| It Takes One to Know One By Jemmiah |
| ENTRY SIXTY-ONE: It's been nearly a day since I wrote in this diary. See, I'm not doing too well right now. I went to school as per usual. Got the usual threats from Sophie, you know? Then there's like this huge blank and I've woken up in the infirmary. I don't know what happened for sure although I can guess. I'm so sick of this place. Do you know how long it took me to get out of here the first time round? I hardly had a day's illness before I hooked up with Ben, and considering the amount of time he spends in here I think he's a jinx. I woke up to find An-Paj there checking that I was still alive, at least I suppose that's what he was doing. He asked me lots of things like how I felt and where it hurt. Then he wanted to know what I remembered and I had to tell him I couldn't remember anything. Which is mostly the truth. I have fuzzy memories but they're all silly. He said that they'd tried to contact Sal-Fina but she appeared to be out of the temple but that Evla was waiting to speak to me if I was up to it… The door opened softly, so gently that at first Jemmiah didn't even know that Evla had stepped into the room. The concerned figure moved forward tentatively lest she so much as disturb a particle of dust, An-Paj nodding her ahead. As Jemmiah watched Evla creeping towards her bed she noted that An-Paj swiftly closed the door again in order to give them the time they needed to be alone…but in reality she desperately wanted the healer to come back. Whilst unaware of how she must appear to others who viewed her Jemmy could nonetheless guess that she wasn't a pretty sight, and she remained torn between the need to be reassured by someone warm and caring and the wish to send the crèche master away so she could not see the terrible state she surely looked. Corellian pride invariably came at a price, but in the end the need for love had won out. "Jemmiah?" Evla stopped halfway across the floor between her bed and the doorway. Part of Jemmy flinched. What must Evla think of her? What would she say? Because now Jemmiah found that it mattered what Evla's opinion of her might be in the exact way that it mattered how Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan looked upon her. "Well," Evla said quietly, inching closer to the bed, "I never thought my cooking was so bad that you'd go to such lengths to avoid one of my supper invites!" For a moment Jemmy stared at her, not comprehending that she was joking…she was joking, wasn't she? But then she saw the corners of Evla's mouth turn up at the corners and then she understood: she didn't think any less of her for looking an undignified mess or being swathed in bacta soaked bandages like some ancient mummy! And thank the force for it, for she could do with all the friends she could get at that moment in time. Evla seemed to understand the incredible loneliness, because within seconds there came the lightest, most comforting of force-hugs - just like before in the gardens when she'd been feeling so down and isolated. Even if no actual contact had been made, the cosseting touch of the woman's mind felt every bit as real. "How are you?" Evla asked, seating herself beside her, marveling over how small Jemmiah looked amidst the starched, engulfing white sheets of the bed. "Does it hurt?" "My head's sore." Jemmy muttered. "But I'm okay, I guess." "You don't sound sure." "I want Qui-Gon to come back." Jemmiah moped, wondering if Evla was trying, like An-Paj before her, to uncover the mystery behind her arrival in the infirmary. "But at the same time I don't want him here right now…" "Why?" "Because I'd feel ashamed of him seeing me like this when he ties so hard to help me." Jemmy turned her head away to the wall as she spoke, not wanting to see Evla's reactions to her words. "And he'd get upset…I don't like seeing him and Ben get upset. I just wish people could be happy and get along…" For a moment, whether through some fleeting contact with Jemmiah's mind or as a result of her famed healer's intuition, Evla began to feel that the child was no longer talking about the happiness of Qui-Gon and his padawan but rather her own. Jemmiah's inability to make friends didn't seem to be her only source of grief; there was also her ability to make enemies, and foremost in her mind there seemed to be one individual - one powerful boulder of contention - who stood out from all the others. Had it been this as yet unknown person who had so brutally managed to hospitalize her? Evla was beginning to wonder… "It's not always possible." She acknowledged, her eyes awash with sympathy. "But Qui-Gon is a kind man who will always listen to what you say to him - about anything. Or anybody." She added pointedly, hoping that Jemmiah might well take the bait and tell her what she knew regarding her attack. "You were found quite badly beaten…it was a good thing you were taken to the infirmary when you were. You were lucky." "I don't feel lucky." Jemmy moaned. "I don't understand what is it about me that makes people want to kill me? Is it the way I look? I mean, I'm not