Thank you for reviewing, Imperial warlord, serenity8118, and lord natahan! Seeing a review alert always makes me feel happy and brightens my day. ^_^ First off, I apologize for taking so long to update. My summer and this semester have been insanely busy, and my muse has been fickle. Also, I just couldn't decide how to write this chapter! I finally figured out what to do and how I was going to end it, though, thankfully. :-P

lord natahan- I am very relieved to hear that Thrawn is in character. Given the unique setting, I wasn't sure how I would do that. At the same time, I feel that I can write him better here, when he would logically act a little differently than on the bridge of a Star Destroyer. I'm not sure if I could keep him true to character in that instance, although I've not tried much. I also am glad to hear that you like what I've done with the setting and, well, everything. I think, from here on out, it's going to become harder to keep the Grand Admiral in proper character, so please don't hesitate to tell me if you feel I'm straying beyond any boundaries. All in all, I'm glad I'm able to provide a very different story for you that co-stars our favorite Imperial. :-)

As a warning to all, I have absolutely no idea when I'm going to next update. And you all, I'm sure, are going to be so mad at me with this cliffhanger . . .

(10-22-11 edit: I finally designed the house for this story, and so I decided to go through all the chapters and edit everything to do with the building. In the process, I edited other things as well: awkward lines, repetition, not enough description, and such. The first chapter especially received this, for I found I still didn't like how I started and ended it. As such, I removed a snippet from the end and added a paragraph at the beginning. For those of you who have already read these chapters, I suggest that you take a look. If this is your first time through, well, you didn't miss anything. :-P Enjoy, all! I'll add this paragraph to the author's notes at the beginning of the next chapter, as well . . .)

-Chapter Ten-

It was an old scene, one that had haunted the sleeper for years.

"Em, run! Take Tanya!"

Always the same, never deviating . . .

"Liz, no!"

"Mommy!

Horrible images she couldn't forget.

A jerk. Burnt flesh.

"ELIZABETH!"

And then her own cry, echoing in her mind. A terrified scream that halted just before the threshold of reality . . .

"Mommy? MOMMY? MOMMIIEEE!"

Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. Gasping, Tanya came awake, fear still coursing through her veins. It had been so long since she had last had that dream, and she had even been able to put it to the back of her mind before the other day.

It was probably brought on by that painting, she decided, even as she donned her robe to abate her shivering. She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest. But that was it. Just a nightmare. I saw a picture of him before – she showed me one once – and I must have inserted it into my nightmare. And it was just that. A nightmare.

Somehow, she managed to convince herself, the realness of the dream making it seem as if it had really happened. Then, after a moment, she slipped out of bed to fetch herself a drink of water. The nightmare had left her throat parched, her mouth dry, and she wondered if she had in fact stayed silent in her terror.

Halfway across the room, though, she paused. There was an irregular shadow on the carpet . . .

The shadow moved.

Tanya froze, the adrenaline pumping anew. No tree, no wild animal made that sort of shadow, and her room was too far above the grass for that to happen. She turned to look, her breath caught in her throat, and let loose a shriek as the glass shattered. It hit the carpeted floor with a tinkling sound as the shards struck each other, and she brought her arms up to shield her face. A second later, she peered through them at the figure framed by moonlight. He was tall and muscular, decked out in black, and the dull, cold metal of a blade glowed threateningly from where it rested, clenched in a black-gloved fist. Dark eyes, inscrutable in the dim light, gleamed as they fixated solely on her. A small movement by the man, and Tanya bolted.

Her door swished obediently open as she ran to it, and she paused only to slap an alarm switch on her way out. By then, the intruder had lunged after her, booted feet pounding against the stone tile of the hallway as he pursued. Tanya shrieked again at a close call, the sound lost in the blaring siren, and then she was running once more.

...

Red eyes opened to take in the blackness, their owner frowning. An unsettling feeling had nested deep in Thrawn just then, and he couldn't help but feel that something was not right. But what could it be? He and his hostess had reconciled with each other, at least to a degree, but that had led to a feeling of rightness, not . . . this, whatever it was.

With a sigh, Thrawn resigned himself to not falling back asleep and stood, going to where a set of more leisurely clothes were folded. Black slacks were donned in replacement of pajama bottoms, followed by a collared white shirt, and he found himself missing his dress whites. He had a job to do, however, and not his normal one. Certainly, this one came with its perks – being able to teach on art – but he could not allow that to overshadow his true purpose on Ceurel. This was, after all, not a vacation.

Thrawn held back a sigh as he brought up the lights and studied his reflection. The style of the outfit didn't suit him. That, or he was just used to seeing himself in a military uniform. There were few days in his life, once he graduated from the academy of Csilla, in which he wore civilian garb, and now he had been wearing it for several weeks. Perhaps a different shirt would sooth his unsettled nerves?

