Chapter Text
Intense, sickening pain throbs over Lorana Jinzler's eye socket, ripping her consciousness from her failed healing trance. She cannot move, her limbs echoing with agony as Lorana's unfamiliar surroundings come into focus.
The Jedi Knight's mind feels distant, heavy with blurry faces and distorted voices as the piercing hum of the fluorescent lights make her abdomen churn with nausea. Lorana is too weak to stretch more than an arm's length with the force, only briefly brushing against the foreign, undecipherable minds before the pain becomes too much.
Forcing herself upright, Lorana catches a glimpse of her reflection, momentarily lost in the unfamiliar eyes before her. Fractured memories taste of ash as the Jedi's mind returns to the lightless hallways and creeping, wicked dread she has only encountered in dreams.
She remembers fire, the burning sting of death as Outbound flight tore itself apart, the empty ache of betrayal as her master slipped into a place she could not follow. Yet only darkness remains in the space of aftermath, leaving Lorana uncertain where Outbound Flight ends, and she begins.
"How do you feel?" A familiar voice asks in Sy Bisit, pulling Lorana out of her thoughts.
It hurts to crane her neck, but Lorana does it anyways, meeting the tired yet kind eyes of Syndic Mitth'ras'safis. For a moment, neither of them speaks as they observe each other, possibly for the first time.
"Are the colonists safe?" Lorana's voice is raspy as her hand unconsciously brushes against the hilt of her saber. The memories remain foggy, but the details are slowly sharpening.
Hesitation colors Thrass's features as his fingers brush against the railing of the Jedi's hospital bed.
"We were the only survivors."
The words scarcely pass Thrass's lips as a tremor racks Lorana's bruised body. C'baoth had been right; Lorana was destined to amount to nothing but failure. A Jedi's duty was to do everything to protect those in need, even if it resulted in the sacrifice of herself. The lives of others would always be worth more than her own.
Lorana nods silently, banishing Chas Unilar's questioning voice from her mind. "What happened?"
Thrass clasps his hands behind his back as he meets the Jedi's eyes. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Despite the question's simplicity, Lorana hesitates before letting herself wade into her memories' private depths. She remembers C'baoth's anger, flickering beneath her own skin like smoldering coals in the rain. She remembers agony coursing through every nerve in her body as her people, her family, died before her. She remembers numbness as the hum of her saber cuts through the air, prepared to face any being that stood before her.
But there was more than muted fear and exhaustion. Thrass had been beside her, willing to share in on her uncertainty and ultimately do what it took to get the colonists to safety, no matter the cost.
Yet, they had failed, and their loss was a burden they would be forced to share.
"Falling," Lorana says, her voice distant as her body aches, as if re-living the ship's aimless descent.
Thrass nods grimly, an honest sadness tracing his being as the force hums softly between them. Lorana is not sure she wants to know how things end.
"You should rest," Thrass answers instead, a softness residing in his eyes as he meets Lorana's gaze.
Perhaps if anybody else told her to settle down, she would have stood her ground and forced her opponent to truly see her. Yet, with Thrass, the near-stranger before her, it didn't feel necessary to prove her worth. Somehow it seems he already knows.
Lorana is no stranger to the process of recovery. Sometimes it feels like all her two decades' worth of training had taught her was learning how to continue onwards even when nothing was going according to plan.
A concussion, two broken ribs, and multiple shrapnel wounds were no small feat for any warrior, let alone the mental exhaustion that accompanied a losing battle.
Lorana takes it day by day, gradually relearning what it means to be a Jedi, even when she is the only one left. She does not argue nor put up a fight when her nurses run tests or examine her bruised skin.
Thrass visits her bed every day. Often, he comes bearing tokens of comfort, another blanket or sweater for Lorana amid the harsh hospital climate. Other times, his presence is more than enough to distract the Jedi Knight from the bitter reality of being the sole survivor.
Today, the syndic comes bearing a board game, Tactica.
"You seem like a fast learner," Thrass smiles as he arranges the game on her bedside table. "It took me almost five years before I could even come close to winning against my brother."
Lorana huffs softly as Thrass explains the rules. She can not help but wonder how things would be different if she and Dean had a normal childhood and if they could have been siblings.
"I don't suppose you can tell me what is going to happen to me once I've recovered?" Lorana asks softly as she moves her firewolf across the board.
"Not yet," the syndic says as his head turns, checking to ensure the room's entrance is void of all unwanted presences. "It will always be your choice."
Lorana's brow furrow as she pushes herself upright. "What do you mean?"
"Even if the Syndicure demands the continuation of your presence among the Ascendancy, by no means am I going to let you rot here against your will."
Lorana isn't confident she can believe him, especially on a promise carrying so much weight. Sometimes it seems that all she's ever known is disappointment.
