A/N: This is a story that I wrote more than a year ago and posted on LucasForums. Since it's lying about, I figured, what the hey, let's post it;p I hope you enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated :)
The Sith assassin shifted uneasily. It had been a highly unusual mission, and he was quite not sure what he should make of it. The master had his reasons, as Malak had discovered the hard way. When Malak had attempted to thwart this particular mission, the master had torn Malak's jaw off with bare hands. All things considered, Malak had gotten off lightly. He had been sure that the master would kill Malak, slowly and painfully, or allow his gleeful assassin droid to terminate "the tall meatbag". The metallic smell of Malak's blood was still vivid in his mind, as was the master's enraged voice as he choked Malak. "There is a reason behind my every action, Malak, and I will not have you interfere with my plans!"
Nevertheless, Darth Revan offered no explanation and no one could or would speculate on his motives. Who could fathom the mind behind the mask?
The guard stationed by the door nodded to him, and he made his way in. Without a second thought, he prostrated himself before the figure standing before him. He could feel nothing from the man standing above him, but he knew that under the armour, an immense power blazed, only revealed to those who were about to meet Death.
"Report." The voice had a low, hypnotic cadence to it.
"The target is fine. She was almost assaulted by several men two days ago. They probably intended to rape her. We…disposed of them."
"Has she enough to eat?" The Dark Lord's gloved hands had clenched into fists behind his back.
"She was quite short of currency. She took a job as a dancer in the cantina, but it was abysmal, to say the least." He winced inwardly, thinking of the way the crowd had responded. "We made sure that she received payment, and we added a discreet amount as well. It should tide her over for a number of days."
"Does she suspect anything?" The Dark Lord began pacing, boots beating a steady rhythm on the cold metal.
"No, my Lord. We have been most subtle."
"Very well then. Maintain surveillance on her, and intervene where necessary to keep her safe. Should she come to any harm…" He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to.
The assassin pressed his forehead into the metal floor. "Yes, my Lord." When the gloved hand gestured dismissively, he scuttled out of the bridge. What was this woman's importance to the Lord?
A cold whisper swept through his mind, and he wondered no more.
I could feel my heart pounding as the darkness descended. They swooped around me, silent as always, unseen, but so very present.
"Show yourself!" I clenched my fists and waited for them to strike, gathering the Force to me. Such a pathetic gesture, and it was all I had.
For several minutes, nothing happened. Then they plunged into me, bleeding their darkness into every part of me, methodically analyzing what they found.
They focused on her, one by one, latching onto the memories I had of her, my feelings for her.
A weakness.
The ship shuddered violently as I awakened, lashing out at the shadow creatures through the Force. Alarms began blaring while brisk military voices assessed the situation loudly, heavy feet tramping past giving the light passing through the doorframe a strange stroboscopic quality. They did not dare to intrude into my room, which was wise. The last time that had happened, it had not gone well for the trooper.
Calm down, Revan. It's just that dream again, for the umpteenth time.
I went to the window, shivering slightly in the cold. The galaxy stretched before me, countless stars orbited by countless worlds, their faint light incapable of banishing the darkness of the space. She was out there, somewhere. Was she safe? I couldn't tell. Not anymore.
I felt it, from so far away. The cry. And then, the silence. It tore through me and left me gasping for breath on the floor and then it was gone, a painful emptiness where the bond had been.
Lei. She had activated the mass shadow generator.
I pulled myself to my feet, using the table for support. Malak lurched in. He too, had felt it. His voice was slurred. "Wh – what was that?"
I ignored him and called for my lieutenant. "Tell all reserves to join the battle now. I'm turning command of this battle over to Admiral Karath. All ships with Jedi troops are to disengage and head for Malachor V. Now!"
The lieutenant began barking out orders. I clung to the wall and called for her, but there was no reply. I was…alone.
Did I make the right choice?
Her influence helped the troops under her command resist me. They would not have followed me blindly; their loyalty was to her instead. I knew that they were a liability, so they became bait for a trap, and they died by the thousands to spring it. She should have broken then, driven insane by their death-cries and I would have been able to keep my one vulnerability close to me. She should have joined me in my downward spiral, master and apprentice. But she didn't. Rather than fall, or be driven mad, she found the strength to cut herself off from the storm.
I betrayed her.
In retrospect, I suppose that I should have expected the outcome. She was stronger than the masters gave her credit for, and in the end, I made the same mistake as they did.
But that doesn't change the fact that I betrayed her.
It still hurts, even now. Two years have passed, yet the emptiness she left still gnaws at me. When I put on the mask, I can suppress it into a dull ache. But I can't hide behind the mask all the time. Still, I make sure that I'm always alone when it comes off. I can't trust anyone now. It's the first lesson I learned as a traitor.
The last person to see me unmasked was her.
I heard the commotion outside progressing towards the bridge. Malak headed for the door, and it hissed open just as he reached for the control. My breath caught in my throat when I saw her standing in the doorway, blood trickling down her arms from where she had ripped out the tubes connecting her to various machines. Malak grabbed her roughly by the arm, and she stumbled.
