CMC

by Sapadu

This future must not come to pass. A Wish that must be granted. Justice that must be delivered. Spoilers for most every book there is. (23-Jan-2023 update: Dead fic)

3. Chapter 2: Dehumanization

CMC

By Sapadu

Part I: Denial

Chapter 2: Dehumanization – a political or economic action that removes personal thought or action from the process, or deprives any action or person of human qualities or motives.

The week went by almost quickly enough to spare Ben and the twins any discomfort with their lodgings or awkwardness with those they shared the quarters with. By way of encounters, the only one to be had with the CMC herself was simply in the mornings when the three travelers would finally pry themselves up from bed and barely manage the last half-hour of brunch before even dressing for the day. Her Excellency had made a point to always be in the common lounge, dressed spectacularly, and sipping from a hot cuppa.

The first morning, Ben had been the first to see her – in a black jumpsuit that clung tightly enough to have been tailored from her own skin, save the vest with enough frill around the bottom and chords from breast to shoulder to look ridiculous – and almost fell over. He'd completely forgotten the strange twist their journey had taken the night before, until the Countess swept over and seized him by the cheeks.

"Sieur Ben – how well you seem to fare this morning! Was your repose for the better? Shall we be joined by your cousins, soon? The hour is so late – are any of you not well?" When she withdrew, Ben was left blinking and stammering, barely able to follow, "Oh, perhaps I mustn't badger you so – but how fine your spirits seem! 'Tis enough to infuse me with a lightness of heart. I might be tempted to steal you away – I shan't!"

All too quickly, her hands lifted off of Ben's person completely, her unbound, waist-length hair puffing and swinging with each odd gesture she made. Still, the antics were theatrical enough that, in spite of his disorientation, Ben found himself giggling and enjoying the precious moments alone with this strange woman. By the third day of the week, Ben had learned that the CMC deliberately spent the morning waiting for every person to rise and be on their way – and as he and Jacen and Jaina were the last to do so, consequently, she waited on them – and made an effort to be up at sunrise to spend a little longer observing her.

By the end of the week Ben had what he believed to be a full measure of the CMC's disposition – she was quick of tongue and wit, both significantly enough that Ben was forced to ask Threepio for translation just to keep up and he found himself more commonly attempting to mimic her outlandish way of speaking, often to her amused delight. The subjects she engaged Ben with could be equally strange to him – which left Ben with a need to ask questions and discover further mysteries to question – or simple and familiar enough that Ben more often found himself cackling at the frequent glee she exhibited over something so trivial. In short, she treated him as though she believed herself in the presence of an equal – whether that meant Ben was under duress to pretend he was an adult, or the Countess devolved into a strangely learned child.

~.~.~

Jacen had come to his own conclusions. Namely, he didn't like this woman.

At all.

Unfortunately, it was a very irrational, very visceral dislike. It unnerved him - and made him feel childish, which was all the more unnerving - that she was always waiting for them to get up in the mornings. Her clothes were bizarre, but also calculated and tame enough that they felt less like costumes and more like real clothes, which made him question why she wore them and where she came from. Strange clothing was weird, but Jacen was no stranger to odd customs or outlandish styles. But he KNEW all of them. Even things he found distasteful - and there were a lot of gaudy, slutty costumes at the Carnival that he found distasteful - he'd at least seen holos of in documents or from broadcasts.

Not knowing about some culture... well, logically, it suggested she had come from somewhere out of this galaxy.

The last... creatures... to come from outside the galaxy had been the Vong. And the Vong had been, perhaps not by coincidence, creatures that no Jedi had been able to feel in the Force, so they'd seemingly come completely out of nowhere.

Just like she had.

So, his irrational, visceral dislike of this strange, crazy woman wasn't so irrational, after all.

But it wasn't a rationality that, if he'd put it into words, would have gone over so well with his sister or, worse, Master Skywalker. And besides, he didn't hate the Vong – they had been misunderstood, and just as badly hurt by their own history as they did the rest of the galaxy. He could accept and understand them – which meant it would be irrational and unkind to equate his experiences with the simple, inoffensive oddities of a single stranger.

So Jacen kept it to himself, watched her carefully, and repeated the mantra of not saying anything if he couldn't find a way to say it politely or kindly. He hadn't been made a colonel during the war because he LACKED self-restraint. If the CMC noticed his stiffness or curt attitude, she made absolutely no mention and instead spent the time gushing over Ben.

Which led Jacen to the OTHER point that he didn't like this woman for.

"It occurred to me, last night, that the closing of Carnival's preoccupations is upon us, and we have spent but precious few hours in each other's company or with any inclinations for greater interest than a passing acquaintance." She didn't even bother with a 'Hello' or 'Good Evening' when Jacen half-led, half-dragged a fairly drunk sister of his through the door. Tomorrow would be the last day of this trip, and Jaina's apparent logic had been that she didn't want to be hungover on the trip back home – so, she got all of her drinking done on the SECOND to last day.

"How many of those spiriters did you HAVE?" He demanded to Jaina, under his breath. Jaina just giggled, then snapped her head up with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"'Ey – those flavors're only available in a few systems... coupla times-a year! They're DELICACIES! Had'ta least TASTE'Em all!" She protested, in the same tone of voice as that of a skilled orator and debater. Ben ignored them and had already seated himself in a chair right next to the Countess, as though expecting her to pay attention to him.

"What then, pray, should be your predisposition for this matter?" Ben asked, without any lilt to his voice that might have been mocking – so, Jacen assumed, he was trying to sincerely imitate this queer woman's way of talking.

"If Sieur Ben's intention was 'proposition', then I shall answer with what I mean to put forth." The CMC offered, smiling sweetly at Ben for the long moment it took for him to realize he'd gotten the word wrong. Jaina wouldn't be steered into the bedroom, and instead flopped over the back of a sofa and let her elbows dangle onto the floor, "But I was considering – as you all are adamant in your claim to be ill-acquainted with the on-goings of the Carnival – perhaps the three of you might see fit to join me for dinner tomorrow? 'Twould be a fine end to such a journey, and you all simply MUST see the finale of such a display."

"Really? What are they?" Ben asked, before remembering that the Countess was making the offer and amending, "I mean... pray, do tell..." Before Jaina's hand flopped on top of his head and shut him up as she muttered something into the cushions.

"She says 'Ben, stop talking like that – this lady can pull it off, but you can't.'" Jacen translated, knowing his sister well enough to know when she'd need his interpretation.

"I can SO!" Ben argued, "I spend more time talking with her than YOU guys – ask Threepio!"

All the while, the CMC sat back on her sofa, watching the conversation as though she'd deliberately set up the scenario to entertain herself. The freakishly tall man – the one that seemed to follow her everywhere she went, and the one whose entire demeanor made Jacen wary of the CMC in terms of an immediate threat – simply stood to the side and prepared something in a silver pot with a thin, curved spout, pouring the steaming drink and handing it off to his master without even a word.

It occurred to Jacen that he hadn't, in any time he'd seen the man, heard him so much as make a sound.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, Master Ben, you spend more time asking me what her Excellency is saying to you and what the words she uses mean." Threepio protested, only sparing the CMC a glance as though worried it had offended her, "Though her use of language is particularly stylized and her choice of words a touch archaic. I might be fluent in..."

"Yeah, yeah – over six million forms of communication, but you can't understand this one lady?" Jaina finally drawled, prying her face off of the cushions. Threepio huffed, as though offended.

"Not at all – it is simply a matter of nuance and interpretation. In many cases, there can be such phrases that might mean two entirely different things depending on the context, or even the tone of voice used. I personally find it a miracle that Humans are able to communicate, without assistance."

"Uh, guys? She's sitting right there – she can hear you." Ben spoke up again, and Jaina lifted her head enough to glance in the CMC's direction.

"My god, Ben, you're RIGHT!" Jacen heard himself exclaiming in a complete monotone, "When did YOU get here?"

The CMC looked up from her drink, blinked, and in turn acted stunned at the presence of the three in her living room.

"And who the blast are you?" She demanded, as though walking in on a compromising scene and only just now discovering there were people in the room she did not ordinarily live with.

Ben stood up and happily gestured to Jacen and Jaina.

"If I may be so general to present – my good cousins, the Sir and Missus Jacen and Jaina Solo, and our loyal escort, the estranged See-Threepio, and myself, Ben Skywalker!" This was said with a great deal of waving hands that had Jaina sliding face-first off of the couch and onto the floor with chuckles, whilst Jacen bemusedly mimicked Ben behind his back with the most exaggeratedly straight face he could manage.

The CMC watched this eccentric performance with all the devoted interest of a theatre attendee.

"I say, Gornash – do we not have acquaintances within the Solo family?" She finally asked of her valet, whom had returned to the tea set. Jacen stopped his vague attempts at comedy to pay more serious attention – the name sounded so strange from her lips that, it made Jacen realize with a start, he and Jaina had never really introduced themselves, and never told her their last names.

"It had occurred to me, Milady." The valet noted in a voice that was lovely, comforting, and more pleasant than Jacen might have associated with someone his size, "I believe we are acquainted with the Saxan Solos of the Correllian descent, the Fothingray-Phipps Solos from Eastern Space, and Sieur Mich Fouc Solo."

Jaina looked up from her position on the floor, just as confused as Jacen at the assault of names that neither of them recognized. Apparently, even the CMC was confused on this point.

"Really? I do not recall that last one…" And then her valet shimmered back over and handed her a fresh cup.

"His personal gentleman is an acquaintance of mine through the Ganymede Guild, Milady."

"Ah. Well then – whose lineage do you young ones claim to?" The CMC finally concluded, turning back to them, not unlike someone whom had been watching a prerecorded message, pressed pause, asked a fellow viewer a question, then returned to the recording without a break in concentration. Ben was left blinking and looking to Jacen for guidance, clearly lost by all the talk of Ganymede Guilds and Fothingray-Phipps Solos.

"Um… the lineagoge of Captain Han Solo?" Ben finally guessed.

The CMC's response was to tilt her head and blink. It was as though Ben had spoken using words incomprehensible to the Human ear.

"…You know – pilot of the Millennium Falcon… Was a hero in the war…" Jacen went on, when it became apparent that Ben thought his response sufficient.

"There's been a WAR?" The CMC asked, the very picture of sincerity.

"Might wanna clarify that one, Jacen." Jaina managed, propping herself up on her elbows enough to shoot Jacen a glance – one which, if he could still read his sister properly, Jacen recognized as matching his sentiment that there was no possible way this woman was THAT sheltered – and still make herself intelligible to the rest of the company present, "There's been more than the one…"

The CMC continued to sit on the sidelines, looking for all the world as though she thought herself separate from the conversation, or at least be as invested in the consequences as an abstract calculator.

"But there was the Yuzuhan Vong war that just ended – and there haven't been any others since…" Ben insisted, with the sincere determination of a child convinced that all of creation began at his own birth.

Jacen shook his head, with exasperation.

"Wha'ver – point is, thass' our Dad." Jaina slurred, pushing her body off the floor with all of the upper body strength of someone who had been in Jedi training since they could walk, and the coordination of a newborn foal, "An'sfar as I know, none of the other lin-lin... we're not related to any of the other guys."

Jacen strode around to help Jaina off the floor, or at least get most of her body onto the couch, while she continued to orate about their families, even as her head kept dropping onto her chest. Clearly, this was past her limit.

"And Ben's Dad's our Mom's brother... and he got married to our Aunt, and they had Ben..."

"Wait, Mom was you guys' Aunt?" Ben asked, with the same confusion that any stranger might have upon entering the scene. Jacen gestured for Ben to follow him to their assigned room.

"Oh, but of course – the hour is so late and the day will begin early tomorrow, perhaps I was wrong to encourage this discussion in the first place. Get you along to your repose." The CMC rose from her chair and ushered Ben from his spot on the couch, "I hope the morning will find you in more agreeable spirits and we can continue this enlightened train of thought. Oh, and Sieur Ben – the words you were looking for were 'genial' not 'general', 'Sir and Missus' refer to a married couple and not siblings, and your loyal escort is 'esteemed' not 'estranged'. Now, I must bid you goodnight, and a hope for peaceful dreams."

The door shut, and as Jacen heaved Jaina onto the mattress and Ben flopped onto the other half, pouting all the while, Jacen realized that the CMC had never really answered his question as to what the next day's events would be.

One final reason to not like this woman.

~.~.~

Jaina dreamed of red.

The red of fires, the red of suns, the red stripes on X-Wings, her father's eyes as they were red after Chewbacca, her Aunt Mara's red hair against the white materncenter pillow and her grey face, red blaster bolts and burns, her brother's skin red with fever and infection, and the red of blood. Blood on the floor, blood on her face, blood oozing from open, festering wounds, blood drying on cloth...

