Precipice
"Hey," Canderous Ordo said shortly as he stood by his weapons locker in the hull of the Ebon Hawk, inspecting his rifle to make sure it would still shoot straight. "Can I ask you a question?"
The man across from him had his arms crossed over his chest and eyes fixed to the floor in thought, but looked up at the sound of the Mandalorian's voice.
"Go ahead."
"If Malak's turned her…"
"He hasn't."
Canderous bit his tongue to keep from sighing audibly at the tedious show of faith from the former Dark Lord of the Sith. Having justified faith in those you fought alongside was one thing, and honorable at that, but blind faith was dangerous. Blind faith skewed your judgment, and skewed judgment got you killed.
"If Malak's turned her," the Mandalorian repeated, more firmly this time, "What are you going to do about it?"
Revan's shrug was barely visible; it was more of a shoulder spasm, tightly-controlled, and the mark of a soldier who'd spent almost his whole life wrestling with difficult choices. Choices like whether starting a Civil War and burning a swath of carnage through half of the galaxy was worth gaining the power to stave off a potentially even bigger threat looming on the horizon.
"If she's turned, then I'll turn her back," the Jedi said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Canderous couldn't keep a reaction at bay this time, and scoffed.
"You say that like she's you, Revan," he countered bluntly. "Just in case you haven't noticed it by now, she's not. You're a once-in-a-generation genius, she's a scared little girl with a chip on her shoulder the size of this goddamn spaceship. Do you really think that once she breaks—and break she will, I'll promise you that much—you'll be able to put her back together again? It doesn't work that way, Revan."
"So what, would you rather I cut her head off?" the Jedi snapped back, shades of his old self floating to the surface of his dark eyes in the moment of anger. "What would the Republic do without her abilities, Canderous? Even if I defeat Malak, do you honestly think the Republic has enough strength in it to crush Malak's Armada without Bastila's Battle Meditation?"
Rather than reply immediately, Canderous leaned back and fixed Revan with one of those smug smiles that the Jedi had come to know meant their argument was coming to a swift and unfavorable conclusion.
"See?" he said slyly, "you're doing it already."
"Doing what?"
"Shifting it away from you, Revan," the Mandalorian pressed. "Making it something other than what it obviously is: personal. You can hide behind the Republic and the War all you want, but when it comes down to it, you just can't face the thought of having to stab your lightsaber into her chest."
Revan began to pace, something he did often when he was trying to restrain his dormant killer instincts, the call of the Dark Side. Canderous was never afraid to stand on the knife's edge, though—it was the place he loved being most of all.
"You realize you're asking me to go back to my old ways, Canderous," the Jedi said after a moment, his pacing not stopping. "The ways that almost destroyed your people entirely."
The Mandalorian shook his head, putting down his rifle now that he was satisfied it would work at peak efficiency.
"I'm not asking you to do shit, Revan," he countered with a typical soldier's eloquence. "I'm asking you to be prepared to do what you have to, if there are no other options."
Revan finally ceased to pace and sighed, his stoic exterior beginning to crack as he heard the truth in Canderous's words. As much as he wanted to believe that Bastila could be redeemed, that she would choose him over the power that Malak would no doubt offer her, the Jedi also knew the lure of the Dark Side. He knew it as well as he knew himself, for he had once stood at its core; embraced it, personified it. Loved it.
And it was a very, very difficult thing to resist.
"I never thought I would say this, kid," the wizened voice of Jolee Bindo broke in from a nearby doorway, "but I agree with the Mandalorian. There's a difference between cutting down a defenseless, defeated opponent and killing someone fair and square in a lightsaber duel, Revan. If Bastila turns, and if she fights you, she's not gonna be reminiscing on the good times we all shared while she does it. She's going to be out for your blood. Fighting her with anything less than the intent to kill her is tantamount to suicide."
"You think I don't know that?" Revan snapped, finally losing his cool even though his voice didn't rise. But rather than continue his thought, Revan fell silent again.
Part of me would be happy to kill her, the Jedi told himself frankly as he pushed his emotions to the side, hoping the objective serenity of meditation would help him focus. More than part of me would be happy. She ripped my life away from me. All of those years, gone like they never even existed.