"Unhand her. All of you are dismissed." I was surprised at how steady my voice was. The echo within her resonated inside me as well. It was frightening, seeing her this way. She had been so in tune with the Force, and now she was deaf to it. And it was my fault.
Malak glared at her with venom. She stared back, pale and defiant. The door slid shut, and I did not bother locking it. I knew we would not be disturbed. She swayed slightly on her feet, and clutched at a nearby console to maintain her balance.
"Why have you come? You need rest, nourishment."
"You know why, Revan." Her voice was hoarse but still unmistakable, evoking a thousand memories that I had buried. She staggered towards me, and her legs gave out before she had even covered half the distance. I caught her before she hit the floor. Focusing, I staunched the bleeding from her self-inflicted wounds. Those machines had kept her alive before I had brought her back from the brink. It was funny, how I could feel gratitude to machines. Not only to the machines, but also to the medical officer who had stayed by her side for the two long days before we pulled out of hyperspace above Malachor V, to the tech who caught her when she fell.
The paper-thin medbay gown was woefully inadequate for the chill of deep space; she shivered in my arms, her painfully thin limbs jerking spasmodically. Doffing my cloak took a matter of seconds, and I wrapped her securely in its warmth.
Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay conscious. I cradled her close, and she reached for the mask. I caught her hand, and she did not have the strength to fight me.
"Revan." It was barely a whisper.
I pulled the mask off slowly. It slipped from nerveless fingers and clanged to the floor loudly. Staring at it, a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm me. What had I become? I did not want her to see me this way.
She ran her fingers across my cheeks, following the faint tracery of veins under my skin. I kept my eyes averted. Would she understand? Perhaps she would, but it would be better if she did not. It would be easier to protect her.
"Look at me. Revan. Please."
I looked at her then, right into those dark eyes, and watched the tears well up. The tears distorted my reflection, but even then, I could see my eyes reflected in hers. The yellow eyes that marked me more surely than anything else could.
"You've fallen." The tears spilled over, and I wiped them away gently. "Why? What are you going to do?"
I did not answer her; instead, I placed the tips of my fingers against her forehead and guided her mind into gentle sleep. "Sleep. And turn away from me. Forget me. I… am glad that you did not fall. Be safe, Lei."
She resisted, of course, but she was weakened from her ordeal. As she slid into dreamless slumber, I brushed the loose strands of dark hair away from her face and simply watched her. This would be the last time I would see her. She would be safer away from me.
After a time – I cannot say how long - I slid my mask into position and relinquished her to the medical officer waiting outside. Then I left without looking back.
The game awaited me.
I had always been good at dejarik, but this was a three-way game where one of the opponents had not even revealed itself. The Republic was already on the verge of collapse; as I had predicted, it was a weak foe. Once I had control of the Core Worlds, the true war could commence.
I don't know what I will find. I know only two things about the shadow-creatures. The first is that they had driven the Mandalorians to war. I had felt their dark currents in the Mandalore and a few other Mandalorians in command. Secondly, they built the academy on Malachor V and numerous other structures. All of the monumental edifices bore the taint of a blackness that permeated the essence of the structures, yet they had been abandoned for centuries. Everything else was an enigma. What would the corporeal forms of those shadows look like? Do they have an army? How large is it? How great is their power? If they could analyze me as they had in my dream, if they knew of her, then they would hurt her: a quick and efficient way to hold me in their power.
You think too much, Revan.
She always said it with a wry smile. Something in my chest constricted painfully. I rested my forehead against the glass and fought back tears.
They would never have the chance, I vowed. If they, or anyone, harmed her…My reflection in the window-glass stared back at me grimly. A faint hum filled the room as a datapad fell off my desk and clattered to the floor, every piece of furniture in the room oscillating at a high frequency. I concentrated on my breathing, regaining my composure slowly.
I begin pulling on my armour, piece by piece. My troops regard it as vestments of a Sith Lord, but I am not a Sith, nor am I a Jedi. I just do what I must. I devised new ways to shield my mind when I found the knowledge of both the Jedi and the Sith lacking. I walked the dark places of this galaxy, seeking answers to questions that still haunt me. I orchestrated the fall of innumerable Jedi. I will conquer the Republic, and prepare the galaxy for what is to come.
She doesn't know it though. She thinks I betrayed the Republic. It is technically correct, but the Republic would have fallen to the shadows anyway. I cannot hope to defend a lumbering machine that operates on the warped logic of bureaucracy.
She thinks that I betrayed her. I did, and I cannot justify it. How could I have done that to her?
A sacrifice, I whisper to myself. She had been one, as I was now. She still would have been wounded, even if things had gone my way.
There was that bitter taste in my mouth again. It was so ironic, how I hurt her despite the fact that I did everything for a reason. I wish she knew why. I wish I had told her.
I do not hope that she will forgive me, but there was, and still is, a reason behind my every action.
My reason is her.
I settle the mask on my face, and hide my reason from the galaxy.