The smell – and the uncomfortable cramping in her midsection – woke her up, to the sensation of an alcohol headache throbbing in her temples, a counterpoint to the twisting in her abdomen.

Jaina made it to the 'fresher in time to realize that she didn't need to vomit. No, far worse – but at least it hadn't gotten through the outer layers of her clothes. She didn't want to think about how she'd explain it to Jacen or – god forbid – Ben, if they woke up and found a big bloody spot where she'd been sleeping.

And thus, Jaina Solo – the famed 'Sticks' of the Rogue Squadron, hero of the Jedi Order and Galactic Alliance of Planets, and the infamous impersonator of Yun-Harla the Trickster Goddess – found herself in the undesirable, undignified situation of being trapped in the 'fresher, lamenting the perils of poor planning for trips, and spouting off a string of swear words that, had she been in a more sober state of mind, she actually might have found terribly ironic to her predicament. The only small mercy she could think was that nobody was likely to be up at this hour and her brother and cousin would not bother her – she couldn't imagine any person who she'd like to see her less like this.

Someone knocked on the 'fresher door and Jaina heard a voice call her name. The CMC's voice.

Oh... joy...

"I'll be out in just a moment." She finally managed, even as she wondered how she was supposed to handle this.

"Did you need a Men-kit?" The door slid open, just a crack, and Jaina saw the CMC's tiny hand poke through with the proffered supply. A part of Jaina's nose wrinkled – a disposable one, which she had long ago sworn off considering that during any kind of prolonged assignment, constantly needing new supplies was a strain on resources – but since she was out of any options now, she wasn't going to say 'no'.

"Please." She answered, stretching her arm enough to take the kit and quickly setting up.

Ten minutes later, Jaina emerged from the 'fresher to find the CMC on the couch. The holo was turned on, the sound muted and the glow from the projector bathing the dark room in blue. The CMC herself was curled up, staring at the images and fiddling with the dial looking for something other than the babbling, non-Basic programs that seemed designed to put the viewers to sleep – after seeing her during the day, always impeccable in her dress, mannerisms, and speech, to see this strange woman in just a white nightgown, watching the holovid and eating what looked like a delivery saucy-cheese bread...

Jaina flopped down next to her, putting down the box the CMC had handed her.

Uncomfortable with the silence, she said, "...Couldn't use the medicine – you're not s'posed to take them with any alcohol blood levels."

"'Sokay." The CMC responded, in a voice that, while Jaina recognized it as her speaking voice, was so flat and mechanical, she seemed almost a different person, entirely. This didn't even change as she spoke up to address the program she was watching, "C'mon, Fess – just tell Murca you love her already... Of course."

More than a little curious, Jaina turned to look at her. The CMC was slowly chewing on her food, staring at the holo as though mesmerized. With the white of her sleepwear and the blue of the projector, she almost looked as though she were glowing blue, and as though she were somehow projecting an aura of icy cold, and it made Jaina feel overheated and red, just looking at her.

"How'd you know I was in there?" She finally asked. The CMC shrugged.

"Not the first time." She said, nonchalantly, "Probably won't be the last."

Jaina didn't know what to make of this, but didn't have a chance to ask a new question before the queer lady gestured to her food.

"Wanna slice?" Again, her tone sounded less like a question and more like she was just stating something. Jaina was beginning to have doubts about this woman being Human, but took a piece and bit into the corner. Despite the smell – which was a wonderful combination of melted cheese and the herby, salty tang of sauce – Jaina felt the consistency of plaster in the crust and the toppings felt stale, cold, and gummy. It was only her memories of surviving on nutrition pellets and food paste during the war that stopped Jaina from spitting her mouthful out.

"This is awful." She declared, tossing the slice back into the delivery box. The CMC shrugged and picked up the already bitten slice with her other hand. The image it presented Jaina with was almost comical, especially in comparison to the enigma in the black and silver she normally posed as, "...What're you doing up at this hour?"

"Can't sleep. No – Suspra, don't listen to her, she's just faking it." The CMC answered, taking a bite straight from the piece of bread Jaina had discarded, despite having still half a slice left in her first hand, "You?"

Jaina turned her gaze from the CMC and to the holovid – between the various things the CMC had been saying to the viewer and the images that flitted across, she couldn't guess what was supposed to be going on. There weren't even any captions for dialogue across the bottom, so how this woman knew any of the characters' names... she must have seen it before.

"Maybe I wanted to watch this." She finally replied, sarcastically. The CMC made no reply to indicate that she'd heard. Oddly enough, Jaina wasn't sure if she was grateful that this stranger wouldn't pry into her excuses, or if Jaina wanted her to press, wanted someone to ask her what was wrong, "...You have nightmares?" Jaina finally managed, asking the question that she either wanted to avoid, or wanted asked of her.

Again, the CMC shrugged. Jaina could see her shoulders through the fabric of her gown – thin and bony.

"Used to, when I was a kid. Not anymore."

This, of course, Jaina could not let pass without comment.

"'When you were a kid'? You ARE a kid." She managed, considering that, just from the look of her, the CMC couldn't possibly be any older than her mid-teens – and THAT was assuming she was just a late bloomer with an extreme case of baby-face, from the width of her almond-shaped eyes to the shape of her cheeks.

"One-thousand, two-hundred, and sixty-two." The CMC stated, "It's yours, Milla – she's carrying YOUR child."

"One-thousand, two-hundred, and sixty-two?" Jaina asked, completely lost.

"How many years I've been alive." The CMC didn't even look away from the screen, "No, you'll blow your cover, Agent Rma'ka."

Jaina blinked.

"...Bullshit."

"It's the truth – look, the doctor's gonna propose, and if Agent Rma'ka says yes, she'll have to expose that she's secretly a spy from the opposing government, and if her cover is blown, the secret protection bomb they rigged in her brain will go off, and send a message to the government's headquarters, and they'll launch a weapon that will destroy the whole system." The CMC gestured to the holo. Jaina followed her gaze – from what she could tell, the two characters on the screen had been doing absolutely nothing but talk all the way through the scene – before shaking herself.

"What? No, bullshit you're one-thousand years old or whatever."

The CMC finished off both pieces of her saucy-cheese bread.

"I never said that."

Yes, you just did. "Yes, you just did."

"I said I'd been alive for one-thousand, two-hundred and sixty-two years. That's different from being one-thousand, two-hundred and sixty-two years old."

Jaina tried to work through that logic and found that it made her brain throb worse than any hangover.

"...What year were you born in?"

The CMC turned away from the holo and fixed her with a gaze that seemed sharper than any other Jaina had ever seen... except it was simultaneously monstrously bored.

"Seven years before the Battle of Yavin in the Imperial War." She answered, without even missing a beat, "...That's forty-one years ago, if you're trying to catch me with math."

Jaina could tell – she'd been about to point out the vast difference between a thousand and some years, and forty, nevermind that it would say something about this woman's ability to lie, or do simple arithmetic, or both, when the CMC had so helpfully pointed out the fallacy for her.

So, that left Jaina with the option of shrugging and realizing that she was not going to get a straight answer out of this woman.

"Right. Sorry I asked." She muttered, sounding probably more like her father than she could ever intend. The CMC shrugged, again.

"Usually, it's considered rude to ask a lady her age." She said in that bland tone of hers. Had her face already not been hot and red with the flush of alcohol, Jaina might have blushed at that – but, with the combination of lingering alcohol, sleepiness, and the steady throb in the pit of her abdomen, she was quite past the point of caring.

"Yeah, well... I'm rude." She finally muttered, before she could think the better of it, eyes blearily focused on the holo and watching the shapes of what appeared to be a same-sex pair of some species talking in apparent, heated tones.

"No, you're not." This statement made Jaina turn away, again, surprised. The CMC wasn't looking at her, still curled up against the armrest of the couch. This way, the shape of her body was more pronounced. Now Jaina could see the bones of her shoulders and back along the curve, the point of her knees, and the tiny nubs of feet that peeked out from under her hemline – were her feet that small, really, or were they just obscured by the skirt of her nightgown? "You're interesting. Always have been – I never know what you're going to do. It's made the years a little more bearable..."

Well... that was... something... Jaina continued to sit, completely bewildered as to what to make of that statement – whether this woman was hinting at them having met before (and a meeting Jaina had forgotten?) or if she was confessing to having spied on Jaina long before this encounter (when and how were Jaina's big questions, really) or if she was just talking about what she'd observed so far during Carnival (which circled back to spying...)

"I guess... I owe you that much..."

She sounded bashful. If, Jaina figured, it was possible to sound bashful while still using a complete monotone. Didn't that totally negate the monotone part? Or was Jaina just projecting what she thought she heard into the CMC's tone. Wait, no – not the point: Saying that she 'owed' Jaina something, as uncomfortable as that made Jaina – owing people, in her experience usually meant things like kisses or... not-kisses... regardless of how much she liked or didn't like the person who said she owed him, or political favors, or saving shots in the heat of battle...

...Well, okay, the last one, Jaina guessed she didn't mind comparing this to. So, if the CMC owed her, she might as well...

Jaina reached over and tugged up at the hem of the CMC's white nightdress. The CMC didn't even notice, as though she were completely deprived of any sensation that must have come from her skirt being lifted – or, perhaps she was completely uncaring that Jaina was staring at her bare legs and feet and...

"Sonuvabitch." Jaina heard herself muttering – they weren't just small, they were practically impossible for someone to have. If it weren't for the way her legs were stick-like and her ankles knots of bone that looked hideously skeletal under the skin, these feet would have almost looked like they simply couldn't be attached to the same pair of legs. How did she even STAND, let alone walk and keep her balance on legs like these, "Girl, what is WRONG with you?"

"We're back in that rude territory." The CMC commented.

"Like I said – I'm rude." Jaina retorted, lifting the CMC's skirt even higher to get a look at her knees – even those looked horrific and bony. Jaina would have continued pulling at the hemline – wondering just how much of the CMC's body was this skin-and-bones nightmare – but the woman grabbed her skirt and pushed it back down to her toes.

"Nothing's wrong with me." The CMC finally remarked, coolly.

"Bullshit." Jaina said, again, "No Human can have limbs like this and be considered healthy."

She knew – very rarely were kids in a warzone considered, in any way, "healthy".

"Maybe I'm not Human." The CMC retorted, if retort could be the proper word for someone who didn't have any emotional range in her voice. It made Jaina pause, but she couldn't quite bring herself to buy any argument that the CMC was non-Human. Every other measure, she had to be Human – she looked and sounded and acted like one – and there was no species Jaina could think of that was outwardly so similar to Human without being at least considered near-Human or a sub-species or at least mixed breed...

"Then what ARE you?" Jaina finally challenged. The look the CMC gave her was cold and unimpressed.

"I'm a Witch."

...Right. "Sorry I asked." And the both of them turned back to the holo, "What's the story?"

"Well, there's a couple stories all linked together – there's Fess and Murca, who are both in love with each other, but never spit it out, and all sorts of wacky hijinks ensue over them trying to figure out if the other one likes them or not, but then there's Murca's jealous, identical twin sister, who is trying to blackmail Suspra – who is secretly Fess's identical twin brother, but he was raised in an alternate dimension – and is trying to harness the power of his brother and Murca's love in order to create a power that will save the planet from invasion by monsters from the alternate dimension... and I think I already told you about the storyline with Agent Rma'ka and the doctor..."

Jaina blinked as the four characters on the screen all appeared to be sitting at a tapcaf, talking over drinks.

"...Seems a little elaborate..." She started.

"That's what I'm making up the story to be." The CMC shrugged, "Try it – it's a lot more entertaining."

So, what had started off as a horrible night turned into one that Jaina didn't recall ever having had before – sitting up until the sunrise, watching the holo with the CMC and the two of them constructing elaborate, horrifically cliched stories for the muted screen.

At some point, Jaina realized she must have dropped off to sleep again, because she awoke to the sound of Ben and the CMC talking, and when she opened her eyes and pulled the blanket down from where it had been tucked around her shoulders, the world was back to as it had been – with her little cousin bouncing with limitless energy, and the CMC distant and lovely and again all in black and silver, as though last night had been but a dream.

~.~.~

The day had started perfectly: Ben woke up and found Jaina asleep on the couch, with the Countess waiting in her usual chair and draped in a long, loose garment of black with a high waist and a long string of silver beads wrapped around her neck and wrists, they'd all managed a quick meal before investigating an exhibition in one of the nearer pavilions – there were demonstrations of holovids and games that drew most of Ben's attention, while his cousins spent most of their time reading the details on engines or blueprints on display from more design-savvy vendors – and when lunchtime rolled around, the four of them rejoined the Countess at the lobby of the hotel.

