Mirrorverse AU

[for_everyone]

In the past week or so, a strange feeling had been curling up inside Hera. Mitth'raw'nuruodo had been gone for nearly three weeks, leaving her alone with the crew of his ship for the first time. She had been terrified at first, even though she hadn't shown it – some part of Hera couldn't stop believing that without Thrawn's protection, the others would suddenly decide she wasn't worth the efforts he had organized for her. But when nothing like this happened, when there was still bitter soup for her in the galley, and pilot training and math and history lessons, Hera's nerves had relaxed, and she slept easier in her bunk again.

But then those strange feelings began to surface. Hera found herself stopping outside the door to Thrawn's office, watching it longingly, imagining herself opening it and finding him inside. She pulled out the bits of cardboard and paper she used to practice chess, but instead of setting up a game, she just looked at each scrawled piece, thinking of how the pieces of Thrawn's polished wood set felt in her hands. She didn't know what to call this, didn't know what to think of the sick feeling growing in her stomach, until T'lul passed by as she was standing outside Thrawn's door again, and said, offhand, "Oh, you miss him."

Apparently these feelings weren't so strange after all. Or they weren't supposed to be. But Hera couldn't remember 'missing' anyone before. It did give her some comfort to put a name to these feelings, to know they were common, but at the same time it also made the twist in her stomach worse, as it was another reason altogether to want him back here, something else she'd want to tell him, so that he could explain it to her. He hadn't told her where he was going, only that it likely wouldn't be safe for him to communicate until he returned. In the last few days, a new fear had slipped in, that he wouldn't return, that he could be captured or his shuttle destroyed. Inside her, the thought felt like a rope being cut, and then falling.

And then, finally, Ishno shakes her awake in her bunk, whispering that he has returned. Her feelings must have been obvious to everyone, but Hera doesn't think about that. She lets herself rush through cleaning and dressing, but makes herself walk once she leaves her bunk, and makes her way up to Thrawn's office.

Comments

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn nudges her cup of tea toward her, to give each of them a moment to gather themselves.

"Your father was Cham Syndulla, a freedom fighter for Ryloth. He led one of the movements to locally overthrow the Terran Empire. Your mother, Tislera, was also a leader in this movement. It's the main reason that the Terran Empire took possession of you. To demoralize them, and their movement, and to demontrate their authority on your person."

A pause.

"I am sorry for that."

[for_everyone]

Hera dutifully picks up the cup, and brings it to her lips. But she can barely get any of it down her throat. She moves very stiffly, to be sure she won't shake.

She lowers the cup down from her mouth, though keeps it clutched between her hands, and makes herself speak, her voice very low.

"They're dead then?"

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Disappeared," Thrawn says quietly. "Which unfortunately means yes."

He is sorry.

"I collected a few stories for you, if you should like to hear them. You can load them on your datapad, for privacy."

He takes a sip of tea, giving them both another moment.

"It seemed important to try to deliver something more substantial, however. Hence why I was away for so long."

[for_everyone]

Hera stays quiet at first, this time because she's not sure how to say what she's thinking.

At last, she asks, "What else is there?"

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Something you can hold in your hand. A remnant, an . . . inheritance, if you will. Possibly a legacy."

He moves to the shelf behind his desk, unlocking the glass front and lifting down an elaborate -- and aged -- wooden sculpture, delicately carved and brightly painted.

"One you can learn to read, if you choose. This, as far as I could ascertain, is the Syndulla kalikori."

Thrawn sets it on the desk in front of Hera, careful to keep it away from crumbs and tea.

[for_everyone]

Hera's eyes flicker between him and the object. Her hands stay tightly folded in her lap.

"Kalikori," she repeats, quietly. And then, from rote memorization of her lessons -

"Twi'lek heirloom passed down through family generations."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Clinically, yes," Thrawn allows. And, after a long moment of silence, to let her get her bearings --

"Tell me, Hera. How are you feeling right now?"