I didn't even know who I really was until five days ago, when Malak spat it in my face. But she knew. She knew and she hid the truth from me. Because she couldn't trust me, no matter how many times I saved her from getting herself killed.
"Yes, Canderous," Revan spoke again, the oppressive aura of the Force lifting from around him as he broke his silence and found his determination, "I'm prepared to kill Bastila. I've had 15 years of preparation for that, from the moment I turned my back on the Order up until right now. But if I were you, I'd pray to whatever gods you believe in that Bastila lives through this."
"And why's that?" Canderous asked, relief plain in his voice as the thick cloak of Revan's power dissipated into the ether.
"Because as much as part of me hates her, Canderous," Revan answered, "I'm not blind or stupid enough to deny that the rest of me loves that infuriating woman. And right now, that's about the only thing keeping me from breaking and reclaiming my old title—and I don't think any of us want that to happen."
"No, Revan, you're certainly right about that," Jolee said. "You falling again, and now of all times, is the last thing any of us want or need."
Revan was still for a moment, his eyes unfocused as he retreated deep within himself. No doubt he was getting ready for the assault to come, and his comrades held their peace. And then the Jedi blinked, sighed, looked up and smiled, and it was as if his earlier outburst had never even happened.
"Well, glad we're all on the same page, then," Revan said, the same light back in his eyes that always burned whenever he was focused on a mission.
"Let's get this thing over with; I'm not about to leave the fate of my Republic in the hands of those bureaucratic Generals."
The turn of phrase caused Jolee to raise a white eyebrow, and when he spoke his tone was decidedly guarded.
"Your Republic, Revan?" he asked pointedly. "I'm not sure I like the sound of where you're going with that, kid."
The other Jedi just laughed, punching in the coordinates to the Star Forge and warming up the Hyperdrive.
"I was joking, old man," Revan said, the cocksure grin on his face that had always appeared towards the end of lightsaber duels, when his victory had been certain. "Lighten up. It's just the fate of the galaxy at stake—business as usual, no?"
Jolee couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at the sheer long odds that must have been working against a moment like this ever happening.
"I gotta hand it to you, Revan," he said. "I might not always agree with how you do things, but you are one fearless, charismatic son of a bitch."
The younger Jedi laughed, not even flinching as the Hyperdrive engaged and began to warp space-time itself around them.
"That's why they called me 'Sir', Jolee," he said. "Feel free to start doing so yourself whenever you like."
"How big is this damn ship?" Canderous grunted in frustration, feeling the weight of his large blaster beginning to tire his arms as the latest round of stimulants wore off. "We look like we're back where we were three hours ago!"
"And you expected an Empire-building engine of galactic conquest to be small, Mandalorian?" Jolee countered, managing to crack wise even as sweat trickled down his forehead and parts of his robe were singed and stained with blood. The two comrades looked about ready to go at each other's throats despite their injuries, but Revan's raised hand stopped them both in their tracks.
"She's here," he said, walking forward a few more steps and placing his hand against the steel door that looked like every single other one they'd walked through. "I can feel it."
"She Dark?" Jolee asked, and Revan hesitated for a moment before nodding almost wearily.
"Yeah. Listen, can you two hold down this choke point for me?" the Jedi asked. "I need to do this alone, and I don't want any interference getting in the way."
Canderous and Jolee nodded as one, renewed determination showing in their postures at their leader's request.
"You just do what you have to, Revan," Canderous said with a short nod. "We'll buy you all the time you need."
"What he said, kid," Jolee added with a small smile. "Good luck, and may the Force be with you."
"And also with you," Revan answered, before opening the door and stepping through it. The two warriors saw a glimpse of Bastila sitting on the floor, legs crossed and eyes closed in the position of Battle Meditation, before the door slammed shut with a dull clank and left Jolee and Canderous alone.
"You've traveled with him longer than I have, so lemme ask you," the Jedi said seriously. "D'you think he can pull this off?"
Canderous smiled, his dark eyes illuminated by the stark shadows the Star Forge's sickly light cast on his gaunt face.