Unsettled . . .? He frowned at the concept, knowing something had to be wrong outside of his wardrobe. He considered the idea as he swapped for a black shirt with long sleeves and a collar reminiscent of the Imperial Navy uniforms. Call him fickle, but he just wasn't in the mood for the usual dress shirt and tie today. Besides, something told him he would want something a little more casual than what he had already . . .

That feeling was still there, and he moved over to his desk to continue some research he had started the night before. He needed to think, but he also needed somewhere to start.

The first thing that popped up on the computer terminal's screen was a familiar image, one he had discussed with his class just a day ago. When he saw it, his mind immediately began evaluating what he knew.

Fact: Samuel Claudor was a thief and a murderer.

Fact: He had been disowned from his family.

Fact: Records of him had disappeared more thoroughly than should be technically possible for the family, and more quickly.

Fact: Elizabeth Claudor Tangier was dead under questionable circumstances.

Fact: Tanya had nightmares that contained her uncle that started around the time of her mother's death.

Fact: Thrawn had been sent here to prevent a criminal organization, yet to be revealed, from killing someone in the capital city of Ceurel.

Fact: Gerald Tangier knew something, and he really, really did not like leaving his daughter alone.

Fact: Gerald had not been there when his wife died, and now he was once again not present.

Fact: The feeling in his gut was worse now than before.

Thrawn studied the trial painting with a furrowed brow, eyeing carefully the expressions on the subjects' faces. Elizabeth herself was painted with a stiff form, wariness and fear in her gaze as she stared at her brother. Another woman, Emila Claudor, clutched at the older sister's arm. But this wasn't fear of his being convicted . . . Thrawn knew that expression; it was fear of the man the look was aimed at, fear that he would be let free. As for Samuel, there was anger and smugness in his eyes, a knowing look that said, "You can't hold me." And there, there was something he had missed . . .

It was mostly hidden, a tattoo concealed by a sleeve cuff that was almost unnoticeable. Only the edge could be seen, but Thrawn hissed in recognition. Oh, it would have had to be them, wouldn't it? Now was he acting alone, or did that organization have some plan or problem that involved the Claudor and Tangier families? Because he could connect the dots as well as any other – better, even – and the dots that were connecting were painting a big red target on his charge.

Thrawn cursed, nearly upsetting his chair as he stood in a hurry. The silence had been shattered by a blaring alarm, the one that would only go off if manually activated. And aside from him and the cleaning droids, there was only one other who should be occupying this building.

He was sprinting for the wardrobe before the thought even finished formulating, instincts running high and operating in conjunction with his training. His blaster was in the top drawer, along with its spare cells, and he pulled all of them out. The power cells were shoved into a pocket as he moved for the door, the blaster held ready in his hands.

He was cautious not to immediately rush into the hall. Instead, as the door slid open, he peered around the corners to check that it was clear. Seeing only an empty hallway, he started out to the right at a fast clip that was not as reckless as a run. Tanya was in trouble, yes, but it would not do to get himself killed from lack of focus. He had to be alive to keep her alive.

...

It felt like Jet was playing a drum solo in her chest as she ran, as if Twilight Storm had come to life inside of her. Bolts of adrenaline shot through her, giving her limbs the energy and the speed she needed to stay ahead of the black-garbed intruder. But she knew this could not last, and that she needed somewhere to hide until Thrawn found her. Otherwise, the loop of the hallway would wear her down.

Images of tunnels superimposed themselves on her vision, and she shook them away. Her nightmare was too close, still dogging the edges of her mind. The recency of it and the eerie similarity to her present situation kept it fresh, her terror doubled because of it. But, oh, that the tunnels – or at least some secret room – existed, so that she could give her would-be killer the slip. Or- hang on, this could work. Two doors stood directly opposite each other: to the right a closet, big enough for her to hide behind anything in it, and to the left the entrance to the corridor that led to the kitchen and the garage. She would have to get the timing just right, but-

Cutting her own thought off, Tanya slapped her hand against the control to the door that led to the adjoining hallway, pushing forcefully off and propelling herself to the closet. It opened quickly for her, then closed just as rapidly. Just in time, too, for the sound of footsteps echoed quietly as they paused at the closing hall door and changed course, heading directly away. With a deep sigh of relief, Tanya bonelessly slid down behind a couple boxes that contained cleaning supplies, furiously trying to get her body back under control. Her pulse was racing like the old podracers she'd heard about, and her breathing was ragged. A part of her mind told her that she should get moving, that she should head back the way she had come in an attempt to throw the intruder off of her trail even more. In her exhaustion, she didn't pay the sensible idea much mind as she struggled to calm her breathing. A chill fell over her, and her mind became strangely blank as one string of thought sounded over and over. Run, run, get away, hide, don't let him find you. He's going to kill you!

And then the door open, and Tanya spun her head about to look in horror. Glazed eyes stared unfocused at a figure dressed in black, silhouetted by the bright light of the hallway. That registered in her mind, and she jerked back to press against the corner. "No . . ." she gasped in panic. "Don't kill me, no!"

Edited 10-22-11