[for_everyone]

Her first instinct, still, is to lie. Keeping emotion neatly tucked away was still hard-ingrained in her, even if she knew now that a slip up would no longer come with retaliation.

But Thrawn is asking something of her. And while some on his crew might think there was never any point in lying to him, that he could read their minds as easily as a Betazoid would, Hera knew that wasn't true.

There's a shorter stretch of silence, and then she answers. "Like I can't breathe."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"All right," Thrawn says, in simple acknowledgment.

"Will sitting in silence for a time help? Or perhaps chess."

There are many options.

"Unless you would prefer to see this through to the end, and have the whole of it to digest on your own time."

[for_everyone]

Hera looks away from the kalikori, back to him. Her eyes don't flicker now.

"I want to keep going."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"All right."

He takes another sip of tea, to center himself.

Then --

"It was a challenge to find it. The Terrans swept your family compound at the time and much of it was scattered. But I have a few good informants, and they were able to give me likely locations for a few pieces. This seemed . . . potentially the most signficant, in terms of family history. I thought you might want it."

[for_everyone]

There's another long silence. She can't help it, she pulls the words apart and pieces them back together in her mind, as every assortment of them quietly terrifies her.

"You found it for me?"

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"I did," he says, very simply.

"It is a hard thing, to be without your own history. What is stolen should, if at all possible, be returned."

And he thought it was a nice gesture. Something to show her that she's welcome here, and well-regarded.

[for_everyone]

"... I can touch it?"

He had already said she could, really. But she has to hear him say it again.

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Of course," Thrawn says, but with no ounce of surprise in his voice.

(That would be cruel.)

"It is for you to keep, as you like. It's yours."

[for_everyone]

Hera's eyes return to the kalikori.

It's still nearly a minute before she reaches for it. She forces herself not to glance back to Thrawn, to keep asking for permission, even if silently. He said it was hers. Even if she hadn't before, she knows what that means now, to have her own possessions, her own space. She shouldn't need to ask again.

Very gently, Hera wraps her hands around the base of the kalikori, and lifts it from the desk. She eases its weight against her chest, so that she can move her right hand, tracing the clay pieces with her fingers, along the edges, gently lifting the one of its two hanging pieces. She brushes her thumb against an engraving on the base piece, pressing the lines into her skin, staring down and willing herself to understand these symbols that had been stolen from her.

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"There's certainly research that can be done, as well, on the history of kalikori. I'm not as aware of their meaning as I should like to be."

And, of course, this is Hera's history, and perhaps she would prefer to research it herself. There's something to be said for privacy, where so much is ruled by a tyrannical Empire.

[for_everyone]

Hera doesn't look up from the kalikori, at least for the moment.

But she does ask, softly, "You can - help me?"

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"To research?"

He asks this solely for clarity. And, perhaps, a sense of uncertainty on how best to proceed.

"I can certainly do my best."

[for_everyone]

"Yes."

She looks up to meet his eyes again. "Please."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

"Of course."

Thrawn's reply comes swift and certain.

"I have a few sources that we might begin with, should you like."

[for_everyone]

She nods, the movement only a little shaky.

And then, as she remembers, "Thank you."

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn smiles, just the tiniest bit.

"You're welcome. But I am only providing you with what you deserve."

Not to belabor the point too much.




And then he pauses, watching Hera for a long, silent moment.

"Speaking of deserve, of course -- should you like to go home?"

[for_everyone]

Hera starts. For someone else, it might not be enough movement to notice - her head comes up, her eyes widen, yet otherwise she stays still. But it should be more than enough for Thrawn.

Still, she's quiet for several seconds, before -

"I don't -"

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn cannot fail to notice her movement, nor can he fail to notice the slight increase to her skin temperature.

And so --

"You needn't give your answer now. Just . . . think about it. If you would like. I do not want you to believe you have no choices, Hera. That could not be farther from the truth."