I. What If: Thrawn/Pellaeon
Three minutes doesn't seem like a lot of time. In reality, it isn't. In a lifetime, three minutes is barely a fraction of anything. A fraction of a fraction.
It feels so much longer when it's spent watching the man you love die.
Pellaeon sighed, closing his eyes against the memory of medics darting frantically around the Grand Admiral. There was no point in reliving that again. He had tortured himself enough with the memory already and managed to pull himself out of the threatening gulf of depression some time ago. There was no point in turning back to that. Wallowing in guilt and misery served no positive purpose. Asking 'What could have been?' for the thousandth time wasn't going to suddenly change anything.
He had responsibilities now. An Empire to watch over. Decisions to make.
Though, Pellaeon supposed he had already made up his mind on one of those decisions.
Suddenly faced with it he felt rather foolish. Maybe he should have thought this out a