To cycloneozgirl: I am most definitely continuing this. I love/hate Thrawn, and the story has a certain question about his character. Thanks for your review!

To Twylight Elf: Heya, Sis! Yes, this is MUCH lighter than Rebound. But I like Jake/Sauron a LOT better than Thrawn, though I like pestering the Grand Admiral. (rubs hands together and cackles with glee)

To Saber Girls: Thanks for your review! I started this wondering where it would go, and though I'm STILL not quite sure, I'm having fun working on it.

Disclaimer: I own not SW nor Thrawn, who I love/hate as an SW character.

Chapter Three

The phone rang early the next morning, and Dr. Milstan told Ariah that Thrawn was doing great. He was healing faster than a human and would be out of the hospital in no time at all. But there was a problem as how to keep his presence secret from the SW fans.

"I think it's inevitable that they would find out," she told him, blinking her eyes sleepily. Again, she had had little sleep and all she had had was nightmares.

"Yes. I suppose you're right. Anyway, I have to go back to my patient. My advice is: Don't worry about Thrawn. He's harmless, weaponless, and as far as I know he's way too intelligent to start killing people off the cuff."

He proceeded to soothe her anxieties by telling her all Thrawn had done had been part of war. War was filled with tragedies, and it effected more than the soldiers fighting it, but the women and children. She wanted to cry out, "But he slaughtered them when there wasn't war!" but she held her peace.

She ran a hand through her hair. She knew what she had to do. She had to meet Thrawn face-to-face and while he was up and about.

"When will he be leaving the hospital?"

"Hopefully soon. The hospital is having trouble keeping him secret. One RN ran home squealing about Everglade Hospital's alien patient," the doctor said, then added, "She was a fangirl of the character."

I liked Thrawn, too—when he wasn't real. Now I have to deal with him in person.

She nodded her head. Sleep. She needed sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy.

"I want to...um, see him sometime. When are the visiting hours?" she asked.

"We haven't allowed anyone to visit him so far, though it's inevitable that his presence would be known soon. Also, I don't believe he wishes for anyone to see him other than me and a few nurses. He likes to be left alone with his own thoughts."

"I see. Yeah. He tends to do that a lot." A chill went down her spine.

"He doesn't say much. Very polite when he does speak. He has a pleasant voice. Deep. Rich. Well cultivated. He speaks proper English—or Basic. Whichever one," he said, and added, "Would you really want to see him? I'll tell him about your request."
"Don't tell him I'm scared witless of him, all right?"

"Of course not. Though he'll figure it out anyway right off the bat. He's like that. One day a nurse came to visit him and he told me later he could tell she was scared witless of him even though she had been known to be a terrific actress. That says a lot about Thrawn. He's almost psychic. It's freaky."
"Yeah. Um, look Doc—I'd better go."

"Take care. Rest and don't worry about him."

Sure, Doc. Easier said than done. She hung up the phone. Sleep. It called to her. Beckoned to her. Sleep. Rest. Wonderful rest.

She closed her eyes and fell into dreamless sleep upon the couch.

She awoke at sunset, the sun casting warm golden rays through the windows of her house. She groaned and looked at the clock on the mantle. Six o'clock. She had slept for only four hours, but it felt much longer.

She had a bad taste in her mouth, as though hundreds of tiny critters had crawled into her mouth and had died there or used it as a commode. Not to mention the fact she had a full bladder.

After relieving herself and brushing the innards of her oral cavity with toothbrush and toothpaste, she headed over to the kitchen to fix something to eat. She was starving.

And that was when she heard her radio alarm clock go off in her room. She had slept through the entire day and she had to be at work by seven thirty!

Panicking, she threw on some clothes to head over to the grocery store where she worked as a cashier. It was a tiny store in the middle of the downtown area in Paducah with an antique old England sign which said, Food Easy. She had pointed out to the manager that it also read, Easy to fool. The outside of the grocery store looked like a pleasant bakery, but inside was mouldy bread, bad cuts of meat, and rotten (or nearly rotten) vegetables. All sold at the cheapest price.

She was about to head out the door to work, but the phone, ringing, stopped her. She gave a weary sigh, knowing it was probably Dr. Milstan. She would have to tell him she was about to go out the door.

She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

"I believe you wanted to see me. Would three in the evening be fine?"

Thrawn. It was his voice. It sounded much different from what she had thought it would sound like. More deep and fluid.

She was speechless for a moment.

"You didn't have plans for the evening, am I correct?" Thrawn continued.

Her cheeks flushed red.

"Yes—No. I mean…three is good. Three's great. Um, I have to go to work. See you." She finished abruptly, hanging up the phone, the urge to say, sir stuck in her throat. He carried a load of authority in that voice…

She didn't finish her thought and walked out the door, knowing she would have to meet Thrawn.