pretty but that's not my fault…or is it the way I talk?" "Oh, sweetheart." Evla was on the verge of reaching over to tousle the girl's tangled mass of sprawling hair but pulled her hand back, remembering that Jemmiah had complained of a sore head. "You mustn't think that. Whoever did this to you was evil…a horrible, unforgiving, nasty person to even think of such a think let alone do it! They are the one with the faults, not you!" "Then how come I'm in an infirmary bed?" Jemmiah whispered painfully. "How come I'm the one who feels like they've been kicked in the head?" Evla's pause was a lengthy one, and even in her weakened state it told the groggy Corellian much indeed. "You were violently assaulted behind a cantina downtown on the way home from school." Evla studied Jemmiah's face, which was still turned in the direction of the wall. "If you feel as if you've been systematically worked over then that is because you were. Don't you remember," Evla continued hopefully, "what happened to you? Nothing at all of what might have occurred?" Jemmiah's voice became taut with distress. "I've told An-Paj…I don't remember a thing! One moment I was walking home from school and the next I wake up here. It's just a fuzzy, painful blank!" Jemmy closed her eyes, trying to keep the memories from returning. She knew that An-Paj had said her recollection of the incident would improve in time, but given what she imagined had happed Jemmy wasn't sure she wanted to remember. "Just silly things…mad stuff, really. Not important…" "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Evla asked her. "I won't laugh at how silly you think your memories are. Every little helps." Jemmiah said nothing for a moment. Then at long last she turned her head to face Evla once again. "Well…" She said cautiously, "I had this strange image…a dream…that there was this Wookiee…bending over me…" "There was a Wookiee!" Evla's voice rose slightly with excitement. "The Wookie found you and bought you to the temple. You see, you can remember things! And with a little time and patience we might be able to unravel this horrid mystery and put an end to it. If we could possibly trace this Wookiee then we might get some clue as to what she saw and who your attacker was…" I already know who it was. Jemmiah thought dispiritedly, her heart sinking as she stared up on the tiles of the ceiling. And I know you want to help me, but you can't. Nobody can! Because if I tell what I think happened then I'll be just digging a deeper hole for myself when I return to school, and next time Sophie WILL kill me! Because she'll get away with it no matter what I say. Nobody will believe me! And Sophie's family is well connected on the political sphere and has influence. Whose story are they going to for? Penniless orphan or rich skinx? Evla couldn't hear the words nor could she see the images in Jemmiah's mind, but she did sense the feeling of desperation that accompanied her moment of quiet introspection. There was something going on here, something much deeper than Evla had given credit, which was causing major long-term problems for Jemmiah. It wasn't just the callous actions of the faceless individual who'd landed her in the infirmary but rather some sense of built up layers of misery and hurt. Some problem with her school? It was certainly possible: the attack had occurred on the way home, and it was conceivable therefor that her fellow scholars had witnessed something potentially important. Why had she not taken her aircab as per usual? It was certainly a line of inquiry that bore thinking about. "Is there anything I can get you?" Evla asked, her words hushed and soothing in deference to Jemmiah's throbbing skull. "Anything you want?" "What I want is a bath!" Jemmiah scowled as the beating inside her head became more pronounced the longer she talked. "I smell terrible!" Evla nodded. "The bacta. It's not pleasant, is it? But it does help. It's fairly miraculous stuff you know? Force help us if we should ever find ourselves in the middle of a shortage!" "Force help Obi-Wan." Jemmiah was heard to mutter under her breath. "You think I'm bad, you should see him." Evla smiled at her, sending her own special brand of healing thoughts through the force, willing her to a swift recovery. "I've swapped shifts with one of my assistants at the crèche, which should allow me to visit you on a more frequent basis." She made a brief show of straightening the folds within the fabric of her crèche garb, but Jemmiah wasn't fooled. This was something that was very important to Evla: as much to her as to Jemmy herself. "I'm no substitute for Qui-Gon, but I'd like to make sure that you weren't upset on your own for any length of time. Do you know," She laughed, "that when I woke up this morning I'd decided to begin my search for a new padawan. But now…now the force is telling me something different: that this is far more important." Jemmiah found herself without the words to say thank you. There was still so much to be sorted out: things that went round and round in her mind forming crazy circles, like what would