#thalakro

“Admiral,” Samakro cuts in before he can second guess himself, and three pairs of glowing red eyes turn in his direction. 

There’s a beat of confusion, as if they had forgotten that he was even here, before Ar’alani asks, “Yes, Mid Captain?” 

“I understand that this is a sensitive topic for debrief, but Caregiver Thalias and Sky-walker Che’ri are civilians,” he says. “They were put into an active combat situation with a known hostile and sustained injuries at his hand.” 

Ar’alani’s expression is thoughtful as she glances across the table. “Do you wish to visit the medical center, Caregiver?” though that’s not what Samakro was implying. 

“No, I—” Thalias starts, then falters. “I…” 

“I think Mid Captain Samakro is suggesting that the caregiver and sky-walker be released from duty,” Thrawn says softly. “Between travel to Primea and then their capture by General Yiv, they have had little time to rest and recover.” 

“I’m fine, honestly,” Thalias protests weakly, but the bruise looks sickly in the bright lights of the conference room. “What we went through…” She trails off and her eyes travel to the screen displaying the bridge of the Deathless, the video looping back to the beginning as they spoke. Her breath catches in her throat as she watches herself get hit again, and in her lap Che’ri whimpers. 

“Mid Captain Samakro is right,” Ar’alani says. “You’ve made your report, Caregiver. It would be best if you take sky-walker Che’ri back to your suite and get some rest.” 

Thalias looks like she wants to argue, so Samakro pushes himself to his feet and startles her back into silence. 

“I will escort the two of you back to your suite. I should check on the status of the Springhawk’s repairs, anyway.” The last thing he needs is for Thalias to try and wriggle her way into staying in this conversation to try and gain information about Thrawn’s questionable actions. There’s the details that will be given to the Syndicure at the inevitable hearing, of course, but Ar’alani and Thrawn have been working in tandem for longer than Samakro’s been involved. 

And this way he can ensure that Thalias is far from the room when any conversations take place between the two of them. 

Desperate, Thalias looks to Thrawn, but he merely nods and gestures towards the door. “We will let you know if there is anything we need from you, caregiver. Thank you, again; the assistance provided by you and sky-walker Che’ri was invaluable.” 

Thalias snaps her mouth shut so quickly that her teeth clack and her face scrunches up like she’s trying not to say something — or start crying. “Thank you, sir,” she grits out. There’s an awkward moment where she shifts Che’ri’s weight in her arms, and then she rises to her feet as well. “We’ll wait for your orders.” 

The door whooshes open before her as she leaves the room, professional enough to not look like she’s pouting at least. 

Samakro is about to turn and follow when he catches Ar’alani’s eye. 

She gives him the smallest nod of her head in thanks before turning her attention to Thrawn. 

Thalias is already several steps down the hall when the door closes behind him. There’s a moment where he debates just letting her walk away, but he said he would escort them back and it’s his job as Mid Captain to ensure that the sky-walker is taken care of. 

“Caregiver, wait,” he calls after her. 

She jerks to a sudden but awkward halt, her grip tightening on the girl in her arms. “Mid Captain?” she answers without looking at him. 

It’s not until he’s standing beside her that he can see all the minute tremors running through her frame. Her eyes are flat and lifeless when she finally lifts them to look at him, and from this close he can see the mottled bruising on her cheek as it starts to swell. Not quite a black eye, but just as bad.

He makes a note to have a junior warrior bring her some medpatches later as he says, “I’ll carry her for you.” 

There’s a spark of something close to amusement in Thalias’ eyes, warmth returning for only the briefest flash before fading again. “Thank you, but I can manage.” 

“You can barely hold yourself up. Just—” Something catches the words in the back of his throat, stoppers them so that he’s unable to form the sentence he wants. He coughs to dislodge the invisible thing and tries again. “Just let me help you.” 

Thalias’ expression is unreadable, but after a moment she nods and shifts Che’ri to transfer the girl to his arms. 

Samakro hasn’t held a child since… well, years ago by now really, and the last time it definitely wasn’t someone close to a mid-ager. But Che’ri is awake enough to wrap her arms around his neck and he can feel some of the tension leaving her small frame. 

Only Thalias doesn’t seem to relax any. Her shoulders are rigid and now, without the child to hide behind, he can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggles to maintain her calm. He wonders just how much of insisting she carry Che’ri was her own benefit. 

But she doesn’t demand for the girl back — only waits to see that he’s able to hold her before she resumes her trek down the hall towards their suite. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and her back is ramrod straight. 

Her hair, which is normally always pulled back in a low ponytail or a braid, hangs loose down her back. It must be because of the way that Yiv had grabbed a handful of it and pulled. 

He feels like he should say something, but he doesn’t know exactly what. He’s well aware of her position on the ship as a spy, even if she doesn’t know that he knows. But she’s just been through an experience that he’d be hard pressed to put even seasoned warriors through. 

“You know,” Thalias begins suddenly, “you’re being remarkably calm about this.” 

A not quite laugh sputters out of Samakro at the irony of the statement. “I’m a senior bridge officer, of course I’m calm.” 

She shoots him an incredulous look that he can’t quite interpret before turning back to the path before her. After another few silent paces, she adds, “I just guess I expected you to have more of an opinion about mine and Che’ri’s involvement in this.” 

Oh, he’s got plenty of opinions alright, but now is neither the time nor the place for them. Grudgingly, he says, “Thrawn has received my full thoughts on the matter.” 

Again, that look. Had he ever given her a reason to suspect that he would be onto her scheme? He’s not treated her any differently from any other caregiver — except that she’s not like any other caregiver. She likes to nose her way into business that isn’t hers, she talks back without fear, and she’s somehow managed to worm her way into Thrawn’s favor. 