Ben spotted the CMC first – Jaina, for whatever reason, had been distracted whenever the subject of the CMC had come up over the day, while Jacen seemed so overly paranoid, it made him blind to where the woman was – and, spotting her brushing her cheek against that of a complete stranger's before waving the other lady away in a farewell, managed to creep across the lobby undetected until he grabbed her waist from behind.

Needless to say, the resulting shriek of surprise alerted Jacen and Jaina suitably to his position. Ben felt rather proud of himself for being so stealthy.

With everyone assembled (plus Threepio and the Countess's man, Whats-his-name) the group set off to the seats in a balcony seat from a restaurant – apparently, the crowds for this event were so big, there wasn't a building in the vicinity large enough to host them all. There was a table already set for four, and the square had a large platform erected, not at all unlike a stage. The only machinery on display seemed to be a large, square block not at all unlike a juicer or a presser.

"So..." Ben finally ventured, once everyone was seated and glasses of water poured, "...What is this, anyway?"

The CMC chuckled, low in her throat and eliciting shivers to creep their way up Ben's spine.

"Can you not guess?" She asked, in a tone that lacked her childish glee and was replaced instead with a much darker shade of humor. Ben tossed a look back over his shoulder, to see Jacen giving her a glare and Jaina looking as though someone had just pinched her on the back and then disappeared completely. Jacen was the first to register a guess.

"Offhand, I'd say it looks like some kind of a theatrical performance... not sure what the big block thing is for, though." But Ben could feel something coming off of Jacen – something that made Ben's ears hurt, for how sharp it sounded, like a high-pitched scream. It was as though he knew what the 'big block thing' was, but had never seen it in THIS light before, and couldn't work out why it was here...

"You said this was the finale for Carnival, right?" Ben asked, looking back down at how many people there were crowded into the square below, and how many seemed to be fighting to get a good view of the stage, "I'd say the only thing that could be the big highlight for anything would be fireworks... but it's too early."

And, to be honest, Ben wasn't sure he wanted to see fireworks so badly – there was enough noise as it was, with every decibel of sound seeming to be another needle wedging itself under Ben's fingernails, adding explosions to that would only make it worse, and then to think of everyone else's emotional reactions...

"The only time I've ever seen this many people show up for something, it was at your parents' wedding, Ben." Jaina spoke up, quietly. Again, there was that strange feeling coming off of her – the sensation of something rolling around in her stomach, sharp and hard, and discounting that Jaina had said something she'd had last night was bugging her, it felt intrusive and obnoxious and Ben couldn't understand why she was acting like everything was alright when it clearly wasn't.

The CMC let out another throaty chuckle, and again those shivers banished any other thoughts from Ben's mind.

"Weddings? Selle Jaina, whyever would one of those be cause for such celebration?" The Countess asked, turning to Jaina and with a grand gesture that, Ben noticed, for some reason drew his cousin's attention to the CMC's wrist and fingers. What was going ON with Jaina, today, anyway?

In any case, Jaina gave no reply, as though she was agreeing with the Countess in some weird way that Ben was missing because he was a kid. It was Jacen who spoke up.

"Weddings are great opportunities for celebration – everyone shows up, the couple exchanges vows, there's dancing, food, speeches... it's not too far-fetched." Ben guessed Jacen would know, seeing as how he and Jaina had already seen one.

"Actually, Master Jacen..." Threepio started, in a hesitant tone, only for Jacen to roll his eyes.

"Threepio, don't start on the political stuff." Which made the droid let out an affronted noise, and Ben all the more curious.

"What political stuff? Two people fall in love, so they have a wedding and get married, what's political about that?" He asked, sincerely confused. Threepio promptly turned, with the air of one all too happy to be a part of the conversation.

"Traditionally, Master Ben, marriages are often matched for the political advantages of two parties – especially for those in positions of influence, such as leaders or very public figures. Quite often, they're brokered to ensure trade deals, alliances, or..." Until Jacen cut Threepio off.

"Yeah, but those are rare and only go through in less advanced societies. They're not even legal in systems in the Galactic Alliance." And Jacen chugged his water with an air of finality. Ben wondered what he was so upset about.

The Countess continued to watch, again in that way that was somehow detached as though she bore no responsibility for starting the quarrel.

"Maybe this is a custom on Ord Mantell – where Carnival is the most popular time to get married, so they have one, big public ceremony for all the couples or..." Jaina started up again, then trailed off, "...I dunno – it was just an idea."

"But weddings happen every day." The Countess put in, once more, "...Executions, on the other hand..."

Everyone at the table froze. Ben felt that chill once more – this time, from both Jacen and Jaina, and it made him dizzy to feel how they both reacted so differently, once the initial shock passed, one with a flash of burning anger, and the other with a swirling sink into panic.

And then... and then, Ben didn't know how, but he became so acutely aware of the fact that, on all sides of the balcony, were other people. There were stands that had been erected so enough people could squeeze in to watch, other window seats from which Ben could hear and see and FEEL the other onlookers, even people standing on foot down by the stage, pushing and arguing and getting in each other's way as they crowded the platform – and how had Ben not noticed them doing so, as a way of being close enough that they thought they might be a part of the action? The sensation as though someone were pushing needles under his fingernails increased and Ben had to sit down as he felt almost a palpable pressure surrounding him.

"...You brought us... to an execution..." Jaina intoned. Ben turned away from the window and tried to prop himself up against the back of his seat, pretending nothing was wrong. Instead, he focused on his glass of water, and on the plate at his spot which had been somehow mysteriously covered with a small bowl of bright orange and blue soup.

"Why, I only brought you to a traditional part of the festivities – these happen every year, and there are far more that go on with less ceremony and ruckus, in this system and many, many others. Surely, you could not object-" The Countess started, only for Jacen to cut her off. Ben stared at the lines of blue and orange, how they swirled together, without even the hint of a blur between the lines.

"We DO object, that you just pushed us along, like we wouldn't have anything to say-" The beads of sweat on his glass started to slowly trickle down towards the table top. Ben's eyes followed their paths with a rapt fascination – anything to block out the noise and the dizziness, and especially that feeling, as though all these people around him were becoming a huge mass of water that threatened to pull him under in the current.

"Oh, but of course! I forgot you were unaccustomed to the proceedings – then, the fault truly is mine, for assuming you would know. How silly of me!" Even with the CMC's voice, Ben watched the ice in his water melt. It was the most peculiar proceeding – watching the shapes inside the water change and shift, and fade away, even as not a drop of it rose or fell.

"'Silly?' You tricked us into bringing Master Ben along – he's only barely eight years of age, and such a display would be unthinkable for any of this family!" Threepio's voice pierced through Ben's detachment and he tried to slide down in his chair, out of sight. He had been wondering when his name – and age – were going to crop up.

"That hardly seems any object – there are new mothers with their babes at their breasts, come to celebrate with the entire rest of the crowd. It would be partisan to exclude Sieur Ben from all the others." The Countess replied, in a tone as though she rather thought his cousins were demanding a great injustice from her. For his part, Ben was beginning to wish that things were a little more unfair and he WAS excluded. He wished he was anywhere but here – he wished he was back at home, sitting at dinner in uncomfortable silences with his parents, or weathering the unspoken disapproval of the Masters at his disappointing performance as a Jedi, or cooped in his room, constantly redoing the homework and lesson plans and hologames that he wasted his time on when there was nothing else to do.

Anywhere but right where he could almost smell the anger that was radiating from Jacen and Jaina – where he felt, just by sitting next to them, as though something were probing him from all his nerve points, or hear some inhuman, monstrous cries, like beasts chasing prey. Where he had surpassed the moment when sound was a sensation he heard, and rather became something he seemed to be seeing, like blotches of black and white spotting his vision.

And then, the valet with the scars under his eyes cleared his throat. Loudly.

The Countess turned, almost immediately.

"Are you quite alright, Gornash?" She asked. The valet looked up from where he had been pouring some hot, steaming drink into four cups and doctoring them, an almost innocent expression on his face.

"Yes, marm."

The Countess was quiet for a moment, then continued,

"...You do not disagree with what I have been saying, do you?"

"Oh no, marm." He replied, in a tone that seemed to suggest he was skilled at answering with exactly what the Countess wanted as an answer, while supplying her with the opportunity to appear self-correcting. Indeed, her next response was an indignant,

"Well, what was wrong with it?"

"It was a very succinct argument, marm." And he began to bring over the cups – tea, Ben recognized, though Jacen's and Jaina's very bright reds, Ben's a nearly transparent yellow, and the Countess's thick and milky. He also saw his cousins share a glance and felt their anger even, if not dissipate. He sat up and tried to drink from his cup, and was at least relieved to find that it really only smelled different from the water, rather than tasting too strongly of something apart from sugar.

"Out with it, Gornash – what did you not find suitable about anything I have said?" The Countess finally demanded, imperiously. The valet – Mister Gornash, Ben hoped he'd remember it, now – cleared his throat, again and finally spoke at length.

"It had occurred to me, marm, that considering the party to extend the invitation and the party whom accepted it are at odds as to the comfort with today's choice of activity, perhaps it might be prudent to recall the sensibility that holds 'The guest is correct', in terms of hospitality." And he finished by giving the Countess a pointed look with a raised eyebrow that could have matched Jacen and Jaina in terms of secret communications.

In any case, the Countess did seem to relent, and in the next few minutes, transparisteel doors had extended and wrapped their spot on the balcony into a little sphere completely separated from the noise and the ruckus and, for all intents and purposes, the rest of the galaxy entirely.

Ben stared into his tea and shuddered with the realization that it did nothing to lessen the assault on his senses – all the emotions from the crowd seemed every bit as crystal clear to him as the noise had been with the windows open. Worse, the enclosure of the space felt as though it were compressing every sensation, until the air almost felt so thick that he might very well have been drowning. He kept his fingers tightly clasped around his cup.

"Well, with that cleared up, is there anything we might care to do while we dine?" The Countess finally suggested, in a jovial mood that was a stark contrast to what he could feel from his cousins. It was a task to keep his gaze focused on his cup and pretend he wasn't there, while Jacen and Jaina kept their argument up.

"'Cleared up'? How is this CLEARED UP? Two people are still going to be executed in front of everyone else, down there!" Jaina shouted, standing up and slamming her hands on the table.

"But I didn't do anything – I'm begging you, please, let me live! Even if I'm kept in a cell for the rest of my life I don't care! Please believe me, I'm innocent!" Ben could hear the screams of the prisoners through the transparisteel – there must have been microphones and speakers in the system, somewhere – and it sent his stomach straight down to his toes. The man's voice was hoarse – it was as though he hadn't had water for years, even if he'd only been imprisoned for a number of days. Ben chugged his water and tea, and even then could swear that he felt the same hoarseness in his throat.

"You had no quarrel with that last night – nor, I should say, this morning." The Countess objected.

The crowd began to throw things at him, in all shapes and sizing, ranging from empty cans of food, to knives, to insults and obscenities.

"We didn't KNOW this morning." Jacen snapped. Ben closed his eyes and let his hands down to clutch at the seat of his chair, as though he would float up and away if he didn't keep a firm grasp on something grounded.

"Forgive me." The Countess replied, and she was so very good at sounding so completely innocent, so devoid of any irony or facetiousness, "I was not aware that the determining factor was your awareness. I would have alerted you months ago, when the decision was likely passed down by the judges here, so we might have time..."

Ben felt his insides squirm. Then, the second man started to shout.

"Oh, that's how ya wanna be then, eh? All you holier than thou bastards can go ta HELL – YA HEAR ME! I'll be shakin' yer hands when ya get there! Hah! HOW'DYA LIKE THAT! Come on, now live it up, all'ya bastards! Hah hah haah! C'mon! We're dyin' fer ya up here – I wanna see some happy faces! Go on! An' all'ya can kiss my ass, too!" He shouted, jeering and dancing in a profane manner.

"That's not the point!" Jacen kept snapping, in a tone that Ben usually heard from other Masters in the Temple, usually when he did something wrong, not realizing what he'd done, and usually followed by 'Don't give me that look/tone'.

"The point?" The Countess asked, looking genuinely confused. If he'd been in a more aware state of mind, Ben would have wondered if it was a good thing or bad thing that he couldn't feel her the same way he could his cousins – their anger was already making him feel dizzy, and he knew that being able to feel whatever the Countess was would only make it worse. On the other hand, he had absolutely no idea what she WAS thinking, or how much was sincere and how much was an act, or even if such a difference was possible to her... "Please enlighten me – I cannot read minds!"