happen on her return to school? Would the harassment start all over again? Would it have died down to bearable proportions, or had Sophie not been frightened by the seriousness of the situation? Because one thing was certain: Jemmiah no longer felt as if she had the mental reserves left to deal with the persistent bullies which constantly plagued her. Somewhere, something would have to give… "Shhh." Evla whispered, using the force to dispel the tears that had threatened to well at the corners of Jemmiah's eyes. "Everything will be alright. You wait and see if I'm not right. In the end, everything works out the way it's supposed to…" Diary, Evla stayed for a few hours. She talked and I listened coz I was too tired to speak much. Then her rearranged shift started and she had to go. Sal-Fina didn't turn up for ages! She grudgingly agreed to bring my shoulder bag down, which is why I am typing this now. I hid my diary in the secret compartment, hidden in a box of tissues. I knew she'd never find it in there! I'll write more tomorrow. My head is sore and I'm going to try to sleep. The following day had brought a mixed bag of fortune for Jemmiah. On one hand there had come the extremely satisfying news that Evla had harangued Mace Windu for his stupidity in placing her in Sal-Fina's (so-called) care, with the lingering hope therefor that he might actually do something to keep the surly, stuck-up witch in line! Frankly Jemmiah had just about come to the end of her tether where Sal-Fina and Ambianca were concerned; she wouldn't care if she never had to speak to the pair again! As long as the miserable Sithling kept out of her way Jemmiah would strive to do likewise. Especially as she'd just about run out of Jay's wonder-tablets! The bad part of the day had been when Ferdi had manhandled her head as if it were a giant piece of fruit on a large cocktail stick…back and forward, left and right…did the woman not know the meaning of the word 'owch'? Was gentle not part of the healers vocabulary? What part of "please stop: it hurts," did she not understand? Grimacing at the memory Jemmiah decided that Ferdi had evidently trained as a shot-putter or some kind of weight lifter before she'd found her vocation with the jedi. Then there'd been the little healer person…Healer Leona. The one who kept sneaking around as if she were afraid of running into somebody. That in itself was more than enough to pique Jemmiah's curiosity. She'd seen Leona on many occasions but had never spoken to her before, quite liking the look of her friendly face and confident, quiet manner. That had lasted as long as it had taken Healer P'lila to fetch Ferdi; one small, off the record remark requesting her not to plump up her pillow because of her sore neck had sent the little mouse-like person scurrying away to fetch the scary mountain of a woman who, as already documented, had proceeded to effect a cure by amputating her head! Snitch! If Jemmiah had found the time spent in the infirmary between Evla's visits pure tedium, the next day had brought irritations of a different sort altogether. The CCID had sent round two hulking great females (who height-wise at least might have given Ferdi a run for her money) to question her regarding the attack. Answering personal questions, especially ones that Jemmiah didn't want to remember when all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep had left the Corellian feeling ever so slightly crochety. Even with Healer Leona and Evla both hovering at the bottom of Jemmy's bed making certain that the investigators didn't tire her too much, Jemmiah did not feel inclined to be overly communicative. What was there to say, after all? Or rather, what could she tell? When they had left her, Jemmiah noted in her diary - I told them very little. I said I had no memory of being in the alleyway or how I got there, and that I hardly remembered a thing afterwards. The only thing I told them was that I remember being stared at by a huge Wookiee but that at the time I thought it was a dream. Then they started to ask me other stuff like had I been walking back from school alone or with any friends. Did I usually go that route and if not could I think of any reasons why I would go that way instead? Was there anyone at all whom may have witnessed my attack? What do I remember leading up to the attack? What sort of day had it been? Worst of all: do I like my school? I don't think I gave anything away to them, but I knew that Evla had somehow sensed me flinching at that last question. I hadn't expected her to turn up like that but she's got this habit of knowing when to be there… Evla had known that something was wrong from the start even if Jemmiah wouldn't confirm it with her own lips: something in the way she looked back at her confirmed it. Somehow, even although Jemmy hadn't seen it happening, Evla had become extremely good at being able to read her - so good in fact that the Corellian wondered if the woman were somehow using the force to tap into her very thoughts. But no, Evla would not do such a thing. She had promised and Jemmiah was fairly