Samakro only wants to keep an eye on her to ensure that he’ll catch her betrayal before it springs. 

They reach the sky-walker suite and there is an awkward moment where they both realize that Che’ri has fully fallen asleep in Samakro’s arms. Thalias doesn’t give him the chance to offer to bring the girl all the way to her room, which is just as well because he can’t quite figure out if he wanted to intrude on their space any further. 

She grunts softly as the weight is returned to her arms, but at least she has a more secure hold this time. Her expression loses the tight lines of anxiety as she smoothes back Che’ri’s hair. “Thank you, Mid Captain,” she says softly though she doesn’t look up at him as she says it. 

“Of course,” he says awkwardly, not too sure if he should add any time to be polite. 

He hooks a finger beneath her chin and tilts her face up so he can meet her eyes. “You’re very distracting,” he comments.

“You say that with fondness now,” she teases. 

Mak’ro’s answering grin is crooked on his lips and he places a kiss on her forehead. “It’s been nearly twenty years. I’d have hoped you have forgiven me for that by now.” 

Her expression softens and she presses the palm of her hand against his cheek. “I can officially say I have now, Commodore Mak’ro.” 

His grin softens to match, and he turns his head to press a kiss to her palm. They linger like that for a moment, then two, before separating. “You want anything to drink?” he asks as he wanders over to the minibar. 

“I’ll have whatever you’re making,” Thalias says, moving to sit on the couch. Her questis is already on the cushions after she abandoned it there earlier in the day. She settles in against the arm of the couch and gives a languid stretch of her back. 

Mak’ro joins her a moment later, handing her both glasses so he can clamber onto the couch as well. 

“How are you supposed to drink yours?” she asks, amused, as he kicks his legs out and settles his head into her lap. 

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admits, taking his drink back and settling his hands over his chest. “This seemed more important.” 

Thalias smiles and runs her hand back through his hair. It sticks up at odd angles and refuses to settle. “I’ll catch it if you start to fall asleep with it.” 

“Lifesaver.” Mak’ro already has his eyes closed, a small and self-satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. He’s never this relaxed unless its in the privacy of either of their quarters, and these days they see each other so rarely that she hates to imagine how much pent up stress he’s been harboring. 

She glances at her questis for a moment in consideration. “Darling?” 

He opens one eye, suspicious. “Yes?” 

“Was Ar’alani at your promotion ceremony? I heard the Steadfast is in for repairs.” She hesitates a beat as he stares at her, waiting for the shoe to drop. “After their whole adventure in Lesser Space.” 

“She was there,” he says slowly. “She didn’t stay long but she did want to offer her congratulations.” Mak’ro sets his glass down on the nearby table and props himself up on one elbow so he can get a better look at her. “Why?” 

Thalias plays with her questis hoping her shrug comes off as dismissive. “I read the publically available version of her and her officers’ reports of the event. I was just hoping I could get a copy without all the redactions.” 

His face does something complicated before settling into an expression she remembers from her time aboard the Springhawk at Sache’s side. “You are not asking me to send you a combat report that is strictly limited to flag rank officers the day I am promoted to Commodore.” 

“You don’t have to send it to me,” she says innocently, though they’re both at an age where that doesn’t quite work. “I can read it on your questis—” 

He looks so tired as he runs a hand over his face and she wonders just when the gray at his temples started to look so pronounced. “You know what I mean, Thalias,” he says on a sigh but doesn’t push her hand away when she reaches up to brush the hair just above his ears. It’s the tone of voice that highlights the old animosity of Ufsa versus Mitth, even if it has been nearly twenty years for them. Even if he cut ties with his Family. It’s an old habit to fall back onto. “Ask anything else of me, but not that.” 

She hates that this was exactly what she was setting him up for. Ask for the impossible first and then the slightly more outlandish but completely possible. So she braces herself and says in a rush, “I want to meet him.” 

This catches Mak’ro completely off guard and the exhaustion immediately fades into confusion. “Meet who?” 

“Eli’van’to. The human.” She almost says Thrawn’s human but stops herself. “Was he there too?” 

“No. What? Hold on—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, then rolls back over so he can get his drink and take a fortifying gulp of it. “Okay, back up. Why do you want to meet Commander Ivant?” 

Thalias props her chin in her hand, leaning against the arm of the couch. “You know why.” 

He frowns. “Alright that was a stupid question. I don’t know how much he knows about…” Mak’ro gestures at her. “All of it.” 

“That’s why I want to read the report.” She holds up a hand when he gets that look on his face again. “I know, I know. I’ll have to go through official channels to requisition the data from proper channels…” Thalias doesn’t know what her expression does next because Mak’ro reaches up for her, letting his fingers tangle in her hair and his hand anchor at the back of her neck. Keeping her there in that moment. “They found a sky-walker, didn’t they?” 

His silence is answer enough. 

“She’ll need to undergo evaluation and proper training and—” 

“I can’t help with that,” he says, cutting her off. “Officially, I can’t tell you anything. I won’t confirm or deny any guesses you make, but my hands are tied.” 

Thalias sighs and presses her thumb to his lips, smearing a bead of liquid against them. “Alright.” Then, after another sigh, she repeats, “Alright.” 

“Are you?” 

“Am I what?” 

“Alright?” 

She laughs despite herself, nudging him upright so she can curl up against him. His arm drapes around her shoulders, warm and comfortable, and she presses her hand to the exposed skin of his chest where his robe is open. “Are any of us?”