"You are being DELIBERATELY obtuse!" Jaina snarled at her, and the Countess' lightly dealt protests of innocence dropped into a scowl.

"Selle Jaina, I am trying to be reasonable – if, perhaps, we could refrain from ad hominem attacks..."

"Are you cold, Sieur Ben?" The soothing voice of Mister Gornash shook him out of his funk to realize that he'd been shivering. And, quite abruptly, the shouting between his cousins and the Countess came to a halt, and each pair of eyes had turned on him – he could tell, even though he was staring at the table, from the pressure that came, as though each of their gazes was pressing on him with their full weight.

Ben wished that he could sink into the floor, and pretend he wasn't there.

"...No... 'mfine..." He mumbled. And then, took a spoonful of the now stone-cold soup which no one else at the table had touched, either, just to show how fine he was. He even managed to ignore the stares Jaina and Jacen were giving him – the Countess, meanwhile, had turned back to her tea.

"Perhaps a few hands of cards?" She asked, as though nothing out of the ordinary had passed over the table, "They do say that a journey is incomplete until the travelers have played sabacc on their way."

As though to demonstrate that point, she revealed a deck and unceremoniously passed them to Threepio, as though to intend it would be the dealer. Ben slurped on his soup, pretending that he was completely unconcerned with the discussion – maybe it was best that it had gone cold, because the parts of it that were orange burned with spicy heat, and the blue lines were salty and tangy, and altogether made his throat ache for water. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was supposed to be very good, but it took every ounce of his willpower to keep lifting the spoon and swallowing each rapidly solidifying, creamy mouthful. He only glanced up to see Jaina scowl at the Countess – Jacen looked pacified, for some reason.

"That's not a real saying." Jaina pointed out. Ben wondered what it was that had been bothering her all day.

"Oh, I am sure that it is a saying, somewhere – after all, sabacc is the most popular game out there, and in the stories, everyone who plays a hand has a better measure of their companions by the end of the round. Surely, betwixt a few friends, a game would do no harm, save for some lost hands."

Jaina made to stand up, but not with the anger or haste that she had moments before.

"I'm sure it wouldn't – but there's more serious things going on, and we have a duty to stop them." She made as though to leave, but Jacen put a hand on her wrist.

"No – she had a point earlier." Jacen's voice was level and steady, but Ben's ears still rang as though Jacen were shouting and grinding his teeth, "This is a part of the culture here, and we have no place to interfere – if we did now, it would only make things worse."

Even Jaina stared at Jacen, as though she were attempting to communicate through their twin-talk that Ben had never really understood, that Jacen had only just said most the exact opposite of that. Ben kept his gaze focused on his water, telling himself that the occasional flashes of red and black that he saw in the swirling shapes of the melting ice came from the surrounding room and everyone's clothing, even though he felt stabs like something was puncturing its way under his skin and into his flesh and...

"Exactly – and even if you could petition a referendum and have these two gentlemen spared, they would only select the next from a list. Surely, you do not expect to completely overturn their capital punishment policy within a matter of minutes?" The Countess added, as Ben watched his water shift, over and over, like a scrying glass, filling his mind with thoughts of anger and vengeance, of the kind of searing pain that left the flesh rent and hanging by threads from the bone, of the repeated oaths that sat in the stomach like a burning coal and would not be cooled except with blood, of resignation and hot and teeth and moons and stars and anakin and...

"Spider-prawn legs, marm?" A tray seemed to appear out of nowhere on the table, as the valet set it down. The spiny, blue-green shells of the prawns stuck up from the center of the arrangement, like unfolding leaves of a hideous flower, revealing a dish of mustard and saffron sauce. It smelled of things rich and succulent, and undoubtedly was comprised of the finest delicacy ingredients this side of the Dune Sea, and just looking at it made Ben's stomach turn, and when he took another gulp of water, even that seemed to taste the way the legs smelled to him at that moment.

As for the adults, even Ben could tell their surprise, both pleasant and unpleasant, and managed to hear the Countess protest.

"I scarcely recall ordering even the soup – however did THIS make its way to our table?" As though the legs had fried themselves and then individually walked to the tray.

"Compliments of the house, marm – I believe when they heard of our guests' displeasure with the seats, they sought to make amends." Mister Valet – what was his name again – explained, still in that soothing voice that seemed to cut through the excess noise and sensation and Ben could at least tell where his feet were and that the chair he was in was firmly rooted to the floor.

The Countess's smile was, in turn, something that looked rather meant to keep reality steady, rather than to stir up a frenzy, as she noncommittally remarked.

"Well, now – perhaps it would be best to leave the debate for another time, one less charged with disturbances, as such passions do little good for the digestion. That game of cards – I am sure would be far better suited for keeping things to a more agreeable level." Without waiting for discussion, this time, the Countess extended the deck in Threepio's direction, "Surely, you can randomize these for us – we have no slider, and you would prove to be the most impartial of the occupants present, Sieur Threepio."

Almost immediately, Ben felt a spike of something from both of his cousins – something just as sharp and it felt like it was being driven into his skull with a hammer, but it was a relief from the turmoil, and the dizzy feelings that had been making Ben feel sick just moments before, and it provided a hook to reality that effectively silenced the buzzing from all around them.

"I most certainly could not – I am an interpreter, not..." Threepio began to protest, even as Jacen swatted the droid with a napkin.

The Countess insisted and, in the end, Threepio randomized the cards and dealt three to each of the humans, refusing to take part in the game.

"Will that be all, marm?" Mister Valet asked, looking into each of their faces. Ben kept his gaze firmly on his cards and prayed that the valet didn't bring up how well or unwell he appeared.

"Oh, I should think..." The Countess began, even as Jaina interrupted.

"No." She held up her empty glass of water, "Clean Spring, straight, no chaser."

Ben didn't understand quite what that meant, but he could see Jacen giving Jaina a raised eyebrow. If it really was so unusual to the Countess and her man, neither of them commented, except for Mister Valet to take the empty glass with a thin smile and a, "Certainly, Miss."

And, from there, the table quieted as the game began.

Ben glared at his cards, attempting to banish the noise from below and block the memory of the condemned men's speeches.

He'd been dealt The Idiot, The Crumbled Foundation, and The Six Flasks. He knew very little about sabacc, but he had the sneaking suspicion that he'd just been dealt a crappy hand. In any case, he had an excuse to ignore the food and the churning in his stomach – and to gulp down more water – as he examined the pictures. It was unlike any deck he'd ever seen, without the simple, black and white designs, but each card with a different style of image. The Idiot was done in bright, bold colors, not unlike something in one of the stories intended for him when he'd been much younger, still learning animal names and noises. But what was he supposed to do with The Crumbled Foundation, whose image was in swirled, despairing grays and browns and blues – all kinds of shadow that he hadn't thought was possible to show in different colors – and the image was barely even discernible as the typical image of a toppling tower. Just touching the cards seemed to clear out the other thoughts or sensations that had been clouding his head, as though they were drawing his concentration into a single fixed point.

As the Countess laid her hand down, all could see that she held The Three Sabres, The Seven Sabres, and Demise. All were negative. Without even seeing what the others had, all three voiced loud protestations of disappointment, even as they set down their own hands. Jaina had been dealt negative cards too: Endurance, The Eleven Staves, and Sun. Jacen's hand had held The Pod, a negative Nine Staves, and The Ruler.

"You know, if Threepio hadn't dealt them, I would almost swear you rigged the game." Jaina mumbled, looking distastefully at her hand, well over twenty-three, and gulping down the glass of almost water-colored drink that she'd been brought. The Countess giggled, making a girlish gesture with her hand.

"Selle Jaina, surely you jest. But if it is any consolation, this is meant to be sport, not gambling." The Countess noted, with a shrug. Everyone put their cards back, opted for another round. Jaina opted for another drink. Each hand ran its course with a feeling in the air that seemed as though the seconds were dragging, with little talking or even tension over the waiting to see how long a bluff might carry. Whatever the intentions of starting the game might have been, they were not working.

The hands kept coming. Ben noticed at one point that the food hadn't even been touched, though Jaina's glass kept emptying and filling again. About the only words Ben heard spoken over the game were Jacen's,

"What happened to not drinking today?" And Jaina's eloquent reply,

"Shut up."

The tense hands continued, until a final round was dealt. This time, Ben found himself with The Evil One, The Teacher, and The Mistress of Sabres. He quickly called and this time saw Jacen with The Crumbling Foundation, The Satellite, and The Master of Sabres; the Countess with Balance, Judgement, and The Queen of Air and Darkness; Jaina with The Two Sabres, The Seven Staves, and The Commander of Cups.

"It would seem that Sieur Ben has very well won this round..." The Countess mused, and while she did not sound displeased or upset, at the same time, her statement didn't sound like praise. Jaina cackled and reached around to clap him on the back, nearly sending him face-first into his plate.

"Keep that up – jus' wait'll Dad hears 'bout this!" She agreed, cheerfully. Jacen was giving his hand a look from across the table, also heartily approving of Ben's luck. After the last half-hour of polite silence and distressed false distraction, Ben wished that this little moment would have felt more like a relief, to hear his cousins a little more enthused about the game. Instead, their smiles just made the icy feeling inside him slide further into his stomach, like the failed dish that nobody threw away, and just pushed further and further into the back of the cooler, not noticing as it spoiled.

Ben looked back out to the square, frowning slightly, as the man who was still sneering at the angered crowd was dragged towards the presser.

"It looks like they're both about to be executed." He mumbled, not noticing that none of the adults followed his gaze.

As soon as the words had passed his lips, a person in the same dress as the executioners came bustling through the crowd, breaking the ranks of the soldiers on guard, who let him pass, and coming to a halt before the other executioners, holding a red disc. The prosecutors read what was on it in a conference, before a bell was rung.

"A pardon has been issued by the Grand Inquisitor! The man to be pardoned shall be Briar Spina!"

Cheers rose from the crowd as the man who had jeered and boasted at the crowd was released from his binders and the device.

"YEAH!" He could be heard, shouting and dancing with manic glee, waving to the crowd as though accepting an honor, "Thank you, thank you! May his Excellency, the Grand Inquisitor, have a long, prosperous life! HA HA HA!"

"You okay?" Jaina's hand was on his shoulder, and in less than a split-second, Ben felt every ounce of boiling fury and despair, regret and bloodlust, the head-turning release that made even that little touch feel like Jaina was somehow trying to smother him. He pushed away, and still could feel that... whatever it was he'd felt, but at least it was muted. Only then did Jaina look over her shoulder, back out to the scene below them.

"Oh, a pardon!" The Countess remarked, in a glee-like sort of voice, "There, that is a little better, is it not?"

Jaina slowly turned to glance at the Countess's face, and caught a glimpse of her gray eyes flashing, as though they were liquid pools of molten silver.

"WHAT? HOW?! WHY? WHY DOES HE GO FREE, WHILE I'M LEFT HERE TO DIE? A CRIMINAL ESCAPES AND AN INNOCENT MAN IS TO BE SQUEEZED LIKE FRUIT?! WHAT JUSTICE IS THIS?!" The other man was shrieking, a shrill noise which pierced the air.

"I guess." Jaina agreed, her face blank but Ben could feel the rolling waves of mollified discontent, "…Still the principle of the thing…"

The crowd started boo-ing again, and the other man finally went into hysterics.

"DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU, YOU BASTARD! YOU SAID WE WOULD DIE TOGETHER! THIS ISN'T RIGHT! THIS ISN'T FAIR! GET BACK UP HERE! BASTARD! BASTARD! SON OF A BITCH!" And, almost in an instant, the man who had been crying and begging for mercy, professing his innocence, had transformed into a wild, rabid creature. His eyes were bulging with tears, but also with boiling rage, his face red and lined with creases like the stretched gaunt of a corpse, saliva spraying from his mouth like foam, mucus streaming down from his nose and onto his lips… "GET BACK HERE! YOU SAID WE WOULD DIE TOGETHER IF WE WERE CAUGHT, DAMN YOU! BASTARD! TRAITOR! LIAR!"

"That was a little too convenient." Jacen muttered, "They would have had to time that really close…"

"Perhaps they did – can you truly say you blame them for wanting to put on a show for the audience?" The Countess asked, "After all, we all would want our money's worth, and a little last minute drama is always a good lark."

The man was restrained and yanked back to the presser, his arms and legs quickly strapped against the back and a large bowl being placed beneath his feet. The jeering from the crowd was quickly turning into a loud chant calling for his death.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

Ben felt his mouth hanging open, a numbness spreading on his skin. Morbid fascination fixed his gaze to the spectacle and horror paralyzed his throat in an unspoken scream, as everything he'd felt in the hours before – every stab of needle-like screaming, every tug at his insides that made him want to retch, every pulsing beat that made him aware of the blood coursing in his veins and felt as though he could tell the exact point where he would surely explode and every drop would go rushing out until he was a dried out husk... all of that – it was nothing compared to this moment, as it all melded together inside him, as Ben felt the 'Him' vanish and replaced by 'Them'.

"KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!KILL!"

The presser fell.

~.~.~

Ben came back to his senses with someone gently shaking him and his name being called. His vision went from black, to fuzzy, to finally being able to focus enough to see Jaina gripping his shoulders, Jacen standing off to the side with a hand on HER shoulder, and the Countess standing apart and apparently soaking napkins with water from their glasses.

"…Really is a very poor idea to shake someone who is unwell." She was saying, bringing one to his forehead. A smell came to his nose - sickly sweet, and choking – like it was puncturing his sinuses and making his head swim, just a little.

"You could call for a medic, if you're so smart." Jacen pointed out. And then, Ben groaned – more in consternation that he couldn't tell what was going on, that he felt so hollow, that he had no sensation in his middle to tell him what was going through Jacen or Jaina's minds… Even when Jaina jumped and pulled him into a smothering hug, Ben couldn't feel anything, but the uncomfortable pressure of her arms almost crushing his shoulders and found himself flailing and howling to be released.

As he looked back over his shoulder, the only thing that lay testament to the scene that had happened however long ago was a circle of blood, as though the bowl had leaked, on the ground. Ben felt his hands clench, fingernails digging into his palms, before a voice roused him.

"Ben." Ben turned back to see that his cousins and Threepio all staring at him. The only person whom was not focused on him was Mister Gornash, and he was pouring everyone drinks.

"Would anyone care for some dark-caf?" He abruptly asked, prompting everyone but the Countess to jump – Ben would swear, even after the sight, that he saw Threepio do it – before Jaina turned to him and started shouting.

"What is WRONG with you? You couldn't pick a MORE inappropriate moment to do that?"

Honestly, Ben didn't find it too inappropriate – he'd been wondering what he could do to get his cousins not to look at him like that. It certainly did the trick, as Jacen also turned to scowl at the inordinately tall valet, as though holding a tray of caf was some disgusting crime. Threepio, of course, began to stammer about proper manners and etiquette for after-dinner caf, and was ignored all around.

"I hesitate to contradict you, Miss." Mister Gornash remarked with his eyebrows raised, "I merely noted with some concern the number of much more potent drinks imbibed by members of this party, and hoped that something more stimulating would improve the quality of the night."

Ben pushed away from the Countess and surreptitiously took his seat, even as Jacen and Jaina continued to grouse at Mister Gornash about his supposed tact and timing. And then, almost immediately, stood right back up, as though the seat had shocked him.

"Sieur Ben, are you well?" The Countess had her hand on his wrist before he realized she'd moved. He looked at her, intent on saying he was fine, and when he opened his mouth, the words would not come. Perhaps it was something in the Countess' eyes – and they were so round, and so brightly gray – but he looked away as soon as he could. Her fingers loosened their grip almost immediately, "...Perhaps if we returned to the hotel – I'm sure a lie-down would do you some good."

"No." That came out pretty sharply, and Ben regretted it almost immediately, "...'Sokay, just... 'fresher." He eased away from the table and towards the door, praying that the lavatory down the hall was completely empty.

"Oh, Master Ben, do wait – I shall accompany you." Threepio's tinny voice carried after him, even as Ben turned his back on everyone and bolted down the hall. Every step drew from the restless energy of sitting too long in a small, enclosed space, but he felt so drained that he only made it halfway before he slowed to a walk and allowed Threepio to catch up as he stepped up to a sink and splashed some cold water on his face. And then, of course, was sick into the waste chute next to the towels.

The 'fresher wasn't good enough – he needed air. He needed to get away from this place. Ben didn't waste a moment, nor spare Jacen or Jaina a thought as he headed down the stairs and for the streets.

~.~.~

"Master Ben, I can understand how upset you must be- after all, seeing someone killed in such a cruel and unusual way, especially after you've been told that killing isn't the way to solve things or that that manner of punishment is acceptable..." Threepio continued to fuss over his master's son as he followed Ben through the streets, which were still lit as bright as day.

"Threepio, please shut up." Ben snapped, coming to a halt, and immediately feeling guilty at how punctually Threepio had obeyed him.

He couldn't tell anybody why he was so disturbed by the experience. Not after listening to them argue about it, only to sit down and let it go. Not even the actual execution or the reasoning behind it. No, he remembered the rest of the crowd.

As the other man had been pressed so his blood squirted out, the crowd had been chanting, over and over, that horrible mantra of blood lust. And then, as their demand had been met, the jeering turned into cheering, all the people in the crowd laughing and celebrating as the man had been crushed to a painful and sickening death. He could still feel their cries, like a ball of ice stuck in his throat that sent a chill through the rest of his body.

And Ben would admit, if the accused man had been a truly horrible criminal as said, maybe he deserved to die – he didn't know, he guessed, but maybe the grown-ups had known something he didn't - but did that justify the crowd's reaction to it? To cheer and applaud as a man died in a nasty way such as that... To find such joy in feeling another person's life snuffed out… To celebrate something so grotesque and horrible… How could any person behave in such a way when there was blood being shed - when the person who was being wrung for blood like a fruit for its nectar was shrieking and crying? The arguments of the Countess came back, and maybe there was nothing they could have done but... couldn't the crowd show a little courtesy? Remain at least a little restrained as the execution was carried out? At least wait until the execution was finished to applaud and celebrate? Or would she say the same thing about their reception as she had the execution…?

A projectile from above landed on Ben's head, then into his hands as he passed underneath a pedestrian bridge that went over the street. It was a pair of organic white flowerettes, which drew Ben's gaze upward, searching for whom had thrown them, to see the same white-haired girl that had thrown him the flower-candles a few days ago in the parade. She was leaning on the railing before, as Ben waved to her, she waved back and came down the ramp to meet him.

Up close, she only appeared to be barely even a year older than himself. Her pale cheeks were round, but full, and came to a narrow point of a fair chin. The hair on her head was pure white, little ringlets framing her face while the rest of it hung down in the back in long, thick curled rolls, held together by a scarf that covered all of her scalp and tied underneath her hair. Her skin was so pale that Ben could practically see the blue of her veins tinging it. In fact, all the white to her – even her clothes were white, with the sole exception being the cord around her waist, holding her skirt up in a bunch around her waist – made Ben feel like she'd stepped out of a holo, not just from down the steps. And her eyes...

Her eyes shone green – not a natural green, either, like his mother's eyes, the color of moss or fading grass stains, but a bright, electrifying color – and they glittered and danced in the light of the lamps, and Ben realized there could only be a hair's breadth between their height, for those eyes were looking directly into his. It took what felt like a full minute before Ben realized he was staring.

In the silence, the girl lifted her hands and... and… and, well, the best Ben could think was she was using her fingers with some purpose, in a way that looked much like a code, or a practiced series of movements that obviously had meaning, even if he couldn't tell what it was.

"Master Ben, it appears she is trying to communicate with you." Threepio chimed in. The girl's hands paused as she spared a glance in Threepio's direction, then back to Ben as though to say 'Do you always need someone around to point out the obvious to you?'

"Thanks, Threepio." Ben agreed, not without a touch of irony to his voice.

"Oh, you are quite welcome, Young Master Ben." Threepio agreed, and then continued, "And she remembers you from the parade and wishes to know what your name is."

Ben would have rolled his eyes, except he'd been having difficulty understanding what the girl had been attempting to get across, only being able to pick out a few letters like 'yirt', 'cresh' and 'isk'.

"Ben. My name is Ben Skywalker." He replied, bowing his head a little. The girl frowned a little, but then shrugged her shoulders and began to spell again. This time, Ben recognized the letters perfectly.

J... A… C... C... I...

"Jacci... Is that your name?" Ben asked. Jacci paused, blinked in surprise, then confusion, then excitement. Her reply could be mistaken, therefore, for nothing but a 'yes' when her hand formed a fist that she bobbed up and down, mimicking her nodding head.

And then, she held out her hand, as though she expected to find something to grip.

"...You want me to accompany you for the rest of carnival?" Ben asked, clarifying, and Jacci's eyes lit up again as she and her hand nodded again, as though delighted that he could understand her. With a smile, Ben took her hand, and gave it a small squeeze, letting her draw him through the crowds.

There wasn't anything particular about her – sure, her coloration was eccentric, and her silence, unique, but really, Ben might have lost her in the crowd if he were depending on sight alone. But something about her presence was something that Ben had never conceived of before. It was the kind of familiarity of a sister, the guidance of a sibling who was older, but not TOO much older – not the way Jacen and Jaina were – but she also held him by her side, as though she was really a peer of his own age. What was it?

Then, Jacci cast him a glance – one that reminded Ben in no small way of the Countess' queer mannerisms – and grinned, pulling him towards a lane of stalls and booths, and their night began in earnest.

The first order of business was to visit the food stalls. Between the two of them, Ben and Jacci had enough pocket money to binge on all the sweets and salt their little hearts could desire. In the first few stops, there were plenty of treats that Ben had never seen before, from sugared fry-balls with sticky, chewy centers, to sausages stuffed with meat and gravy that hung, still sizzling and dripping fat, on sticks over the grills. There were vendors calling out that their wares were "Two-for-one" and "Get 'em while they're hot" and Jacci kept breaking into silent giggles at some of the cheesy hawking lines – lines that Ben pointed out to her were heard all over the galaxy, even as she evinced delight as though she had never heard them before.

Somewhere after the first line of stalls, it occurred to Ben that the lump that had been firmly nestled between his stomach and his heart no longer seemed there – or, when he thought about it, it felt smaller, softer, as though every mouthful of molten chocolate or hot dipper sauce had taken a little bit of that feeling away.

He couldn't even tell when he really noticed that it was gone, completely – maybe the moment when they stopped by a Chadra-Fan vendor touting Levi-Boots and offering them to give them a test run and Jacci promptly took a jump and accidentally landed on the table too hard and the two of them had to run before the vendor could make them clean it up.

Or maybe the moment that Threepio groused about the health effects of eating a nearly half a kilo of Sugar Bubbles in one sitting and those effects had included the word 'Formication' and could Ben really be blamed for finding just the way a protocol droid said that word to be the height of hilarity and promptly spat out the liquefied candies he'd managed to stuff his cheeks with and all of the differently colored drops practically painted the pavement and left stains all down his and Jacci's clothes.

Or was it at the vendor who was hawking jewelry – "The finest of rare metals this side of the Dune Sea, usually cost a few hundred thousand credits just for one piece – I'm not even supposed to have these on display – I'm letting go of them for just five thousand" he said, face-tentacles quivering – before Ben pointed out that if they were really precious metals, why hadn't everyone already bought them, and Jacci told him they couldn't be, because she'd seen someone work with gold once and it was a totally different color than the bracelets and the vendor turned blue with anger and started to chase them off until a security droid came over and informed him that yelling at children was 'Inappropriate' and 'He had to leave'. Jacci ended up buying a whole case of bangles from a different vendor, each wire-thin and speckled with flecks of colored beads and they made a glass-like, tingling noise when they shook the box.

Or maybe their visit to a stand that sold cups, barely more than a spoonful, of soups – Ben assumed they were all soups despite each little serving holding nothing but clear liquid, because each mouthful burned his throat and made his insides tingle with warmth – which made him and Jacci spin and cackle and have to hold onto each other for support as they shambled their way to the games and souvenir merchants.

Or maybe it was the moment when he and Jacci, having found a set up for music performers, started trying to imitate the dancing they saw the adults doing, more frequently than not resulting in one of them slipping, stepping on the other's feet, and their heads colliding. That particular incident ended with their noses pressed flat against each other and they spent the next ten minutes staring firmly at each other's shoes – Ben's worn, soft-soled brown floppers, and Jacci's as shiny, shapely, and swirled white and pink as a peppermint candy – while they tried not to meet the other's eyes.

Ben continued to steal glances at her, mostly ignoring Threepio babbling in the background about going off with strangers - Threepio was still with him, so he hadn't gone off with a stranger, had he - before he chose to look at the precise same moment that she apparently did. She sent him a single gesture with her hand – one which Ben couldn't possibly mistake for asking 'Are you okay' and his only response was 'I'm fine.'