certain by that stage that Evla was one of the most honorable beings she had ever met in her life. Perhaps, having spent an existence with people who would shoot you as soon as look at you, that was what made people like Qui-Gon, Ben and Evla so very special. "Master Windu is investigating the possibility of your being relocated to stay with another master until Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan return." Evla divulged the moment Healer Leona and the investigators had left the room. "I think he feels genuinely sorry for what has happened to you." "So he should!" Jemmy grumbled, covers pulled indignantly up to her neck just as they had been when the CCID women had been sitting next to her, in a vain effort to keep them as far away as possible. "Yes, that's as maybe. But he kept repeating that he felt certain the force had told him to put you and Sal-Fina together…that it felt right at the time." Evla laughed lightly, a sound that Jemmiah found herself responding to with a smirk of her own. "I think you are the only person in the history of the temple who has ever made Master Windu lose faith in himself!" "Good!" Jemmiah sniffed, although still smiling. "After what I've been through, a little remorse serves him right!" Her look of mild amusement died almost instantaneously as Jemmiah suddenly began to wonder whom the new master might be. Sure, it couldn't be worse than Sal-Fina but then that still left a lot of rotten papyri fruit in the barrel to wade through! Nobody else had come forward to ask her to stay with them; not even the people Qui-Gon might have called friend. They wouldn't allow Dex to help; Vernice was away…it was back to square one! The only thing that would help her now was the sudden and unexpected return of Quiggy and Ben. Who could they be considering? Of Shoozer…it couldn't be Mace himself, could it? The man who cracked glass on the rare occasions he smiled? The jedi with furniture so viscous that it could bite? I should be grateful. Whatever happens, Sal-Fina is out the picture. Jemmiah reminded herself. And if it IS Master Windu and he's feeling guilty enough to look after me, at least I know that he'll try his best to do exactly that. He won't shove me out in the pouring rain or lock me in cupboards for hours and hours… "Did you do that for me?" Jemmiah asked humbly. "Did you arrange it so I wouldn't have to stay with Sal-Fina?" Evla nodded slowly; glad for the opening the conversation had given her. "Yes, I did. I must stress it is a possibility at the moment, but I think the chances of you being sent back to stay with Master Falmar are slim. And now, in return I would like a favor from you." She lowered her chin so that Jemmiah could see directly into the passive stone-like eyes, the irises flecked with mossy green. "If you are having any difficulties…any problems…away from the temple," she paused as Jemmy thinned her lips, "I am asking you to let me know about them. In fact, I'm begging you to tell me. I might be able to help - that's what I'm here for. I'm not some soul healer or expert in psychology…I don't know the inner workings of the mind back to front and inside out. But," she reached for Jemmy's hand, squeezing slightly; "I do know the heart. And I can see that your heart is sorely troubled." Jemmiah wanted the pillows and blankets to swallow her whole, leaving no visible trace behind. Couldn't Evla see how difficult it was? She wanted to talk…wanted to tell her the truth. If she thought for a moment that it would do any good then perhaps she'd admit to the bulling and the verbal and physical torments to which she'd so regularly been subjected. But it wouldn't be of any use. Everything would go on as it was, only worse. The problem did not lie with the bullies but with her: for committing the heinous crime of being different to everyone else. Unless she grew several inches in height overnight or woke up with a brand new face and normal, boring eyes, things would continue just as they had before. Ridiculous? Most certainly: but alas, there was more chance of such a fairytale coming true then of being accepted for what she was. "Qui-Gon would want you to ask for help." Evla tried to cajole her to the best of her abilities. "If you had anything troubling you it would ordinarily be him you would go to, yes? He's not here - but I am, and I feel certain that as his friend he would be happy for you to confide your troubles to me. But whatever you do, please don't bottle things up inside. Think of it like a badly shaken container of fizzy juice: when the top is removed you're left with a huge, explosive mess to clear up." Nice imagery, approved Jemmiah, wondering if Evla wasn't really a soul healer in disguise. It was so tempting to tell...it would feel so good to be able to rid herself of some of the burdens...but it felt as if a huge, invisible fist had grabbed hold of her tongue and refused to let go. There was some part of her that couldn't…wouldn't allow herself to admit the truth, the same part of her that kept all her secrets and dark, painful memories locked away… "I'm okay." Jemmy