn. It hurt." Eli gestured vaguely toward the desk. "We spent weeks sitting in this room. I told you about my family, my home, things I don't tell anyone. And when it came to something this important, you couldn't just look at me. You treated me like a lab rat. You had Pellaeon taking notes because you were too afraid to take a chance on me."
"I was," Thrawn acknowledged. "It was an act of cowardice, masked as methodology."
Eli blinked, visibly taken aback by the admission. He looked at Thrawn, seeing a sincerity in him that made the last of his guard begin to crumble. "Humans don't process affection through data points, Thrawn," Eli said, his tone softening and losing its bitter edge. "We need to know the other person is taking the leap with us. We need the risk."
"Then I'll take the risk." There was no hesitation in Thrawn's words.
Eli stared at him for a long moment before he walked over to the desk and picked up one of the warm cups of Lysatran tea. He took a sip, the heat spreading in his chest. When he set the cup back down, he reached over to the three datapads sitting at the corner of the desk. One by one, he tapped their power buttons.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The small display lights went dark. Eli looked up with bright eyes. "No more experiments," he said. "If you want to know something... just ask me."
Thrawn nodded, a strange, overwhelming warmth unfurling in his chest. He looked at Eli, finally letting go of his last uncertainty. "I will say it directly, then. My affection for you is not a variable, Eli. You have become essential to me."
Eli caught his breath, finally relaxing as the words sank in. A small, warm smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Stepping out of his analytical shell, Thrawn asked another question. “Would you stay for a while?”
“Absolutely.” Eli’s smile widened, warm and playful. “And since you’ve spent weeks asking about my world,” he stepped closer, looking up with a spark in his eyes. “Would you mind if I asked about yours?” His voice dropped a notch. “For example... how Chiss pursue physical intimacy.”
Thrawn froze for a moment, his red eyes glowing brighter in the dim light. A tiny, rare smile, one that no one else would ever see, crossed his face. “Not at all,” Thrawn whispered and reached out, his blue fingers wrapping around Eli’s waist, pulling him against his chest.
Eli didn’t hesitate. He reached up, his fingers tangling into the dark blue hair at the nape of Thrawn’s neck, drawing him into a deep, breathless kiss while beyond the viewport, the stars remained sparkling and distant.