Note: Noticed earlier I had made a mistake in the story. I mention in the first chapter (because it was originally the prologue) that Cecia remembers her mother telling her labor is like menstrual cramps but in the true prologue it talks of how her parents died when she was three. If anyone notices anymore inconsistencies please tell me.

Also, I was wondering if I should up the rating to "M". I hate doing that, because I know it will drive people away, but at the same time I want to have the right rating. With the subject matter I'm almost thinking it would be best M but am still unsure.

And the song is the same from the last chapter except in a different part.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. It's just a fanfic.

So you will not break, you distance yourself from me
Don't say words like you can't smile or you hate people

Now it's by and by, even if you cannot see, there's a meaning to everything
Shoulder the burden of the past that cannot be erased; don't throw away your will to live

Chapter Three

The man at Jag's Tri Diner took another long swig of his jawa juice, dark blue eyes taking a brief glance at whoever entered the diner. He had a five o'clock shadow and there were dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep in the past few days. Of course, no one would ever know why he had been having little sleep…

He looked at his chrono watch. Sith. That blasted Shinimi was supposed to come much earlier!

As though in answer to his thoughts, the door swung open and his contact entered.

"May I help you?" the droid waitress asked in her artificial upbeat voice.

The Shinimi whistled and said, "No. Thanks."

He then walked toward the man that was waiting for him.

"What did you find, Josan?" the Shinimi whispered in a crooning voice once he had sat himself across from him. Josan Milburn glanced around to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. He had been trained up in military combat and in observation skills. His biotech mechanical eyes aided him in the latter. The eyes had an authentic appearance, having realistic colored lenses that imitated the dialation and constriction of ordinary organic eyes.

"Elra Quantor has made a transfer to Naboo. On the outskirts of Moenia in fact."

The Shinimi made a puzzled chirrup mixed with a sharp click.

"Elra Quantor?" he asked.

Josan nodded, taking another gulp of his juice. His eyes flicked around the diner and then he said in a low voice, "The name of His quarry has been changed to Elra Quantor," he paused and lowered his voice even more so that it was barely audible, "Her house has been outfitted with specialized guard units disguised as domestic protocal droids. Relay that info back to Him."

Before Iiriini could leave Josan added, "When do I get paid?"

The Shinimi released a series of low whistles, the same as a shrug among the alien race.

"You have to settle that with Him."

Josan swallowed convulsively. He would much rather sit quietly and wait for Thrawn to pay him than to actually approach him about it. Though he had worked under Thrawn before, it was quite another to actually meet him face to face.

Everyone knew he had blue skin and red eyes, but there was something chilling about him that had nothing to do with physical appearances. It was that unseen brain. That intelligence. The knowledge that whatever Thrawn wanted he would get, no matter how much pain it caused anyone in the meanwhile.

His ears picked up the sound of fabric moving over rubber, and he glanced across from him to see a tall woman with wavy auburn hair sprinkled liberally with gray stand up from her table. She wore an classic business suit, clear glass lenses over her eyes, and she was carrying a containment pouch.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully. "I'm Melita Ronswan. May I talk to you for a sec?"

Warning bells went off in his mind. There was something suspicious about her. The woman appeared innocent, but at the same time Josan wasn't about to trust her.

"Why should I?" he asked.

Ronswan (if that was her real name) reached her hand into her pouch to pull up a small hand blaster, most of it still submerged in the pouch to be discreet.

"I felt like a nice chat," she said, still holding up the friendly charade. Her blue eyes were harder than adamant.

"All right. We'll have a chat outside."

He moved as though to get up. Ronswan turned her gaze from him to the door. That would prove to be her mistake.

He lunged at her and tried to remove her grip from the weapon. He wrenched her arm behind her back, giving her a powerful sideways kick that made her lose her balance.

"What's going on?" the ruffled restaurant manager demanded in a throaty voice.

"This woman pulled a blaster on me, sir,' Josan said truthfully. "I would have her arrested if I were you."

I-I-I-I-I-I

Melita Ronswan cursed beneath her breath as she watched the man leave. She had been suspicious of him ever since he had entered Jag's Tri Diner. Especially after he had begun talking about Cecia Norvar.

Ronswan had been trained for many years as a secret agent. She wasn't nearly as talented as Mara Jade, but normally she was able to take on other agents from different organizations. That man had been too much for her. All because she had taken one quick look away from him. How stupid!

Ronswan had made a mistake, and she hated making mistakes.

She had been motivated to find the leaders of the extremist movement that had been persecuting Norvas. It was illogical and cruel to destroy the victim of rape and the rapists son just because the aggressor was Grand Admiral Thrawn.