"I've seen Revan fight countless battles, Jedi," the Mandalorian replied, "and not once did he ever lose a battle he wasn't forfeiting on purpose. He snatched victory out of situations so helpless they would have made even our top brass give up, and it got to the point that his enemies were afraid of driving Revan into a corner because that was where he thrived. And do you know what each and every single one of those fights had in common, Jedi?"
"What?"
Canderous's smile just widened.
"None of them were even personal. He wasn't fighting for money, or love, or even self-preservation—he was fighting out of a desire to fulfill an obligation to everyone else in the galaxy. And he never lost. But this, this fight… this is as personal as it ever gets. Revan is fighting for himself this time, Jedi. There's no way in hell he's going to lose."
"Unless he wants to lose, though," Jolee pointed out. "Unless he values Bastila's redemption higher than his own life."
Before the Mandalorian could reply, the sound of boots clanging on metal thundered down the corridor, and the two warriors soon found themselves face-to-face with a fresh squad of battle droids and Dark Jedi.
"Well, I sure as hell hope he doesn't," Canderous said as he unloaded a volley of laser bolts into the heart of the enemy ranks, "because I get the feeling we're going to tire out before they do."
"You need to take a break, Canderous?" Jolee quipped, igniting the blade of his green lightsaber and readying the healing power of the Force in his other hand. "How very un-Mandalorian of you."
The seasoned warrior sneered, vigor flowing back into his veins as white healing light enveloped him for a moment before fading away.
"Just shut up and fight, you old gasbag," he growled, and Jolee chuckled as he threw a burst of stunning force at the enemy.
"Took the words out of my mouth, Mandalorian," he said, the two comrades exchanging one last look before Canderous holstered his blaster on his back, drawing the double-bladed sword at his hip as they leaped forward to face the enemy.
Revan felt the Force fluctuating around the battle going on behind the door that had just closed shut, but he pushed that out of his mind. Canderous and Jolee were strong, veteran fighters; they could hold their own, and he had more pressing things to worry about.
"Hello, Bastila."
Bastila Shan opened her eyes at the sound of Revan's voice and stood, giving her former ally a half-bow as she did so.
"Revan," she said evenly, all of the life and passion completely frozen from her voice. "Lord Malak told me to expect you, but I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to actually come for his head."
"I didn't," Revan countered, part of him feeling intense regret at the state of the Dark Jedi before him, while the rest of him couldn't help but notice how good she looked in black. "I came for someone else, Bastila. Malak is just a necessary obstacle to remove; nothing more."
Bastila laughed, the twisted sound serving only to amplify Revan's feeling of regret. Even if he had succeeded in redeeming himself, he'd failed utterly in saving Bastila from falling.
"Are you telling me you're here to save me, Revan?" she spat at him. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't want saving and I don't need it—Lord Malak has shown me what power is, in ways you can't even imagine!"
Bastila smiled, warped and cruel as she ignited her double-bladed red lightsaber, not flinching or taking a step back in the face of Revan's advance. And despite everything that had happened, the former Dark Lord couldn't help but feel proud at how much Bastila had grown from the first time they'd met.
"I can't believe you, Revan," she scoffed, shifting her stance subtly but firmly into a position the other Jedi recognized instantly as Vapaad, the Aggression Form. "You used to be the beacon of light for the Sith, and now you're nothing more than a mouthpiece for the Jedi's dogma."
"Sounds to me like Malak's turned you into a fine mouthpiece himself, Bastila," Revan countered with a smirk, drawing his own single-bladed lightsaber, which bore the blue crystal of a Jedi Guardian. "Are you sure you want to go with that Form? It can leave a ton of openings if you don't know what you're doing."
"Are you insinuating something, Revan?"
"I don't make insinuations, Bastila," the Jedi said, shifting his own weapon into the defensive stance of Djem So, his preferred Form for duels like this one. And against someone wielding a double-bladed lightsaber, Revan was sure the defensive boost would be decidedly useful.
The Dark Jedi tried to brush off the insult Revan had leveled at her, unwilling to give him the advantage before the fight had even begun. But the snipe at her competence struck deep, in a way that only someone who knew her innermost insecurities could have struck, and the anger within Bastila blazed furiously to life. Channeling it into her lightsaber, she charged forward with a shout and attacked.