Jacci's face lit up – and not with mere joy, but ecstasy, like a child who had lost their pet baby animal only to have it come jumping back into her arms, or a small child that had been separated from her sibling and was finding him after a long, painful search. Her arms went around Ben's shoulders – and by default his neck, making the gesture feel much more like an attempted assassination - pulling him into a tight embrace, pressing kisses all over his forehead, eyelids, hair, nose, and cheeks with some kind of exuberant relief. If Ben hadn't had a pleasant, rumbling feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, he would have pushed her away and politely said that she was mistaking him for someone else.

...But something told him that she wasn't... that he was, actually, the very person she had been looking for, whoever that was... Was that, perhaps, the Force? Ben shuddered to think so – he sincerely doubted it, as it was more of an inner sense, than the feeling of someone whispering in his ear the way the Force tended to feel like...

Jacci's hand gripped tightly around his, and she pulled him out of the crowd into an unlit end of the street, her fingers telling him that she wanted to talk without being interrupted.

'Fat chance, with Threepio here.' Ben told her, and her fingers wiggled as though she were laughing. Out of the eyes of other people, they sat and started to talk, in this new language which didn't need any words.

They discussed their interests, their family, their friends, and their education. Jacci told about how her parents had died before she'd even been born and how her 'Big Stranger' had been the person to actually raise her. Ben had watched, then told her about his parents, his place – or lack thereof – in the Jedi Order, how he and his cousins were here on a trip, and how his Aunt and Uncle had been around him more as a baby than his parents. Jacci told him about her Aunts and Uncles – her fingers first spelling their names, and then other signs, like she had translated what those names meant into words for her own finger-talk: 'Auntie Haid' was 'Long-hair harp' and 'Uncle Tilus' was 'Ball'. Ben wished he had names like that for his family, but then Jacci showed her name for him – 'Fire-bird' because of his hair, and she thought his laugh sounded like a bird flapping its wings – and after that, Ben wasn't about to be outdone and tried thinking up sign-names for Jaina and Jacen and Aunt Leia and Uncle Han.

They debated the relative merits of food – Jacci found the treats of the night an interesting diversion, but shared that her 'Uncle Eye-Lines' made far better food and it never made her feel sick from eating too much, and Ben argued that, no matter how good the homemade food, more sugar was always good, and that's why the nut-and-chocolate candy flavored rolls were better than the ones with the sugar glaze and peppermint filling. They compared their favorite characters – Ben's being a fluffy leporine kind of animal who used to train heroes, and Jacci's, someone called Marvelous Woman and Ben had never heard of, but Jacci hadn't heard of Ben's either, so they were even. They even competed to see who could list the most obscure words that their parents probably didn't know they'd learned – Jacci beat with a sign that involved her pantomiming grabbing her eyes, and then spinning them about her head, which she said meant 'Interesting in a way that seems insignificant at first, and later provides insight in a life-changing event.'

It was odd, but he seemed to have a closer resemblance to her than he'd thought at first – their interest in stories with pictures, the foods which they liked were similar, the nightmares they had about being kept in their families, away from anyone else, in both space and time... If Ben hadn't known any better, he could have sworn she was related to him.

"Master Ben, I DO protest – behavior like this is extremely inappropriate, and at your age, too! Why, you don't even know this girl – she could be and accomplice for a bandit gang leading you into a trap! Furthermore..." Threepio interrupted the moment, and fussed. Ben didn't notice – lumbering up behind the droid were three tall, enormous men, staring right at the both of them.

"Hey there, young'uns." Jacci made a grab for Ben's hand and made to pull him away, except they backed into two other grown-ups, towering over them, "Yer folks know where you are?"

~.~.~

Jacen and Jaina weren't particularly surprised that, when Threepio returned, he was erratically frantic. Instead, the twin's attention was drawn by the lack of their cousin with the droid. With this in mind, the two confronted the poor protocol, whom was already upset enough that he couldn't properly defend himself against the abuse.

"Threepio, where's Ben?" The sister demanded, as the droid's arms flailed.

"You followed him to the 'fresher and he disappeared a few hours ago – what did you do with him?" Jacen continued in an accusing tone.

"It's not my fault – please, you must believe me! Master Ben wandered off with a strange girl and the two of them were kidnapped! I WARNED him something like this would happen; why does nobody ever listen to me about these things?" Threepio lamented, only to be ignored as the siblings exchanged a look.

"If you saw this, why'd they let you go?" Jaina demanded, grabbing Threepio by the neck joint, even as Jacen opened his mouth to protest – maybe those drinks at lunch had REALLY been a mistake.

"I cannot say – I was able to follow them to a club, but oh... what they must be doing, I don't want to think..." Threepio stammered.

"Don't say it!" Jaina shouted, dropping Threepio before her hands flew to her head, already throbbing with just her own shouting, "Alright... okay... alright, calming down... This is simple to deal with – we just need to search the city, find them, find Ben, kill the kidnappers and..." Before Threepio interrupted again.

"They did ask if I was acquainted with the CMC." And if that was what they wanted, then...

Jacen's face warped, with a kind of disgusted recognition.

"Don't tell me..." He muttered, before Jaina brutally brought her brother back to his senses.

"Then we need to contact Mom and Dad, tell them that –" Her voice choked, just for a moment, "...That Ben was kidnapped, say we need to borrow money, and pay them back when we get back home." Jaina said, in a relatively calm voice, not at all altered by the fact that she was beginning to lean heavily on the door and Jacen had to keep her up and try to follow her train of thought.

"A-actually..." Threepio stammered, as though fearing for its existence – reasonable, considering that Jacen was giving it a look that said he would draw his lightsaber and cleave the droid in half if it gave them anymore bad news, "They told me to bring her Excellency to where they'd brought Master Ben... and, I should mention..."

"Did you tell them you'd bring authorities?" Jaina asked, as though knowing the answer, and sure enough, Threepio nodded. Jacen brought a hand up to his face to restrain himself from the aggravated sigh Jaina let out, "Threepio... why?"

"I'm going to assume their response was more of a 'See what happens if you do' than a 'That's perfectly acceptable'?" Jacen asked. Again, Threepio nodded.

Jaina thought for a moment longer, still leaning on the door and heavily against Jacen's grip, before she finally pulled the door open. These kidnappers wanted the CMC? Then, the CMC, they would get, damn it all, if they had to go back out and comb the whole city to find her. Jacen watched his sister go stumbling for her boots and try to put each one on the wrong foot before calmly walking over to the CMC's door and knocking.

The door slid open and surprised both the Solo twins with Her Excellency standing inside, her shoes off, laces on her bodice undone, and hair starting to fray out of its prim and proper bun.

"Oh, 'tis you." She said, disappointedly, "I cannot be bothered with a visit now – something of dire urgency has come to my attention and I must be off to –" She turned to shut the door, except Jaina, awakened from her stupor and not entirely sure on her feet at the moment, rushed towards the door and stuck her arm through just as it closed.

The CMC flung it back open and nearly recoiled as Jacen strode into the room after her.

"…Where is Sieur Ben? Did you not fetch him after you departed this afternoon?"

Jaina hung onto the doorway frame and watched Jacen back the CMC into the wall. Well, maybe he wasn't really – the CMC was just really keeping some distance between them; distance, and the room's bed, and pretty much anything like she thought Jacen would vault over it and pin her or something.

Weird.

"He's missing." Jacen said, simply.

If it was at all possible for the CMC – y'know, that same woman who'd just brought them to an execution right the kark out of nowhere, then sat there as her man poured her tea and served their food, THAT CMC, not the weird, normal one last night – to look like she lost even more of her composure, it came at that precise moment. Her arms dropped, and with them, the semblance that she'd been holding herself together.

"WHAT?" She shrieked. And now that Jaina saw even clearer, her shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, and – wow, how did she keep that waist in the corset... Wait, no, Ben was missing, and they needed this woman – apparently – to get him back.

"Wotcha'." Jaina jumped at the voice behind her. She saw Jacen jump. She hadn't known Jacen could do that, anymore.

The CMC was the only one who reacted to the speaker with any kind of calm.

"Yes, Ouduar, what is it, now?"

"Went 'nto a club – go'er wid'a lads." When Jaina looked over her shoulder at the speaker, she saw an inordinately skinny young man – the one who'd been sleeping on the sofa a couple nights ago – with something like goggles over his eyes, 'cept they would've been useless at keeping his eyes safe, and speaking with a thick Oussian accent. No, not just Oussian – lower class Oussian. Like, never been to school, grew up on the streets, probably couldn't spell his own name, lower class.

"What did it look like, this club? And whereabouts?" The CMC asked, still urgent but clearly no longer frazzled.

He shrugged.

"Near the Artist Alley inna vendors – next to tha fountain, no sign, ha' some ginger wid'em."

The CMC glanced between the young man, and Jaina and Jacen.

"...You said Sieur Ben was missing? I do not suppose that he might have been, say, abducted by some unsavory band...?"

Never before had Jaina been so aggravated to hear Threepio relate everything it had told them. She understood, now, her father's preference to just hit the switch and shut it down – each syllable in Threepio's tinny whine felt like a screw being driven into her head and eardrums at the same time.

Meanwhile, the CMC sat down on the edge of the room's mattress – Jaina didn't even see a wrinkle in the bedspread, from how the CMC was sitting.

"Oh. Oh... Oh, well... in that case... Selle Jaina, Seiur Jacen, please leave – I must dress."

Before Jacen could even turn back to her to at least demand an explanation – Jacen sure was being calm, but maybe he had something figured out that Jaina didn't – the valet chose to make his reappearance by putting a hand on each of their shoulders and firmly pushing them both out.

Only when they found themselves planted on the sofa, next to the Oussian boy who was flopped over the back with his feet in the air, did Jaina come to a realization of the absurdity in their situation.

"Ben's missing, we don't know where he is, and instead of going out there to look, we're sitting here, waiting for a crazy aristocrat lady to put her shoes on..." She announced, as though that would somehow make things clearer. It didn't.

"I fink Uncle Gornash is prol'ly helpen'er wid'a shoes, ach'lly." Their present company piped in.

Not helping. Jaina thought.

"Jes' be a momen', you lot'll be off." And then the door opened, and the CMC appeared, composed and practically perfect down to every last stitch.

"Well? I believe we were off? Ouduar, do be a dear and inform everyone else the emergency is off – and Sieur Threepio, if you would be so good as to direct us?"

~.~.~

"I must confess a curiosity to the bond between yourselves and the Sieur Ben Skywalker. Your attachment seems to permeate the connection of normal cousins." The CMC politely asked as Threepio led them towards the district in question. Jacen didn't say anything – he was considering why they needed Threepio to lead them, AND why they hadn't been able to sense any danger throughout the night.

It had honestly been bothering him, since Threepio had come into their room, frantically fussing. Surely, if something had happened to Ben, they would have felt the danger – well, HE would have... Jaina obviously wasn't thinking straight. So, he figured that nothing was really all that wrong, and going along with this would probably just waste all of their time, until they found Ben, and then Threepio would stop with the hysterics, Jaina would realize how badly out of proportion she'd blown this, and maybe they'd all laugh about it later.

"Mmm..." Jaina muttered, paying more attention to Her Excellency than Jacen was – he was focusing more on trying to sense their ultimate destination, and ultimately felling too much exuberant buzz from everyone in the crowds. It was honestly giving him a headache.

"Might I inquire as to why?" The CMC pressed.

"If you just wanna 'inquire'." Jaina answered.

"I see." They both fell silent and let Threepio chatter along for another several meters, the stalls and displays on the streets around them being dismantled and shut off with every step.

"He is quite young, Sieur Ben – compared to yourselves, there appear to be quite some years between the three of you. Were you exceptionally present in his childhood, despite the burdens of your lives?" The CMC finally continued to question. Again, Jacen didn't deign to answer, especially as he noticed that all of the vendors packing up seemed to be more merchandise and exotic foods than the games, cheap toys, and candies that had been geared towards children – stalls that Jacen knew, for a fact, had been side-by-side with these vendors.

And yet, there was no trace of them. Like everyone had collectively agreed it was time to shoo the kids to bed, while the adults still had their fun.

"Excellency." Jacen butted in, more because he wanted this line of questioning to end than out of a real need to answer, "Do you have any siblings?"

The CMC fell silent. Jacen more or less had figured that – she had every indication of being an only child. Nobody spoke again until Threepio stopped before a building – a small club, just as it had related before, but Jacen didn't feel anything coming off of it that was any different than the others around it. No heightened tensions or stress, nothing that might indicate a small child was being held against his will, and certainly none of the unhappiness that indicated the adults in the situation were afraid of being caught or in any kind of predicament. If anything, it sounded like there was a friendly bar-brawl going on inside – and felt every bit like it, too.

"This is the place, then?" The CMC asked, and when Threepio didn't say 'No' fast enough, she continued, "Then why do we not proceed from here?" and she swept past and into the building.

