The notebook had been haphazardly left out on the desk on Pellaeon's side of their room. It stood out among the stacks of datacards and pads since it was the only thing that was not electronic. It was new and Thrawn assumed that it was something he had been given by the therapist he had started seeing since the incident.
Which meant that he probably should not read it.
As his commanding officer, that would violate some privacy regulations and doctor-patient confidentiality.
As his significant other though, he had started to get worried. They hadn't talked about what had happened in any meaningful way and while he understood Pellaeon's desire to keep it all in for the time being, he just wanted to know if he was okay.
Thrawn considered his options, and then stepped over to the desk and flipped the notebook open with a finger, careful to keep from displacing it. He flipped through the first few pages and skimmed the words as he went.
It seemed to be a journal cataloging thoughts and emotions, each entry both dated and timestamped. Most of the entries were short and to the point, which did not surprise him all that much. Pellaeon probably found the idea of someone like him keeping a journal laughable.
Many of the entries where benign – evidently Pellaeon was about as keen on expressing himself on paper as he was on expressing himself verbally. In a few he did complain about how difficult certain tasks were now, and in two entries he almost hinted at some anger he felt at the situation.
One entry near the end caught Thrawn's attention though. It was not the most recent one, being dated a few days back, but it was the first one where he talked about the incident directly. And he actually sounded as if he had come to accept what had happened to a certain extent; at least it seemed as if he were willing to embrace the change until a replacement arm could be attached.
But all of that acceptance stemmed from an assumption he wrote about: that if he hadn't put himself in danger, then Thrawn would have died. That, if it ever came between himself and Thrawn, he would absolutely put himself in danger. That it was better for him to get hurt than Thrawn.
It was a commendable trait for an officer – to be willing to die for your commander.
But to read Pellaeon talk about himself as if he were nothing more than a pawn, some cog in a machine that could just be removed and replaced when it stopped working, as if his presence had no real value beyond what he could do.
That – that hurt.
Thrawn understood that the Empire counted on him, but did Pellaeon not realize that Thrawn counted on him too? Did he not realize how much Thrawn cared about him, and how much it would have devastated him if he had died – how much it had devastated him when the doctor told him there was nothing they could do, and then pulled out a saw in a last-ditch effort to stop the rot from spreading? How much the crew would miss him if he were gone?
He flipped the book closed and felt worse than when he had opened it. They were going to have to talk about this later, whether Pellaeon wanted to or not.