replied guiltily, knowing that the master did not believe her for a second. Evla sighed in defeat, sensing the barriers come down again. "Then promise me that if you think of anything…anything at all that upsets you about what happened or something else for that matter, that you will speak to me. Please?" She finished by begging once again. "Consider it, for me?" Jemmiah nodded, only too happy to change the subject. Once Evla had returned to the crèche, Jemmy was left to note that - I really, really wanted to tell her about Sophie's bullying but I was just too scared. The terrible thing is that I know if I don't say anything I will be sent back to school after I am better and it will all start up again. I'm sure Digwurt's out enjoying herself somewhere as it is the weekend. One day I will get her back for this. I don't care if I have to wait a decade to do it, or fifty years, or even a hundred! She is going to get what's coming to her. I'll see to that! Flint had spent the whole day pacing back and forwards, saying little, constantly polishing the bar surface to the extent that Mungo thought he could see holes appearing in the wood! Everywhere she went, so did the dusting cloth: at one point she'd even roared at a customer for not picking up their ale glass so she could polish underneath! As people drank she swept up under their feet, asking them to raise their legs in the process to allow for her hefty Wookiee body. At one point in proceedings Flint had stopped a game of high-stakes sabaac right at the most critical moment so that she might clean up the mess spilled on the benches! Mungo watched his cousin's antics with growing concern. An over-zealous Flint meant a worried Flint, and a worried Flint was someone you didn't want to tangle with lightly… Having finally persuaded her to stop bothering the customers on the grounds that she was actually at risk of driving them away and costing them money, Mungo watched Flint wordlessly pick up the broom and make her way out into the yard, aimlessly sweeping at bits of non existent dirt as she went. A stray brush here…a small flick of the broom there…each gesture performed in a totally absent minded way as if the Wookie's brain were elsewhere engaged. As Mungo watched her retreat towards the darkest part of the yard he saw her lean her hands against the top of the broom, lowering her chin on top of them whilst staring wistfully into the gloom, remembering. His eyes blinking as they grew accustomed to the change of light; Mungo followed her down the steps towards the garbage bins. It was clear even to him where his cousin's thoughts lay. "Why do you not call the infirmary?" Mungo asked her, shuffling cautiously forward. "I am certain that the healers there would be happy to tell you of the human child's condition were you to ask." Flint mumbled something inaudible causing Mungo to venture closer to her: a risky thing should he wish to avoid the sharpness of her female tongue. "It is bothering you, cousin." The ginger furred Wookie followed her gaze to the spot where she had located the injured child. "And the remedy is in your own hands." "I do not understand what drives youngsters to turn upon their own in such a manner." Flint shook her head, her top lip curling in disgust. "If something is done that merits a beating then it is down to the adults to issue such punishment. Even then it is something that should be supervised, not left to mob-like, bloodthirsty savages! This would never have happened on Kashyyyk!" "We are not on Kashyyyk, cousin." Mungo commented sadly. "Our laws do not apply here, even if our standards govern the way that we live. Alas, we cannot expect others to abide by them." "More's the pity." Came back Flint's terse reply. "The galaxy would be a better place for it! And I do not believe that Corellian child deserved the beating she received! She looked very small and vulnerable. It was as if the bigger ones were bullying the littler one just because they could. And I do not like this, cousin! I do not like it at all! Especially not in my backyard!" Mungo was tempted to remind her that technically it was his backyard, not hers, but decided that splitting hairs at that point would not be considered the safest of moves, not when she was armed with that vicious looking broom! Still, if it helped her to see the correct way forward Mungo would be only too happy to hold his tongue! "I like Corellians." Flint gave the Wookie equivalent of a derisive sniff as if pronouncing judgement on those who did not share her opinion. "They are loyal and have great sense of worth. And they put great store in their family! I believe that they are the closest thing a human can get to a Wookiee! Do you know, I believe I shall contact the infirmary, cousin. I wish to make certain that the little human girl is well taken care of. After all, she was found in our cantina yard. I think that makes her one of us, do you not agree?" Mungo bared his teeth in an approximation of a Wookiee grin. Success! Flint turned her back upon the shadows in the yard of the Monastery, striding purposefully