Inside was nearly exactly as Jacen had suspected – dimly lit for the purpose of creating an atmosphere, colored lamps hanging over standing drink tables, a corded off floor with slick tiles that had a whole gathering of beings less of dancing and more of obscenely swaying and gyrating to loud music.

The only thing that was off was how old the patrons seemed to be – and how juvenile the activities were.

"Your Exce... you ... word then?" Jacen barely heard the words of a tall, inordinately burly someone – face hidden by the lighting and the amount of smoke being puffed by other patrons, but that didn't matter nearly as much as Jacen could reach into the Force and sense that this man was perfectly clear-headed, sober, and unswayable.

So... probably an employee here. And, from how Threepio fussed, also probably one of the alleged kidnappers. And the CMC was talking to him with the same ease and familiarity she'd shown them.

Never a good indicator, especially when, after a brief jostle amongst some of the other, inebriated patrons, Jacen lost sight of the both of them and realized that he had no idea how that had happened.

"Jaina?" Jacen managed to hook his sister's elbow with his and pull her close enough that they wouldn't also get separated in the bustle, "Do you see where they went?"

Jaina's head thudded against his shoulder like she wanted to punch him with her forehead.

"Nope." She drawled, clearly also affected by the noise and the smoke, and, Jacen realized, she was probably fighting a much bigger headache than he was. And yet, she managed, "It's almost like a tiny woman completely dressed in black would be hard to spot in a place like this."

...Point.

"We should be able to find Ben, though – let's go..." He started to drag her around, even as she tried to pull away.

"We'll get better info if we ask other patrons – they'll've noticed if someone brought in a kid with red hair like his." Jaina seemed bound and determined to get to a table.

"Everyone here is too busy drinking or dancing – even if they saw anything, they won't remember..." Jacen pointed out.

"I notice things, even when I'M drinking!" Jaina snapped back, giving Jacen a shove.

"You didn't notice that Ben had been gone too long when we left lunch, this afternoon." Jacen shoved her back.

"Don't push me!"

"Young ones?" Jaina flailed a little too much and Jacen had to pull back to keep them both upright, as the CMC appeared at his elbow, almost completely out of nowhere. He shouldn't have been surprised – he'd known for a week now that she could do that, without any of them feeling her in the Force, but considering that he knew how to work around even that... "You ARE here to find Sieur Ben, are you not? They are in a private room – apparently, it is against the rules to allow children out in the public room where alcohol is being served!"

So, in a huff, the CMC led them back to the room in question – and the scene that greeted their eyes was certainly a contrast to what Threepio had insisted was a kidnapping. For starters, Ben and another child all in white were not in the least bit restrained, and were using this to their advantage to climb all over what looked like the tallest, heaviest of all four men in the room, even as he covered his head with his hands and two others tried to pull the small children off so their ineffective punches and kicks at least didn't strike anything vital. Someone with a scar over his face sauntered over as Ben let out a howl that sounded ridiculously familiar, beating his chest.

"You here for Red-Chief, over there?" He asked. Jacen had to consider before answering, especially as the noise made his ear feel like someone had reached in and grabbed his eardrum and popped it between their fingers.

"...Uhhhhh..." Jaina managed to answer for the both of them in about as many syllables as Jacen might have.

"Don't care – take him anyway. What'd'we hafta pay ya?"

In that moment, Jacen wished that Threepio had a cam in its circuits, just so they could capture this moment to show Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara when they got back.

"This is what you're missing when you're gone so long." Jaina muttered, "...Don't you wish you were home more often, now?"

Jacen was spared from answering, when Ben looked up from his attempt to murder – or at least temporarily inconvenience – the grown man three times his size and promptly waved and popped over to himself and Jaina.

"See, Jacci – I told you they'd be here." He announced, proudly, as the other child – a little girl, and apparently not a woolly ovine trained to walk on its hind legs, as Jacen would've guessed from the foufou on her dress – was set down by whoever was holding her.

"Jacci!" The CMC said, in a sharp enough tone that Jacen had the feeling it was this child, not Ben, that she'd been after, "You did not tell your new friend that Mister Jez was keeping you two safe and under supervision until I could retrieve you?"

The girl in white pouted and made a sign with her hands that Jacen didn't understand.

"Wait – you know these guys?" Ben asked, as color drained from his face, "Countess, you know these guys?"

"I should think so – they have been kind enough to keep watch on other members of my House when we set down in their territories, just in the event any of us were to be lost or missing on other occasions." The CMC turned back to the Mister Jez, still huffing, "And you could not at least properly inform Sieur Threepio – this esteemed, and VERY visible protocol droid – of the true nature of this absconding? We were very near sending out search parties!"

Jez did at least look a little embarrassed, but still held himself with stubborn pride.

"Didn't know the droid was yers, Excellency."

"And, yet, you felt it reasonable to direct him to find and tell me?"

"..Never can tell with them proto-types." He muttered, in a bitter tone that Jacen recognized from the usual variety of droid resenters, "And it ain't so easy, keepin' it together when the Amazing Ginger there is tryin'a hit us all in places, not too fun." He bobbed his head to someone else, sitting down with what looked like a cooling pack on his knee. Jaina took the opportunity to turn to Ben and give him the most magnificent glare Jacen could remember her mustering.

"Ben?" She hissed, in a 'You-just-wait-until-we-tell-your-Mom-and-Dad-about-this' voice. Ben tried to stand as straight up as he could, even though Jacen could see his feet fidgeting with nerves.

"I thought they were going to hurt Jacci." He said, in a clear, if not sullen voice, "...I was just protecting her. It's what a GENTLEMAN would have done."

All of the adults in the room let out various snorts and guffaws at that. Even the girl – Jacci, her name – looked appropriately humiliated at hearing Ben try to sound so adult for being so dumb. Either Ben was doing a good job ignoring them, or he thought their laughter was more approving than mockery.

"Well... I suppose all's well that ends well." The CMC finally said, regaining her bearings. Jacen would have disagreed, but wasn't about to say that when surrounded and outnumbered by people Ben had antagonized. Probably could have made it out alright, but it would be a massive pain, "Mister Jez, thank you so much for your trouble – do pay us a call later, and I am sure I can manage to express my appreciation in a more constructive manner."

Jez shrugged, "Ah... Never hurts to do you a favor – have you owe me for a change... Besides, 'm sure that droid'll tell you 'bout all the sweets we caught them at – you're the one really getting the short end, tonight."

Indeed, Threepio was more than happy to be included in the conversation and extrapolate on all the booths Ben and Jacci had visited – Her Excellency flinched when she heard 'Bon-bon Chews' ("All that sugar..."), Jacen groaned when he heard 'Sugar Kola Sticks' ("All that caffeine..."), and Jaina smacked Ben when she heard he'd been by the stand with the 'clear soups' ("How many did you have?" "Uhhhhh..." "Yeah, that's what I thought.") The CMC's lips twisted in that queer way of hers before she reached over and promptly seized Jacci by the ear. The girl grimaced, but made no noise, and allowed herself to be dragged.

"And YOU, young lady – I almost brought Uncle Tilus with me, I thought you were in danger. You know better than that." Jacci didn't answer, but that seemed to be less to the point.

"...Countess... you know Jacci?" Ben asked, regaining his bearings. Jacen and Jaina gave him strange looks – wasn't it pretty obvious? – and the Countess frowned.

"You mean, you could not tell?" Her hand swept out and held Jacci by her chin, so the two of them were side-by-side. And, seeing at them that way, they did look so, so strangely similar, "Jacci is my precious little sister."

If Jacen and Jaina were surprised, they were nowhere near as shocked as Ben was.

"WHAAAAAAT?"

~.~.~

"I can't believe I kissed the Countess's SISTER!" Ben said, numbly, dragging his feet. His cousins and the Countess had decided that a stroll through the streets was in order – separately, as both he and Jacci were still bouncing from all the junk food they'd et. Jacen and Jaina were definitely walking slower than they had been all week – Jaina had been especially pissed at him over that one cart, since Ben was starting to get the idea that it hadn't been soup. After all, soup wouldn't've made Jaina puke when she'd stopped by the same one earlier in the week, to hear her tell the story.

"Could be worse." Jaina groused – Ben could feel, even from a meter away, that she had a headache, mostly from how it felt like he could see a big, hovering ball of glowing pain circling her head. The both of them had been mostly silent, and Ben had been all too happy to babble their ears off at motorized speed. But, now – he guessed the sugar was starting to wear off. Probably for the best – if he was able to SEE what Jaina was feeling, that had to be too much.

"Yeah – you could've been on Bespin when you did it, and that would've been a SMOKING kiss!" Jacen agreed, all bright and kind of wobbly and bouncy, even if he was nowhere near Ben's energy. All of a sudden, Ben saw the headache around Jaina's temples pulse a different color as she groaned, just on the last note of Jacen's pun.

"You're sure in a fine mood, considering we almost LOST him!" She snapped. Ben went back to walking ahead – this time, being sure he jumped from block to block in the street. He had to – otherwise, the kraken hiding in the cracks would get him.

"He wasn't in any danger, Jaina – and everything turned out fine." Jacen rebutted.

"You didn't KNOW that!" Jaina shouted, and Ben felt the headache pulse again before she quieted down.

"We would have felt if Ben was in any real trouble." And now they were talking about the Force. Ben tuned them out, walking all the way around the blocks before making another daring leap over the bottomless chasms of the walkway.

"Yeah? Then, why didn't you just feel out where Ben was and we could've avoided this whole trip?"

Jacen stopped being so wobbly, and he dulled a little. But his voice sounded exactly the same when he spoke.

"Because I wasn't actively looking for him – obviously, we didn't need to, and if anything would've happened..."

"BULLSHIT!" Jaina shouted, again, "You couldn't feel him, because NONE of us can – not even Uncle Luke can sense Ben in the Force! But, since you've got so much more important things to do that you can't be bothered to come home, I guess you wouldn't know about that!"

And they were talking about him. Oh well – if they wanted him to join their conversation, Ben was sure they'd tell him or something. He didn't have time to pay attention to grown-up stuff, not when there were spots on the walkway to scuff at with his shoe and see if they were stuck to the ground, or if they might be something like a coin or if it squished under his toe.

"...How is he doing that?"

"We don't know. He's completely withdrawn from the Force, too – why'd you think Aunt Mara wanted US to take him, instead of coming herself for this trip?" Ben found a button that had a coin pattern pressed into it – sure, it wasn't real, but it was shiny, and cool enough that he was keeping it, anyway.

"...But..." Jacen's brightness flickered, before he started talking again, "…Well, we'll figure it out, eventually…"

"Sure…" Jaina muttered, "WE will."

And they were quiet for a little longer while Ben kept finding coins, or pieces of flimsy which had somehow maintained a pristine, crisp quality, despite being on the street. It was still pretty impressive, the things people left on the streets and nobody bothered to pick up. He was busy trying to pull up what looked like a playing card that was stuck to the duracrete, when he felt Jacen's hand on his head.

"Hey, Ben." Ben looked up, to see his cousin standing over him.

"Hey." Ben answered, and then went back to trying to peel the card up. From what he could tell, it looked like a sabaac card – he couldn't see any of the decals in the corners to denote what suit it was supposed to be, and sabaac was the only deck like that.

"Finding some cool stuff?"

"Yep." There we go – Ben managed to get it off the ground, and without the layers of card-stock unpeeling. The front was still sticky, like it was covered with sugar and water, and distorted the picture of a pod on the face. Ah – so that's what Number 7 was…

"I'd find animals when I was your age. You looking for bugs?"

Ben glanced at Jacen and raised an eyebrow. They hadn't been so keen on talking to him before – and what was this about bugs? Wasn't it obvious he wasn't?

"No?" He answered, though wishing that Jacen would just read his mind – like everyone else around him always seemed to, anyway – and stop pestering him. Ben could feel Jacen's tight, knotted emotions, but his face didn't seem to change. Ben wasn't too sure about Jacen – he just seemed to keep breaking the rules.

"…You're getting bigger, I see." Jacen finally added. Ben felt the need to point out that, yes, that was why it was called 'Growing-up', but Jacen didn't let him say anything, "Jaina thinks you're gonna be too big to carry, soon."

Up ahead, Jaina came to a dead halt and looked back over her shoulder at them.

"Why'd you wanna carry me?" Ben asked, getting more uneasy as to where this conversation was supposed to be going. Again, there was that feeling as Ben could see the threads of Jacen's feelings coil even tighter. Usually, there'd be a frown or a glare with that look – why wasn't Jacen DOING that? Was he TRYING to confuse Ben?