Revan took the brunt of the initial strike and leaned back with the blow, surprised at just how hard it had hit. He'd seen Bastila fight countless times, and had sparred with her on several occasions, but she'd never fought with this much raw energy before. He pushed back and tested her defense with a few light strikes, and found that it had also improved considerably.
"If you think that middling Form can break through my guard, Revan," Bastila shot back, "you're in for a disappointment. Only by feeding on your anger do you have any hope of defeating me now."
Revan said nothing, letting his lightsaber speak for him as he increased the force behind his strikes and went specifically for the places he knew the defense would be softest; Bastila's double blades were powerful and versatile, but the length that was their strength was also their weakness. With such a large weapon, there was no way for the wielder to spread their weight enough to fully absorb the shock of incoming attacks.
The Dark Jedi felt her feet giving ground and her eyes widened in surprise before narrowing again in anger. If Revan wanted to take his time and analyze the flow of the duel, she simply wouldn't give him the chance to do so. She rushed forward again with another shout, the two blades whirling fiercely in the air.
But this time Revan knew what to expect, and let the blade that struck out at him slide harmlessly off of his own lightsaber in a flawless block. The failed attack left Bastila wide open, and the Jedi capitalized with ruthless efficiency. Lashing out with one foot, the snap-kick slammed hard into Bastila's midsection, knocking the wind from her lungs and forcing the Dark Jedi to fly back in the nearby wall, doubled over. But rather than finish off his assault with a killing blow, Revan retreated back a few steps and waited.
Bastila remained silent as well, forcing herself to her feet and shaking her head to clear the light ringing from her ears. A small trickle of blood traced its way down to her chin from the corner of her mouth, but the Dark Jedi paid it no mind. Bringing her lightsaber to rest perpendicularly in front of her, Bastila gripped the hilt with both hands and twisted. There was a brief hiss as the steel clicked and seemed to fold back on itself, before the double-bladed lightsaber split into two, single-bladed lightsabers.
"I can assure you that these aren't just for show, Darth Revan," Bastila said acidly, pausing for a moment to focus the Force around her. "You might be able to read me easily when I fight you how I always have, but I wonder if you can adapt quickly enough to prevent me from killing you once I have these blades and the full power of the Star Forge at my back!"
At those words, a shock of energy arced into her from the surrounding metal of the Star Forge, and Revan could feel through the Force as her fatigue and injuries vanished.
"The Star Forge itself if a living sanctuary for the Dark Side," Bastila explained, readying her weapons for the next clash. "As long as I stand allied with the Dark, no matter how firmly you side with the Light, there is no hope for you here."
"Maybe, maybe not," Revan said thoughtfully, breaking his silence at last. "But you're no Malak, Bastila; the Dark Side isn't entrenched in you firmly enough yet to cushion the backlash from all of that energy rushing into you at once."
"Backlash?" Bastila asked, her eyes narrowing. "What are you blabbering abou—argh!"
Revan was silent again, looking on with pity as Bastila was forced to the floor once more by the pain that rushed through her body. It passed soon enough, but Bastila knew that she wouldn't be able to call on that power again; it left her vulnerable for far too long in exchange for its healing.
"Please, Bastila, stop," the Jedi implored his former ally. "I can handle fighting you, but it pains me to watch you weaken yourself with Dark Side energies to gain an edge in a battle you can't win. Stop," he said again, an openness in his eyes that hadn't shown there for decades. "I don't want to have to kill you."
"You make it sound like you'd actually do it, Revan," Bastila said with a grin, spinning her lightsabers around once in a flourish to ready them once more for attack. "If my life is the price I have to pay to see the former Dark Lord fight with his full strength at last, I'll give it up without regrets!"
The Dark Jedi lunged again, swinging both sabers down at once in a powerful pair of overhead strikes. Revan turned to the side to dodge one, and blocked the second with his lightsaber one-handed before using his free hand to send a shockwave into Bastila's gut point-blank. The Dark Jedi wretched, but didn't give up ground.
"Die!"