back towards the cantina with a new spring in her shaggy legs. Mungo watched her pass, still grinning in triumph. "I do not know why you are smiling, cousin." Flint thrust the broom into his open palm as she walked past him. "The yard still needs sweeping…" "… Some sort of wiggly parasites you get by drinking infected water…yeah, that's right. Master Ti-Metza came back with it, do you remember? From that mission to Scosarr last year. Mudball of a planet, I'd heard say…anyhow, it doesn't actually do much harm except that it's very distressing when you go to pay the fresher a visit and see all those tiny wriggly…yeah, I can imagine! Anyhow, next thing I know - Master An-Paj says Ambianca's picked up some kind of similar wormy thing! Can't think how she got it…I mean she never goes out on fieldwork, does she? Then Master An says that…hang on, I think he's coming. I'll catch you later Tanni! Take care! Bye for now!" Simeon quickly shut down the picture, pretending far too hard for his own good that he'd not been doing anything he shouldn’t have, tidying the shelves perhaps a little too thoroughly to be convincing. Even assuming An-Paj didn't know him terribly, which he did, that should have been enough to alert even the most trusting of minds to the fact that Simeon was up to no good. As he entered the reception room An-Paj closed one eye, seizing his padawan up. "I don't like that innocent look, Simeon." The man declared with an accusative gesture of his antennae straight towards the apprentice. "What look is that, master?" Asked the uncomfortable teenager, shuffling from foot to foot. "The one that says that you are guilty as charged. Probably of everything imaginable." "Master," Simeon stared crossly back at him, folding his arms in chagrin, "Everyone knows that I am sweet and innocent!" "Is that why you've been making calls instead of fielding them?" Replied An-Paj with a calmness that caused Simeon to shudder involuntarily. "Padawan, this is a place of healing for the sick and injured. This is not 'Cates Dune-Pizza Emporium' or 'Jedi Reunited'. I don't mind you making calls but kindly do not do so whilst you are supposedly on duty. Please?" He added in a friendly voice to show that he was not trying to sound like an ogre. "I don't know what you mean, master." Simeon shifted awkwardly again from side to side. An-Paj pointed at the holoterminal. "Has Padawan Welasa not got anything better to do with his free time than trade gossip with you? I thought he and Master Ashdal were on a mission, anyway?" "He is." "And what mission would that be? A mission to see who can run up the biggest Holonet bill? If I find you've been making thousands of personal calls young man, I will see that you pay it back by scrubbing floors from now until you reach knighthood. Is that understood?" Simeon swallowed. "Yes sir." "Good! Now at least we might be getting somewhere." An-Paj's eyes wandered over to the flickering red light on the consul alerting him to the fact there was a backlog of several unviewed recorded messages, and one individual that was currently trying to get through as he spoke. "You'd better pray that none of those are emergencies…although I suppose," he added perhaps a touch ironically "the likelihood is that its one of your friends calling in from Corellia to let you know that the Blades won the Gabali match against the Alderaan Acklays 25-13…" "Actually it was 35-10." Grinned Simeon with an apologetic smirk. "Allegedly. Not that I would know…I'll tell you what, I'll just answer the…er…" He pointed at the terminal, walking back to the activate transmission button, flicking it down with the force. Much to his surprise the holo transmitter flickered into life in the shape of a Wookiee female whose features Simeon considered somewhat familiar. He squinted at her for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Was that…could it be??? "Master, that's the Wookiee!" Simeon cried in delight, stabbing a delighted finger in the direction of the image. "The Wookiee female that brought Jemmy into the temple! I'm sure it is!" An-Paj regarded the face for a moment in silence. Yes, he too had seen this Wookie before some place. As a patient perhaps? Maybe there was a way of tracing her from the records… "How long has the poor woman been on hold?" Demanded An-Paj crustily. "Let's hear what she has to say!" Simeon, on hearing what sounded like irritation begin to creep into his master's voice needed no further bidding, removing the 'hold' function which finally allowed the frustrated Wookie to give voice to her concerns, of which it seemed there were many! "About time!" Her brown nose wrinkled with displeasure. "It is as well that I am not sick! I have tried seven times to reach you and left messages for the past hour for someone to get in touch, but have heard nothing. I am heartily displeased!" "Simeon, get a mop and clean the corridor floor until I can see your face in it begging for mercy." Instructed An-Paj simply, watching as his padawan slunk meekly out of his sight and leaving him totally alone with his caller. That boy! That