To gatermage: Yeah, if I were here I'd be panicking, too. Especially after this chapter.

To Lynn: I hope you enjoy this chapter. I describe Thrawn a bit differently than other authors. I get tired of him looking too--normal--in fanart, art, etc. He still looks human in the face, just not so ordinary.

To Katharina: Thanks for the compliment:-) I hope you like this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own SW

Chapter Four

"You're preoccupied by something. Are you still taking charity for that…um…patient you told me about?" Charlotte Delfron asked Ariah over the counter. She was a coworker.

Ariah flushed, knowing she had been staring into space for a good time now, watching the golden heat of the sun striking the pavement. It was nearly time for her to clock out, which, while she knew it was best to talk to him in person she was also very reluctant to do so. She had had a sufficient amount of difficulty focusing, not to mention frequent bouts of diarrhea due to her nerves. All because of one meeting. One meeting she would never forget.

"I'm fine." She faked a smile, though her stomach was twisting into all sorts of knots. "Um, I'm still accepting charity for the patient. Trying to pay the medical insurance is tough. Near impossibility. I have to visit him today at three in the evening…. Um, are there any really redeemable traits in Thrawn? I mean, like he isn't lying, manipulating, or decieving anyone, etc?"

Charlotte let out an exaggerated sigh, much to Ariah's annoyance. She had read Timothy Zahn's Thrawn trilogy herself and was a big fan of the author.

"Ariah, you're jumping to shadows. What makes you think that? There are many redeemable traits in Thrawn. He doesn't needlessly kill his men, he"—

"What about Chris Petierson? What about the fact he was using only a small percentage of the Imperial troops and didn't want to lose them because they were all he had? He didn't care for the clones."

"I think you need to get a grip. Pellaeon said in the later books that Thrawn's government would be one of order, unity, and of common purpose. Thrawn's plans were full of altruism. The whole reason he fought the New Republic was to whip them in fighting shape against the threats of the Unknown Regions. That's all. His goal was a noble one, to unite the galaxy against the 'hundred threats' Parck spoke of in Visions."

Ariah didn't say anything in reply to her friend's words for a moment. But something nagged at her mind until she had to release it verbally.

"What if he was lying? What if he had decieved the Chiss all along and only wanted to bring them under a totalitarian rule? How would one truly discern what is true and what is false?" Ariah asked bleakly as she clocked out.

Charlotte frowned, her expression grim. Ariah felt as though a Shadow had fallen into the store, a ghost of unreality and concept, nothing more, but dwelling between two worlds. She shivered.

"To quote Mara: 'That's a cheery idea.' You'd better go. It's a quarter till three now," Charlotte said.

Ariah hastily gathered herself up and headed with a determination she didn't feel to Everglade Hospital. It felt surreal, as the last three weeks had been. Thrawn was on earth. He was real. Breathing. He used to be just a concept on paper, but something had made him real.

The drive was too short for comfort, though she also wanted to get the meeting out of the way. She had split ideas about Thrawn. One part of her wanted to believe he had been essentially a good guy in the wrong place. But the other part spoke of other things. Things that seemed good, but were, in fact, foul.

As she drove into the parking lot she breathed a quick prayer, hoping to gain some strength from above. She didn't.

She pulled into a slot and, killing the motor, scrambled out stiffly. As she approached the building, she couldn't help but feel as though she was being watched. And the sky was dark with gray stormclouds. Terrific.

Paranoia. That's all it is. Perhaps I need to visit a shrink, she thought, and made her way to the entrance.

To her surprise, she didn't have to tell the desk receptionist what she was doing there.

"He's in Room 303. Third level. Have a nice day."
Ariah realized she hadn't even known which room Thrawn was in until now. In fact, this was the first time she had stepped foot in Everglade Hospital since the day the alien had been hospitalized. The floors were polished, and random ferns and plants served as light décor here and there. There were a few paintings, two still lifes and one abstract.

All corners of the hospital were smooth, so smooth the interior should have belonged in a sci-fi movie. The atmosphere was calm where she was at, and for a moment she felt her nerves ease up a little. Then she spotted the black and silver elevator, and her nerves returned. She tried to calm the heart pounding in her chest, the chills running down her spine, the feeling she had of the whole thing being a dream.

You aren't supposed to be real, she grated out in her head, glad Thrawn couldn't hear her.

Room 303. She took a deep breath and released it slowly before knocking on the door rather tentatively. "Come in," a voice from within ordered casually.

She swallowed nervously and entered. The yellow walls were covered with pieces of artwork. Some had to have been either extremely expensive or had been bought at a yard sale. Evidently the doctor had seen the need to make Thrawn feel more at home. But this was not what drew her attention. Her focus was upon the man, the alien, the character—seated near a hospital bed, the bed with covers neatly folded so no wrinkle showed.

He was very attractive she had to admit. He had an angular, exotic face, which spoke of hidden sensuality. His eyes were slanted a little and almost cat-shaped. The eyebrows were thick, and his hair was thick and wavy, blue highlights shimmering in the light like a sea of stars. His build was muscular, but more slender than what she, and possibly most of his fans, had imagined.

He wore a black shirt, black pants, and black boots. Black made him look even more attractive and alluring, and he had an aura of regality as was befitting for a Grand Admiral. For a moment she nearly forgot what she had come there for, as though a spell had been cast upon her and she had to break it.

She felt her heart nearly stop beating while she realized the eyes, those exotic ruby-red eyes which glowed like those of a jungle cat's, were fixed on her. They were like two orbs of red fire within his sockets, two orbs that hungrily ate up visual information…

"Um, I…I just wanted to, uh, check on you." She knew she sounded uncertain, but those eyes were turning her blood into ice water.

He favored her with a smile—but his eyes remained unsmiling.

"I'm actually quite all right now." His eyes moved graciously away, the fierce, burning glow upon a bronze sculpture of a Western cowboy on a bucking bronco. But his thoughts were inward. "Though it is disturbing to know I am stranded on a planet with no space ports or shipyards."

Ariah was about to say something when the red orbs flashed over to her.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she could hear the faint sound of rain pitter-pattering on the roof of the hospital, as though an ominous omen.

Outside the window, she could see the dark blue, churning stormclouds of a violent thunderstorm. Lightning arced, crackled, brightened the room.

Ariah felt as though she was inside a story for a moment, and then it went away.

"It's only a little bit of rain," she murmured. She feared storms ever since the day a tornado had landed in her yard. Torrents of rain poured down after her statement. She frowned.

There was a flash of lightning, a sharp crack, and the lights went out, leaving her alone in the dark with Thrawn.