"Why do I get the feeling this isn't your first time being stranded from your home?" Thrass's tone is light, but his features reflect concern.
The Jedi Knight shrugs as she corners the syndic's night dragon.
"My mentor, Master C'baoth always believed the best course of action for teaching was to watch and mimic his movements rather than learn what technique suits me best."
"So now you find yourself alone with nothing but the knowledge of how your teacher could possibly act in this situation?"
Lorana nods, her throat feeling uncomfortably tight. It feels wrong to criticize the dead, but what had C'baoth instructed her on? How to become everything he was not? She can't help but wince as memories of her master's cold eyes and righteous smile adhere to the backs of her eyelids.
"Sometimes it feels inevitable that I'll end up just like him," the words feel small, almost stupid, as Lorana lets her gaze fall from Thrass's face.
The syndic is silent for a moment before his fingers gently meet the back of her palm. It is a strange comfort; one Lorana has never felt before.
"Guarantee I have only known you for a short while," Thrass pauses, waiting for her eyes to return to his. "But I don't think your master would have been willing to make the sacrifice you were, let alone even consider the lives of the colonists."
Lorana nods, a fresh heat radiating from her cheeks; she can't tell if it's shame or something else entirely. The Jedi can count on one hand the number of times her dedication and bravery to the order have been recognized.
If C'baoth were here, he would most likely recite some outdated line of the Jedi Code; she can hear his booming voice forcing her to repeat the same line – there is no emotion, there is peace – until it loses all meaning.
Thrass's touch remains on her palm for a heartbeat longer, and all Lorana can do is repeat the only phrase she has ever known. There is no emotion, there is peace.
And somehow, it doesn't ring true.
It is Lorana's last day in the medical wing when Thrass visits again, only this time he is not alone. She doesn't need to see the faces of the two men accompanying him before her fingers twitch against the hilt of her saber.
Forcing herself upright, Lorana ignores the sharp stab in her side as she attempts to make herself appear as menacing as possible.
The syndic flashes her an apologetic expression before a human and another Chiss – Mitth'raw'nuruodo – linger behind him.
Lorana's blood runs cold as her eyes trace the senior captain's face, desperate for an answer she doesn't want to know.
"Apologies for the intrusion," Thrass says as he motions to the men behind him. "This is Jorj Car'das, and Mitth'raw'nuruodo, my brother.
"Your brother?" Lorana can't help but repeat the words, their meaning so simple yet so unattainable. She feels almost stupid for not catching the subtle resemblance in their features and demeanor.
It is an odd sensation to be before the same man who seemingly took everything from her. Somehow, she is not sure what to say.
Silence had always been a tool for Lorana, blossoming in the looming void of C'baoth's shadow. Letting her gaze wash over Thrawn, Lorana catalogs the discolored string of purple, blood-filled bruises that color the senior captain's neck. Reaching out with the force, Lorana looks past the wound, latching onto the painfully familiar aura of her former master.
Every individual left behind a shadow, a signature etched on each and every being they've interacted with, no matter how brief. C'baoth's essence is all-encompassing, filling Lorana's lungs with righteous fire as she probs the senior captain.
"He did this to you?" The Jedi's mind feels disconnected, light years away, as the sickening notion settles beneath her skin. Not only had her master fallen, but he had also attempted to kill in perhaps the most gruesome way.
"Yes," Thrawn's hand automatically shifts toward his throat as he speaks.
Lorana gnaws at her cheek as her attention turns to Thrass, the anger slowly seeping from her veins. No reason for the destruction of Outbound Flight would ever be good enough, but the evidence of outside, uncontrollable factors make Lorana's chest ache. Could it have truly been all C'baoth's fault? Would things have gone differently if her master had merely listened to Thrawn's simple requests?
She suppresses a shudder as her gaze wanders toward the lone human. Lorana isn't certain how long it's been since she wasn't the outlier amongst the stoic faces and glaring eyes of the Chiss. It's hard not to feel a sliver of relief, especially considering the man's prior willingness to relay her message to Dean.
"How did you get here?" She motions towards Car'das with a nod of her head. "I was under the impression the Ascendancy didn't like humans." The Sy Bisti flows naturally from Lorana's lips as she studies the man.
Thrawn's lip's part, but Thrass raises a hand. "They don't approve of outsiders," the older Mitth hesitates as his eyes dance from Car'das to Lorana. "Luckily, my brother and I are less traditional."
The syndic's words are small comfort, but Lorana has suffered at C'baoth's side for too long to miss the blatant avoidance of her question.
"I'm assuming the syndicure has decided my fate?" She asks, her gaze unwavering.
Thrass's head inclines downward in a single, swift movement.
"Jorj will be your pilot back to Coruscant." Thrawn's voice is deeper than Thrass's, his demeanor steadfast.