She had to help stop it before it grew out of hand.

Though, one of her regrets was that she hadn't asked the man's name firsthand. Now it would be especially hard to track him.

Making that mistake number two for the day.

And who was the He that Shinimi had spoken about? A crimelord, bitter prisoner, smuggler, an Imperial—what and who was the He?

I-I-I-I-I-I

Pain. Terror. The feeling of having her body, soul, and spirit ripped apart and soiled. Words were hissed in the night. Each thrust was merciless, each one splinters of pain. There was no escape from him. No escape. He had turned from polite well-mannered Grand Admiral to wild beast in a few seconds.

This was a nightmare. A dream. But it was reality in all its ugliness.

Her pleas, screams, and sobs were unheard. But she kept pleading, hoping he would hear her. Hoping in that somewhere there was a little bit of true mercy in that heart.

There was none.

"Stop! Please stop!"

Cecia woke up sobbing and crying out the last word, curling herself up into fetal position, trying hard to still the racing of her heart. Her mind was reliving the trauma from that moment. Something she couldn't allow. She wanted to live, she wanted to forget the pain both physical and emotional.

But it was hard to fully forget. She was reminded constantly of Thrawn by her son, by the attacks made on her, by these dreams—it wasn't something she could forget at the drop of a hat.

It's all over, she told herself, rocking gently back and forth to comfort herself, soothing herself with the movement. He's dead. It was just a dream. It's all over.

She closed her eyes and turned her mind to other matters.

It had been two days since she had moved to the large town of Moenia. Several times while unpacking she had wished she wasn't threatened, that there were no hero-wannabe extremists out there after her. Moenia, and Naboo in general, was a lovely place to be. She would have loved to take a walk, sit outside, or meet the inhabitants aronud her.

But she was to be in hiding.

It wasn't fair. This fate pushed on her.

Cris Petierson's death. The rape. Being hunted by extremist groups. Was she going to be haunted and tormented all her life by all three?

Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Stop it, Cecia. Just don't think of it. All right?" she whispered to herself, tossing aside bed covers to see Sorvan several rooms down.

The nanny droid was watcing over him in the crib.

His glowing red eyes were shut with sleep, his breathing slow, peaceful.

Despite the fact he was taking his nap, his mother decided she needed to hold him close to her again. The one joy of her life. Sorvan. No one could ever take him away. She would never let them. All of the past traumas in her life would be nothing if the extremists won the battle and killed her baby.

"Miss Norvar, are you sure you want to hold him right now?" the nanny droid questioned.

"He'll get over it," Cecia murmured, reaching a finger down to caress her son's blue cheek. His tiny lips twitched in sleep and he made a terribly cute sigh, fingers curling around his little pillow.

Cecia smiled at the adorable, peaceful pose. She had seen Sorvan countless times sleeping that way, sighing in that manner, or clenching his tiny fingers around the pillow.Yet these moments to Cecia, seeing him asleep and witnessing his red eyes flutter open as he awoke, were still priceless.

"Hey," she whispered, afraid suddenly of breaking Sorvan's tranquil moment. She was reluctant to disturb him in any way now that she had seen him being absolutely adorable.

His little mouth opened in a yawn, a little 'o' shape.

Cecia was torn between holding him or letting him sleep.

Letting him sleep won out and she continued to watch him with a sense of maternal pride.

I-I-I-I-I-I

Grand Admiral Thrawn leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes partially closed. An edge of red gleamed out from blue-black lashes. He was seating alone inside the grand room, Corellian flame paintings set around the room like the interior of a museum.

They were all holographic, but that didn't stop the feeling of awe as Iiriini stepped foot in the room.

"Yes, Iiriini?" Thrawn asked without so much as moving a muscle.

For a brief moment, looking at grand masterpieces, he almost forgot about what he was there for and he had to rethink for a moment.

"Sir, Cecia Norvar has moved to the outskirts of Moenia, Naboo in the Chommel Sector of the Outer Rim," he said as he remembered. "She has changed her name to Elra Quantor. Her house is heavily guarded by specialized guard droids desgined to look like domestic protocal types."

Thrawn allowed himself a smile of grim satisfaction, eyes opening completely.

"Excellent. Things are moving much smoother than I had anticipated. I will make my next move in person."

The last words startled Iiriini. Didn't Thrawn usually sit in the middle of the web instead of taking part? Wouldn't that make it blatantly obvious to the New Republic that Grand Admiral Thrawn was still alive?

"I will be needing your occassional assistance, of course." Thrawn gave a brief glance at his chrono watch. "We will be leaving in precisely one hour for Naboo."