infuriating, bewildering boy! He was taking years off him and no mistake. "I'm sorry about that, madam." An-Paj apologized, regarding the Wookiee's blue, static-lined image wavering on the projector. "I'm afraid my padawan has much to learn when it comes to dealing with patients in general, and Wookiee patients in particular!" At the joke in light of the deference shown to most Wookiees in regard to their reputation for toughness, Flint's features relaxed into a smile. "Indeed." She replied. "I hope he lives long enough not to repeat the mistake with some less sympathetic lifeform! But enough of such matters, I have called to enquire as to the health of the small Corellian being that I brought in to the infirmary not so long ago." An-Paj nodded quietly to himself. So, Simeon had been right after all. "It is to your credit that you show such concern." The healer ventured, thinking how terrible it was when total strangers offered more sympathy than certain jedi he could think of. "I know the child you speak of. Her name is Jemmiah Gleshan…" "Yes, yes! I remember!" Flint exclaimed delightedly. "That is the one! How does she fare?" "She is making steady progress," An-Paj revealed slowly, "and should be allowed out of the infirmary in a day or so. The bacta has worked well for her and her physical scars are healing well…" "That is excellent news." Replied Flint; evidently happy with what she was hearing. "I was indeed most worried!" "…But her mental scars may take longer to mend." Flint's brows collided in confusion. "I do not understand." She replied after a time. "What mental scars are these that you speak of?" "As a child Jemmiah would no doubt feel great concern for the manner of her attack, perhaps worrying if it might happen again should the perpetrator escape justice." The healer felt his way cautiously with the conversation, not delighting in the way that he was manipulating the Wookiee into giving some kind of evidence but knowing all the same that it was the best thing for Jemmiah. "She will have no peace of mind until the miscreant is brought to book. And as she cannot tell us who was responsible for the attack - for she has no memory of the incident - I fear that this will only prolong her recovery. It is a most terrible thing to be left partly amnesiac as a result of trauma. The effects can last a long time…if only there was some kind of witness to the attack that might shed light on it…" He watched Flint flinch in surprise. Gotcha, he thought! "But I saw some of what happened. I believe," the Wookiee rubbed her hairy hands together in excitement at the thought of being able to help, "that I actually broke up the attack! A group of children wearing the same kind of clothing as the poor child you have in your infirmary…all standing around in a circle, kicking and stamping…one in particular who had the nerve to stare me straight in the face!" Flint puffed out her chest importantly, still not able to get over the temerity and barefaced cheek of the child in question! "But I told them to go away and then they ran off, even the one like a Gamorrean pig! I do not think they understood what I said but they knew that I meant business! And then," Flint's voice became wondrously gentle, "they left behind the injured, small one whom they had turned upon so hatefully." An-Paj sighed as Flint gave her account. It tallied more or less with the conclusions he himself had drawn. There was simply no other motive for an attack on Jemmiah: she carried no money and so was not a real target in that sense. An abductor would not have left her beaten and alive to tell the tale. Had it been somebody that was possibly searching for her, like the spectral and sinister Rufus Merdan, Jemmiah would simply have vanished off the streets never to be seen again. The only thing that had made any sense was the school gang attack theory - confirmed more or less by the size of shoe print that had stamped down upon her bare arm. Evla had likewise come round to see it that way, too. The only thing they had been waiting for was confirmation from Jemmiah herself, and this she either could not or would not give. "Will you report your account to the CCID?" An-Paj optimistically asked the Wookiee. "I'm afraid that this is a criminal matter, and should be treated as one no matter what the age of the people involved. The only way to stop this from happening again is to cut out the rot before it spreads…" Flint considered, eyes flickering back and forth as she took in the sincere and earnest expression of the master healer. She hadn't banked on getting mixed up in something so big when she'd volunteered to contact the infirmary, yet she could not bear to think of the poor Corellian girl facing a similar ordeal some months down the line. The healer was correct - it had to be stopped. And deep down it gave Flint a lot of personal satisfaction that she was the one to do it! "I will do as you suggest." Flint bowed respectfully. "And tell the little human cub to keep her chin up! I will sort this problem out once and for all…" |
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