Chapter Text
From the Ancient Chiss Tenets of Union:
One must attract a mate.
One must offer protection, stability, and advantage-- biological or societal.
Deviation invites correction.
Correction ensures survival.
Partnership must endure, no matter the cost.
These are the first teachings a Chiss child learns and the last a Chiss lover forgets.
Eli hadn't grown up with scripture etched into his bones, but he's heard Thrawn quote these Tenets often enough that they lingered now cold ornate things carved from a culture that prized discipline over comfort.
And they definitely were not helping.
"Our biology is against us," Thrawn said, as calmly as if he were noting a supply discrepancy instead of detonating Eli's nerves.
Eli stared at him," That isn't funny."
"It was not intended to as humor."
Of course it wasn't.
Eli dragged his hands down his face, pacing in tight circles across their quarters. His heartbeat had started a slow climb into panic. Thrawn watched him with patient attentiveness of someone observing a small electrical fire and deciding whether to intervene. To Thrawn, Eli's spirals were data points. To Eli, they were how he stayed upright.
"There are alternatives," Thrawn offered.
Eli pointed at him instantly. " No. Whatever it is you're about to say, the answer is no. That's your 'logical solution that emotionally crushes me', tone."
"You desire a child."
"Yes," Eli admitted, softer than he meant to. "But not through whatever tactical nightmare you're about to propose."
Thrawn stepped closer. His posture remained precise, but something in his expression shifted--gentle, almost hesitant. A kind of vulnerability Thrawn barely knew how to show.
"We are both of a species whose males cannot procreate without a female. That is fact. But with surrogacy,"
"That's not surrogacy," Eli said, horrified. "That's just-no."
"Application is irrelevant. The results are the same."
Eli blinked at him, caught somewhere between disbelief, and heartbreak.
"You can't suggest we hire someone to carry a baby like it's an equipment order. That isn't a solution-- it's something a therapist writes case studies about. "
"Among the Chiss," Thrawn said gently," such arrangements are honorable. Efficient."
"Among the Chiss," Eli echoed, pacing again," but we are not among the Chiss. And nowhere in the galaxy is 'please incubate our child, goodbye' considered normal."
Thrawn's brow furrowed, his faint signal of confusion, almost an appeal.
"It is a direct path," he said. "I cannot give you a child myself. This would allow you one. Blood of you. Blood of me. A future."
Something in Eli's chest tightened. Sincerity wrapped in calculation. That has always been the part that undid him.
"That's oddly sweet," Eli admitted. " Also, emotionally catastrophic, but still no. No surrogates. No strangers. Adoption. Let's try adoption again."
Thrawn studied him for a long, private moment, the kind of silence he used when reorganizing entire battle strategies behind his eyes.
"Very well," he said.
Relief washed over Eli like a breath he hadn't realized that he was holding.
He didn't see the quiet, crystallizing resolve in Thrawn's eyes, the kind that meant a decision had already begun forming.
Later, Eli would look back and realize this was the moment everything shifted.
He just hadn't recognized the shape of Thrawn's silence yet.
Eli didn't get long to enjoy the relief before fate found another way to rattle him.
The next day, the Imperial base greeted them with its usual ambiance: sterile metal, unflattering lights, and stormtroopers navigating hallways as if peripheral version were optional.
He was mid grumble about adoption forms when a sound cut sharply through the air.
A thin, distressed cry.
Organic.
Young.
Eli frowned," Do you hear that?"
Thrawn already turned towards the noise.
Across the walkway, a stormtrooper stood briskly with a bundled infant in his arms, small fragile, and loudly unhappy. The cry echoed sharply against the durasteel.
Eli's stomach twisted.
"Why is there a baby here? Who brings a baby to an Imperial base? Stars above, who lets a stormtrooper hold one? They can't be trusted with cups, let alone a baby."
The trooper shifted his grip. The baby cried harder.
Thrawn's eyes narrowed.
"Stormtrooper," He called.
The trooper halted. "Sir."
"What is the purpose of this child?" Thrawn asked.
"Found it on a supply run," the trooper said with a shrug that made Eli bristle. " Orders say to take it to Command for processing."
Porcessing.
Eli recoiled. "Processing? He's an infant, not a crate of rations."
The trooper shifted the child in his arms again; the baby's head tapped against his plastoid armor.
Eli winced, "Careful-please,"
The infant wailed louder.
Thrawn stepped forward, voice low, steady, and edged with something colder than anger.
"Your mishandling of an infant is unacceptable. You are endangering him."
The trooper swallowed. " Sir, we're supposed to,"
"I will take custody." Thrawn said.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
The trooper hesitated only long enough for survival instinct to override protocol, then handed the baby to him.
Thrawn accepted the child with startling gentleness. His hands moved instinctively, supporting the head, adjusting the blanket, steadying the trembling body. Too smooth to be improvisation.
The infant hiccupped, then quieted, soothed by competence he hadn't expected.
Eli approched, his heart aching in ways he didn't want to examine.
"Thrawn, how do you know how to do that?"
"I observed," Thrawn said simply.
"Observed what? Parenting manuals?"
But Thrawn was already moving.
"Command no longer requires the child."
"Did they say that?" Eli whispered, hurrying after him.
"They will."
Eli opened his mouth, closed it, tried again. "Thrawn, you can't just walk off with a baby."
"I did not walk off with him. I removed him from an incompetent handler. You yourself expressed that adoption would be preferable."
"This isn't the same thing," Eli said softly. "This feels very different from adoption."
"The results are the same," Thrawn replied gently. " The method is irrelevant."
Eli could only stare at him overwhelmed, conflicted, undone by how careful Thrawn's hands were around something so tiny.
'Thrawn he's so small."
"Yes," Thrawn agreed, almost contemplatively, "Remarkably inefficient."
Eli sighed, " Babies are not--oh, never mind."
They reached their quarters. Thrawn stepped inside, set the infant on their couch, and studied him with a focus of someone deciphering a puzzle he hadn't expected to care about.
Eli remained in the doorway, unable to move.
A baby.
On their couch
A baby who hadn't existed in their lives half an hour ago.
He swallowed, " Thrawn."
"Yes?"
"There is a baby on our couch."
"This is correct."
"He wasn't here earlier."
"Also correct."
Eli exhaled slowly, " Do you see any problem with that?"
Thrawn looked at him with serene unshakable certainty.
"You wished for a child," he said softly. "This is the most efficient path."