Bastila redoubled her assault, becoming nothing more than the eye at the center of a red hurricane that was the blur of her twin lightsabers. But Revan managed to dodge and parry every thrust and slash, his movements so fluid and graceful as to seem effortless.
"Do you know why I stopped fighting with two lightsabers, Bastila?" the Jedi asked as he continued to deflect the flurry of strikes, and Bastila frowned in anger. Revan was arrogant enough to assume that he had time to talk even now, in the midst of her assault?
"Because it goes to your head," the Jedi replied evenly, feeling the fluctuations in the Force from Jolee increasing and realizing he had to stop messing around and start taking this seriously if he cared about his allies surviving. "You start thinking you're untouchable, and the moment that happens is the moment you lose an arm."
Bastila just laughed and continued pressing her attack, determined to find some kind of gap in Revan's defenses.
Revan didn't even hear the sound; a wave of torturing guilt was rising up within him, threatening to crush his determination to kill the woman in front of him completely.
This is all my fault, he told himself as he deflected blow after blow, watching as his lover's face became more and more distorted with the anguish he knew she was feeling deep within her spirit.
It's my fault she's suffering like this, Revan forced himself to admit. My fault that Malak was able to break her. I can't kill her—not when I'm the only one who can take away her pain. I owe her that much for saving my life, at the very least.
And I know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that I couldn't live without her.
Bastila was so enveloped in her rage and frustration that it took the Dark Jedi a moment to realize that her barrage of attacks had stopped, and not by her own volition.
"There's another reason why I stopped using two blades, though," Revan said, his tone now far from casual and completely serious as he shifted his other hand to rest on the grip of his lightsaber, reinforcing the block that was holding both of Bastila's blades at bay.
"You lose the ability to defend effectively against strong strikes."
Bastila's eyes widened in shock as she felt the Force spike through Revan, its energy augmenting the strength in his arms. He shoved hard against the deadlock and broke it utterly, sending his opponent back on her heels. The Jedi pressed his attack this time, swinging with precise efficiency and crushing power as he pinpointed the flaws in Bastila's spread-out stance and exploited them with the ruthlessness that had earned him the title of Dark Lord of the Sith.
"You still have a choice, Bastila," Revan said as he advanced. "Put down your swords and renounce the Dark Side."
The blue blade hissed as it arced through the air again, this time hitting Bastila's off-hand lightsaber hard enough to dislodge the weapon from her grip.
But the loss of a single blade wasn't enough to faze Bastila, especially not when she was still holding another.
"It's not over yet, Revan!" Bastila shouted, tapping deep into her fury and lashing out once again, struggling with all of her remaining might to so much as wound her enemy, and failing even at that.
"No, not yet," the Jedi ceded as they continued to exchange strikes in a dizzying blur. "But it will be soon enough, Bastila. The Dark Side can't buoy you forever—its power lies in destruction, and not even its wielder is exempt from that."
"Shut up!" Bastila seethed, knowing that Revan's gradual use of psychological warfare was starting to wear her down, but too caught up in her rage to really care. But then the Dark Jedi's frown turned up into a smirk, a last idea forming in her mind.
"I didn't expect you to resort to using Dun Möch to try and break me down, Revan," she said contentiously. "That's not very Jedi-like of you."
"I consider myself more of a 'pragmatist' than a Jedi or a Sith, Bastila," Revan countered, switching his lightsaber style on the fly to Makashi in order to parry a nasty strike from his opponent.
"Damn it!" Bastila cursed, tears of frustration beginning to form at the corners of her eyes as she tried again and again to break through Revan's guard and met failure with each attempt. "Why… can't… I… hit you!?"
Sensing that the moment was finally right to bring the duel to a close, Revan waited for Bastila to lean far enough forward and stepped in to meet her, kicking hard at her back leg and throwing off her stance. Freeing up one of his hands again, the Jedi grabbed the front of Bastila's uniform, lifted her slightly into the air and slammed her hard against the wall, at the same point she'd made contact with it earlier in their fight. The impact jarred the other lightsaber from her hand, leaving her at Revan's mercy.
