To Twylight Elf: I am oh so glad I changed that tornado scene. Yes, that did drown Thrawn out a bit, didn't it?

To BGTom: Keep guessing... :-) And thanks so much for putting me on your favorites list. :blush:

To Katharina: I'm glad you enjoyed it and thought the end brilliant. I'm very hopeful this chapter turned out just as well.

To Lynn: I'm happy you liked my Thrawn.

To cycloneogirl: I agree with you that Thrawn certainly had some nobility in his goals. Though he's evil, he is certainly intriguing and more than a two dimensional villain...I agree with you on that one too. History is indeed written by the winners. It's what makes both SW and LotR aggravating sometimes >-( I won't go into that...As for him learning he is a fictional character I'm sure he wouldn't take it very well.

To Aryna: I tend to work more on Thrawn being evil than good, though perhaps he will turn out good. At the moment I like him as he is. Charming, intelligent, but cold and sinister. Anyway, I'm glad you like my story:-)

To gatermage: Nah. I'm just letting her suffer. :rubs hands together and cackles with glee:

Disclaimer: I don't own SW

Chapter Five

For a split second Ariah felt as though her heart was going to pound out of her chest as the room was enveloped in pitch black darkness. It was one thing to be standing in the presence of Thrawn in a room filled with light. It was quite another to be standing alone in the dark with him.

All around thunder crashed, and outside she could here the whispers of rain.

In the stillness of the room, and in the deep black Thrawn's slanting cat-shaped eyes glowed, bleeding pools of flame among the darkness.

Her breath caught in her throat. All time seemed to halt in the room, temperature dropping drastically. Blood rushed through her head, her heart drumming. It seemed deafeningly loud next to the screaming silence.

In a split second the emergency lights flicked on.

"Interesting weather," Thrawn commented dryly, choosing that moment to stand up at his full height.

He was somewhat taller than what she had thought he would be, and if it had been harder to talk to him before, it was even more so now. Everything about him was intimidating. And it wasn't just the eyes. It was his superiority, the level of intelligence which made her feel like a stupid cow.

"Yes. It is interesting," she agreed, voice soft. "I've…hated…storms since I was a small child. I was in a rough one. A twister. I mean—it landed in my yard. My mom had to take me to the cellar with my brothers."

"I have seen many rough storms in my own life," Thrawn said quietly, and she wondered if he meant it in a metaphorical sense or literally. She decided to take it literally.

He looked like he wanted to add to that statement, but decided against it. Abruptly, as though the topic bothered him to some extent (though he probably didn't care), he changed the subject.

"So. You only wanted to check on me?"

"I wanted to learn more about you. You intrigue me."

"You are afraid of me."
She grimaced mentally.

"It's a bit cold in here," she said, folding her arms across her chest and rubbing her forearms. They were somewhat cold.

"Indeed."
She knew he could see right through her attempts, knew her fear. He had an advantage to her and knew it.

"So you like art," she said, "I wanted to be an artist ever since I was very young." That sounded highly lame but she couldn't exactly shove it back down her throat now that it was exposed to Thrawn's ears.

"I love art, yes. In all its forms."

She shivered, remembering how he used it.

"I like most types. I don't like abstract very much. It's too chaotic and most of the time abrasive."

She was being blunt but she didn't care.

"Some do not understand it or appreciate it for what it is."

Thrawn had something about him—an aura—which both charmed and repulsed her. He was an intriguing puzzle, a mystery, and she found herself coming slowly closer to him as though drawn silently by command.

"It's, um, just like looking at confusing splatters of paint, strokes, and, uh, inky scribbles. To me." Oh why had she said that? She blushed and shut her mouth. How many more times would she have to put her foot in her mouth? She was humiliated and wished the meeting to be over real soon. Though somehow she was reluctant to leave so quick.

Thrawn gave the slightest shrug of the shoulders.

"Everyone has their preferences."

"So…um…what have you learned about our…psychology…so far from the art?"

"Why would you want to know?" Thrawn returned casually, but there was something about his voice which sent shivers up and down her spine.

If she had put one foot in her mouth, now she had two feet in her mouth. He had kept that aspect of art secret in the books, and the only person he had revealed that certain talent to had been Captain Pellaeon. She had just touched sacred territory without knowing it. And how was she supposed to answer his question? "You're a fictional character and I read about it in a book?" That would sound lame and besides, he wouldn't believe her. Thrawn was a creature of logic and science. It was illogical to be seemingly alive and breathing while being unreal. And it wasn't scientific.

"Nevermind." This certainly was not her day. "It isn't important."

Thrawn cocked a blue-black brow, but didn't say anything to her.

There was a quite long and rather uncomfortable pause.

"The storm has calmed down a bit," Ariah said, trying to fill in the screaming silence.

"It has indeed."

The door opened at that moment, and suddenly she could breathe again.

A nurse stepped in to check on Thrawn, writing down everything on a clipboard and then left as quick as she had come.

"Um, have you done any works of art?" she asked, wishing she could step out of the room just as easily as the RN had.

"Some. I confess I am not much of an artist or craftsman. I prefer to study art than create my own."

"I like to look at it. Though sometimes it does confuse me," Ariah said in reply, looking up at the clock on the wall.

She was astonished to find she had been there for only thirty minutes. She felt like she had been in Thrawn's presence for an eternity.

"You are torn between leaving and staying. You are still afraid, but are simultaneously fascinated by my person."

Talk about reading me like a book, she thought.

She took a few steps back, keeping a safe distance away.

"What makes you believe I'm attracted to you?" she demanded. But it was true. She was attracted to the blue-skinned devil. There was more to him than met the eye.

"It's fairly obvious," he stated in glacial calm.

He's trying to get me to run. Probably would enjoy it, too. Well, I'm not going to go anywhere! At first she believed this was what he was doing, and then she realized he was toying with her emotions, trying to find which button to push. Testing her.

"But if you choose to deny it, then by all means go right on ahead," he continued.

She frowned, but the next thing he said caught her off guard.

"You have managed to capture my interest."

She had?

"Yes. It has been so long since I have talked to someone who has some appreciation for art. I am also fascinated by the fact you were afraid of me, yet wanted to see me anyway."

She found her cheeks turning red and she looked away. She wanted to deny those things, but she couldn't.

"Perhaps we should see each other again soon. I enjoyed our meeting."