For a heartbeat, Lorana does not speak, her mind lightyears away. She can see Mace Windu's disappointment, the order's perpetual confusion about what to do with her. Lorana has been friendless, isolated, and alone in the temple for twenty-two years. Never the first choice, always the last.
Somehow Lorana already knows things will be worse if she returns. There will be no place for her, not when she has already grown beyond its stagnant teachings.
She will be exiled from her past and future, cast to a life of her own devices.
"If I return to the Order, they will demand an explanation," Lorana's lips move numbly as if she isn't speaking at all. "They will need an answer."
The senior captain takes a step closer, his gaze almost apologetic. "Only under the condition that you relinquish all ties to your people."
It is difficult to not feel small beneath the gazes of the three men, let alone the weight in Thrawn's words.
"If it was asked of you, could you do it?" Lorana isn't confident why she poses the question instead of putting up a fight. Perhaps it's the will of the force; more likely, it is the ghost of C'baoth speaking through her.
Thrawn's features soften, and for a moment, Lorana is speaking with a man who isn't entirely different than herself.
"If it is what my people needed from me," his voice is so low, Lorana can scarcely make out his words. "Then I would do anything."
She doesn't need the force to grasp the truth in Thrawn's words.
"How can you be certain I won't return to my order?" Any challenge left in her voice has since been abandoned, replaced by exhaustion.
"If your people return here, then war is inevitable," Thrawn's tone does not falter.
Lorana remains silent, uncertain of how to argue in the face of validity. She knows better than most the toll a conflict against the Ascendancy would cause. It would be a useless fight that won justice for neither the victims of Outbound Flight nor the Jedi who sought to avenge them.
She cannot win this argument, yet Lorana does not feel anger or grief at the thought of starting over; in fact, she cannot remember the last time she felt this light.
"Alright," She says, her voice soft but not meek. "I accept your terms."
"Then it is settled," the senior captain's head inclines downward. "You and Jorj will depart in three rotations."
Silently she watches as Thrawn meets Thrass's concerned gaze before exiting the cramped room, Jorj trailing behind him.
"Is he always this serious?" Lorana can't help but ask, desperate to lighten the tension.
Thrass smiles. "Not always, he is just under mounting pressure from the fleet. My brother is observant and thoughtful. I can only hope you'll meet him again under different circumstances one day."
"For both our sakes, I hope I never encounter him on the battlefield again."
The syndic huffs as he approaches her cot. "I suppose I should let you start making your final preparations," he says softly, a muted sadness blossoming within the force.
Lorana hesitates, not entirely wanting to be alone with her thoughts. "Stay."
Thrass's pupilless eyes brighten as he returns to his unofficial spot next to her bed.
"Have you ever been on your own before?" She asks, her voice painfully hesitant.
To her surprise, the syndic nods.
"Our parents died when I was seven, Thrawn was four. There was no one else to care for us, the responsibility fell to me."
Lorana isn't sure what to say, so she nods, beckoning for Thrass to continue.
"Raising Thrawn was perhaps the most difficult undertaking I have ever faced." The syndic gives her a significant look. "Yet if my sacrifice means Thrawn's continuation, I will always do it."
"He is lucky to have you."
Thrass huffs softly. "Sometimes I wish he knew that."
Lorana bites the inside of her cheek, memories of Dean swimming behind her eyelids. Why couldn't he grasp that she never got a say in her departure nor allotted life path? Why did he see her as an enemy, a rival rather than a sister? Would he ever know how much she cared?
A bitter taste formed in the former Jedi Knight's mouth. "I have a younger brother too. I think I'm who he hates most in this world." Lorana's intended humor dies on her lips, leaving her words fragile and dry.
Thrass's eyes narrow in thought. "Did something happen?"
Lorana isn't sure if she wants to laugh or cry. "I wish I knew. I never met in before stepping foot on Outbound Flight."
"You didn't know your own brother?"
"Jedi are taken from their families at young ages, it aids in discarding the need for attachments."
The syndic sits up straighter. "Are attachments really a bad thing?"
Lorana's lip’s part, C'baoth's words itching to manifest into reality.
Yet somehow, Thrass's question manages to pierce her skin. Were they truly such a bad thing?
"I was taught that devotion can be blinding, causing Jedi to fall down dangerous paths." Lorana thinks of her master and his failure.
"Does it always have to lead to the worst possible outcome?"
Any Jedi would respond without hesitation, Lorana thinks. But she is no longer a Jedi, not anymore.
"I don't know," she says quietly. "It's all I've ever known."
"It is hard to undo teachings of the past," Thrass responds softly. "You don't have to be alone anymore."
If she were in any other situation, Lorana would have considered that she was about to be completely alone. Yet the thought remained distant, like listening to music from underwater. She would have to face her future eventually, but for now, she had Thrass, and that was enough.