Hera Syndulla (
for_everyone) wrote2020-09-24 07:53 am
Mirrorverse AU
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.

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And then, as she remembers, "Thank you."
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"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?"
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Still, she's quiet for several seconds, before -
"I don't -"
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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."
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She swallows, giving herself another moment to choose her words.
"What - home?"
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He pauses for a moment, reassessing his approach to this conversation.
"The home of your people, at least. Where your parents grew up."
A beat of silence, as if to let that sink in.
"Ryloth."
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She doesn't say anything, but stares down at the clay pieces, at the symbols she doesn't recognize, imagining the names she can't read.
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Surely that's clear enough, and yet --
"Your life is yours."
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She presses her lips together, still looking down. "- what are my choices?"
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He could wish it were that easy, because every specific option offered might feel like the drawing of a boundary.
Still --
"Are there things you would prefer to do?"
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And she answers, softly, "I - know people here."
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"There is a great deal to be said for that, I agree. I will say that I like having you here, as well. So does much of the rest of the crew."
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"If I go," she murmurs, "I can't come back."
It's not a question, just a practical reality.
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He chooses only to be honest, at least here and now.
"But this does not mean it would not be worth it to go, should you wish to. Unless there is something else you prefer to seek, in the shape of your future."
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"I don't know what my future would be, on Ryloth."
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"I only think that you should have the chance to find out, if you want it. But I do not demand it, not from you."
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He imagines there are multiple ways Hera might choose to develop her skills.
"Or you might, as you grow older, become one of my intelligence operatives."
Perhaps he should not prefer the latter for her, and yet . . .
Still, he strives to give no sign of it by any outward appearance.
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"I don't want to be hiding and, waiting for them to come again."
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Then --
"Very understandable. Is that what you think you'll do, here?"
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"Here - I know I won't."
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"I admit that I am very pleased to hear that. I think it may still be too early to place you into any particular track of training, but if you have ideas, I would certainly like to hear them."
A pause.
"And, of course, we can continue to look into the kalikori language and Twi'lek history -- and your family's history -- while doing so."
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As it fades, her hands fold, and it's a few seconds before she speaks, as she decides whether her question is one she wants to ask aloud.
At last, she can't help but feel it's really now or never.
"You'd like me to stay?"
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Even as he speaks, Thrawn recognizes that he hasn't quite answered her question, not in a way that is a kindness to a child, anyway.
"Which is to say, yes."
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She may smile, quickly, again.
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