"Jacen – don't you karking DARE!" She called. See – unlike Jacen, she followed the rules, and when her emotions spiked and boiled and made those prickly feelings, she frowned and scowled, she used rude words and made her voice rumble.

"Well… did my dad ever play Rontos with you?" He hadn't. Ben wondered how you played, "Here – get on my back, and put your arms under mine."

By the time Jacen had hooked his arms under Ben's knees, Ben didn't see how this was 'Playing Rontos'.

"Rontos are quadrupeds." He complained.

"I know – I said we should call this game 'Tythonian Raptors'. But, anyway, now we make Ronto noises."

Well, that, Ben could do – and, considering the streets were mostly empty except for the rowdy drunks, nobody paid them any heed when they managed to let off some impressive bellows that did sound quite Ronto-ified in nature. Up ahead, Ben could see Jaina loudly groaning as her headache got worse, but mostly throbbing with annoyance.

"Now what?" He asked when Jacen quieted down. From what he could tell, Jacen's emotions were still that big ball of points and gravel, but they were starting to feel… more close to a pleasant warm, instead of the extreme heat or cold that he'd felt at other times during the day. And, at least, when Jacen looked back over his shoulder, he was grinning, all teeth and lines around his cheeks, even if that didn't quite match what was in his stomach.

"Now, we chase Jaya back to the hotel."

"YOU! GUYS! ARE! JERKS!" Jaina shouted, still not managing to drown out their Ronto bellows as Jacen proceeded to do just that. By the time they made it to the hotel – and the world started to look more normal and he was actually feeling ready for bed - even Ben would admit it had been worth it, to see Jaina's prickly feelings melt off and start to glow again.

~.~.~

Their last day started off earlier than the rest of the week – something that Ben had not been looking forward to. The return to routine, the last fragments of vacation slipping away, a kind of ennui settling onto him like a too hot, too heavy blanket. Never mind that Ben had been rising even earlier in the week for those hours with the Countess – that had been for the diversion. An early rise that was technically an hour and a half later than his other mornings, if he was being dragged up to pack and get ready to leave, was intolerable.

His mood lifted when they exited their room and found, not just the Countess and her valet, but also Jacci sitting in the lounge with a table of breakfasting food. Despite his own stomach having experienced something of a revolt last night – Jaina explained that drinking what he had in combination with ANY of the foods with so many sugars, acids, and who-knew what else, would probably have made him sick, but TOGETHER... – Ben knew an appetizing spread when he saw it, and the resentment of being forced to part ways so soon was softened when his cousins joined him on the couch and accepted plates of steaming, fresh eggs and slices of toast with golden butter liquidizing and seeping into the fluffy pores of the bread. Even the morning light seemed to be welcoming them into the day, with rays of sun that were not too bright, but just the right shade of white streaming in and pouring over them all, not unlike the cream Ben noticed Mister Gornash adding to everyone's cups of caf.

So, with the warm comfort of the prepared breakfast sliding down to soothe his stomach and the remarkable pleasantness of the mild pastry sweets easing his sour temper, Ben finally opened his mouth to ask of Mister Gornash,

"You've got scars under your eyes. Does that make you-" He signed like Jacci had for her 'Uncle Eye-lines', and the morning mood quickly went from warm to tepid when Jaina smacked him upside the head for his insolence. If he took exception to the remark, Mister Gornash made no move to express himself.

"I do believe so, sir." Was all he said before turning back to serving out more squares of morning-biscuit, flecked with fruit. The Countess didn't look perturbed in the least and even Jacci was smiling brightly as she helped herself to another slice of toast.

"So, the day has come for you to return to your homes?" The Countess asked, idly stirring a cup of tea that seemed to be her only nourishment, "It seems like too short a time – and, to think, when first we met, I contemplated inviting you to join our Household, believing that you had nowhere else to go."

Ben didn't recall that, but Jaina snickered into her cup of caf before reaching for a square of toast that had been cooked with the egg on top of it.

"Yeah – what was the weird phrase you used that meant we were orphans, again? It was something old-timey, like 'No-Land' or something..." So Ben supposed this encounter must truly have passed.

"'Of no name' – I must confess, I am ashamed to have presumed so erroneously..." The Countess replied, casually tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, and only then did Ben notice that her hair was much shorter than he'd seen it before, not including the times she wore it up... it was tied, in a loose, low tail, and draped over her shoulder, as though she'd only had a moment to prepare that morning and hadn't wanted to bother with a bun, but couldn't leave it loose... And, on top of that, her hair was a pale shade of brown, not unlike the tea she was drinking, compared to the dark tresses that had contrasted her pale skin, not even last night...

"What happened to your hair?" He finally asked, interrupting what she was saying, "It's different from last night."

Jacen made a gagging noise, as though he were choking on his caf, but that was of no consequence to Ben, as he awaited the Countess' answer. Indeed, she looked surprised, not at his observation, but how he chose to comment.

"...That would be because I am wearing a wig, Sieur Ben." She replied, simply.

"...Her hair's been changing all week, Ben – didn't you notice?" Jaina pointed out, patting her brother on the back. Ben allowed his face a brief contortion, then looked back to the Countess.

"So, you've ALWAYS been wearing wigs?" He asked, and when his theory was confirmed, pressed on, "Can I see what's under it?"

The Countess set her tea down with a sharp clatter and sent Ben a look that, unlike all her previous expressions, seemed a bit more like the alien, vague looks he got from his parents and other adults, save for her eyes – those, he could tell, were sharp and hard, and flashed in his direction, and even though he could not feel anything from her as he did from everyone else, he still had the impression of being subjected to a boiling fury, only barely contained in front of company.

"No, you may NOT." She snapped, rather as though Ben had asked if he could look up her skirt – even he could tell THAT tone of voice, from how often he heard other Masters use it with him, immediately followed by 'That is COMPLETELY inappropriate, young man – you KNOW better', even if he didn't.

Jacci waved at him, and frantically signed that even SHE hadn't seen her 'Big Stranger' without a wig, and she suspected that nobody ever had, so 'Big Stranger' probably didn't like being asked. Well, why didn't she just say so, Ben asked back, but Jacci didn't know – something about how adults expected them to be grown-up AND kids, or some other nonsense.

Then, the Countess cleared her throat and they stopped their hand-conversation as she began to speak.

"In any case – where is it that you shall be returning to?" She seemed to be talking to him AND Jacen and Jaina, as though she expected different answers to somehow come at the same time, "I imagine it would be much simpler to keep lines of communication open if we are more acutely aware of our destinations."

"Depends – where are YOU an' everyone else here we ain't seen yet headed?" Jaina asked, cocking an eyebrow. Ben turned to blink at her, wondering what she meant by 'everyone else'. The Countess' smile looked half-formed.

"I am sorry to say, we know not. Our destinations vary depending on the whims of the Household – and, as of this morning, no one has any clear inclinations." She explained. Jaina snorted.

"So, you guys are sort of like Jacen?" Ben asked, just to see if he'd properly understood this idea. The adults all stared at him, "Because we're going back to Coruscant, but he's been going around the galaxy and nobody's known where he's been since I was little."

Nobody had a chance to answer Ben, because Jacci's eyes lit up and she tugged on the Countess' sleeve, asking if they could go to Coruscant, too, because they'd never been there, and at least they'd know SOMEONE instead of being complete strangers, and it sounded like such fun, please, please, please?

It was certainly an idea that made Ben a little more... well, maybe not more anything, but at least less unhappy. He wrapped his arms around his elbows and tried not to bounce with excited glee. Jacci even seemed to do the same thing, folding her hands in her lap in the exact same manner as the Countess did upon that suggestion.

Oh. So, the Countess was exactly the same – too overwhelmed with what she felt that, instead of showing it, she had to be still to feel it all the way through. Ben wondered if that was what Jacen was doing, all the time, or if it was something else?

"...We would have to talk to everyone else – it would be unfair if they wanted to stay away from Coruscant, and yet, we went against their will..." She finally said, but Ben heard something in her voice that seemed an awful like excitement. Maybe she was secretly hoping that everyone would say 'yes'. And then, Ben caught the heavy frown that Mister Gornash was directing in Jacci's direction, only for her to smile at him, as though she didn't see his expression at all.

"So – you're going to be coming?" Jaina asked, in a voice as though she didn't quite believe it, but also could be convinced of it, too. From what Ben could feel, she also seemed equal parts unhappy about it, and somehow perfectly content, and like she didn't know how to feel both of those at the same time. He agreed – it did feel confusing, what Jaina was feeling.

"Well, if we DO agree on it, I shall inform everyone within the month – and, as Jacci rightfully points out, we might need some... mediators... into Coruscanti society..." The Countess began, only for Jacen, again, to choke on his food.

"Mediators? Are you thinking of some kinda trouble?" Jaina asked. The Countess laughed, lightly.

"No, no, you misunderstand my use of the word – mediators, in the sense of a go-between. If I come to the decision to take up residence on Coruscant sometime in the near future, I would need to have a secure network, for business purposes, in order to establish..."

"I hope your prospects go well on Coruscant." Ben agreed, an evident expression of delight on his face. The Countess gave him a peculiar look, but did not comment on the interruption.

"That may depend on you, Sieur Ben Skywalker." The Countess replied, giving the three of them another glance, as though expecting something less pleasant in their reactions, "You see, I have no contacts inside the galaxy. To be honest, you four are the first I have ever actually managed to establish a meeting with who were willing to sit with me through a meal."

Ben blushed and tried not to beam too much, and cast a look back to his cousins to speak of his pride, as this was obviously an achievement in the Countess's concern, only to see the two of them wearing the most blank expressions, ever – even though he could feel them, neither nearly as composed or neutral as they seemed to be acting.

"As such, I would like for your families to act as my way of transitioning into the society in the Core Worlds and Inner Rim." She explained. Jacen and Jaina – Ben could feel their emotions more clearly now – took suspicion to this statement, which the Countess warmed to, "Of course, the reason for my request is two-fold – one being that you are the first two families I have been able to establish a firm contact with, and the second being that I would care to better understand the mechanics of Coruscant's social norms. Having some connections would not only ease my ability to do business, but also the conventions of daily behavior that you would take for granted, having lived there your entire lives."

Again, Ben felt something between Jacen and Jaina, as though they both had concluded the Countess was wrong about something, and neither of them really wanted to be the ones to tell her.

"I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't mind..." Ben started, but then, Jaina decided to interrupt.

"Ah, I'm pretty sure Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke would mind quite a bit, Ben..."

"…JUST as long as you don't come calling every hour of the day... things are a little hectic." Ben continued, trying to pretend he hadn't heard Jaina, with a smile, to which the Countess smiled back.

"Don't worry – I am low-maintenance as far as aristocrats go." She replied, "Besides – Jacci seems to have attached to you with exceptional speed – if nothing else, surely it would be no imposition to see to it that proper introductions were made, to assure them that you are not in the company of complete strangers."

Jacen and Jaina shared a glance at that statement, even as the Countess continued on to more trivial subjects, like the weather. In spite of himself, Ben joined into the conversation with gusto – especially when it came time to wonder what those clouds might have in store and he got to extrapolate on his recently acquired knowledge of the types of clouds and which ones were formed in the higher atmosphere with the conditions for a storm.

By the time they left, indeed, rain was coming down in heavy sheets, practically obscuring the streets from even the most piercing gazes. Ben couldn't remember a time when he'd felt happier, just standing out in the downpour and letting it soak through his new orange jacket, even as Jaina called for him to get in the boarding line.

~.~.~

The CMC stood on the platform of the transport center, watching as the ship that Ben and his cousins had left on cleared the atmosphere, a look in her eyes that no passerby would have recognized before she returned to the hover carriage, paid the driver his fare, and then said he was relieved of his rental to her. Even when the driver protested, insisting he'd be happy to take her back to the hotel for no charge, she declined.

She chose to walk all the way back to her hotel room, even without an umbrella.

As night fell, she peered out of the window in her room, staring up into the sky, as though she could see the ship from so far away among the stars. Jacci curled up next to her on the sofa and fixed her arms around her Big Stranger's waist, ignoring the still damp cloth of her black dress. The CMC smiled and pressed a hand to Jacci's curls.

"Did you like your new friend, dear heart?" She asked, and Jacci truly must have been pleased if she nodded without even rolling her eyes at the diminutive moniker. The CMC held her sister closer, running her fingers through the looser curls, soothing the child to sleep, "Good… I am glad for that…"

A tray of tea was set down before them as the valet, Gornash, eyed the two, and his Master's peculiar expression.

"Milady?" He queried, raising an eyebrow. The CMC did not return the gaze.

"'Tis nothing, Gornash." She was still gazing out the window, as though watching something far, far away – behind the moon and beyond the rain, "…Just a thought."