"Maybe you couldn't hit me because you didn't want to," Revan said, with surprising tenderness in his voice. He was using the tone that Bastila had only heard in the quiet moments they'd shared together, apart from the rest of the crew: when Revan had confided his doubts and fears about their mission, and about himself, to his closest comrade.
"I counted several exchanges during our duel where I left myself open at multiple points on purpose, and yet you never went for them. Was that your anger blinding you? I think it was your heart stilling your hand from doing something you knew you would regret, Bastila. You're still more Jedi than Sith."
"You're lying," Bastila spat back, defiant even though she knew, thinking back on their fight, that Revan was telling the truth. "If I'd been stronger, I could have killed you. I would have! I was too weak to give myself to the darkness, too afraid—"
The rest of the Dark Jedi's rant was stifled abruptly as Revan leaned forward and closed his mouth over Bastila's in a kiss. It was fierce and overpowering, finding the weak points in Bastila's strained resolve and hammering at them until they shattered.
It's okay, kid, he spoke gently through their bond, the wave of emotion that rose up within Bastila at the sudden crush of sensation almost overwhelming. It's okay. Let go. Let it go. Come back to me.
The fallen Jedi felt the call of Revan's will within her soul and wavered, torn between the stark certainty and cold simplicity of the darkness and the warm, chaotic and unpredictable force that was the love she and Revan had once shared.
I'm not going to force your hand, Bastila, Revan's voice spoke out again, so comforting it was almost painful. This is your choice to make, not mine. But if it makes any difference, you should know that even though sometimes I think you're absolutely insufferable, and sometimes you just don't know when to shut up and stop doubting yourself, I still love you. And it would really, really hurt to have to lose that, right after I finally felt just how nice it is.
Bastila heard the earnest confession from the man who had once been her bitterest enemy and was stunned. But the truth rang in every single one of Revan's words, leaving no room at all for doubt. She had come to admit to herself that she had loved him over the course of their journey, but never once had she dared to hope the feeling would be reciprocated. She had buried her emotions within herself as the Jedi Way had taught her, considered them shameful and shut them out. But now those same exiled emotions were surging up within her once again, and refused to be denied any longer.
"Damn you, you arrogant bastard," Bastila said softly, a small smile on her face. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Revan's voice laughed, growing hazier and more distant as he retreated from the space that linked their minds together.
I didn't think you were ready to hear it, he said, or maybe that was just me covering my ass because I wasn't ready to say it. I don't know, but I do know I'm telling you now… doesn't that count for something, at least…?
Bastila could feel the light disappearing from her mind slowly but surely; not even bothering to look back over her shoulder to where the darkness waited for her, the Jedi ran after the light and leapt towards it into the uncertainty where it had gone, confident it would be there to break her fall.
Revan waited as patiently as he could for Bastila to make her decision, but his heart was pounding in his chest as quickly as it had been the first day of his training as a Padawan at the Academy. He was afraid, even though he knew it would change nothing—afraid that the Force would decide his own redemption into the Light couldn't come without a price paid, and that his love for the woman standing in front of him would be that cost.
But then her eyes opened and he saw her, and all of his fear faded away. The darkness that had clouded her vision was gone, replaced with the vibrancy that she'd always possessed as a Jedi, even in the most hopeless of situations.
"Hey," Bastila said almost shyly, no doubt feeling guilty for what she'd tried to do just minutes previous.
"Hey," Revan replied easily, a smile on his face. "Good to have you back, Princess."
"Glad to be here," the redeemed Jedi said, relief in her voice as she didn't argue the use of her least favorite nickname for once. "I owe you one, Revan. More than one, to be honest. I don't deserve everything you've done for me."
"There you go again, being pointlessly self-deprecating," Revan countered, and Bastila frowned at him, a gesture the other Jedi still found incredibly precious. "I didn't do anything for you this time, Bastila; you pulled yourself out of that pit, and I couldn't be more proud of you for doing it. You're stronger than I ever was in that regard—it took a Mind Wipe for me to realize how wrong I'd been, but you turned yourself around the hard way.
"If you really want to pay me back, though," Revan said, "you can go reinforce Jolee and Canderous while I go deal with Malak. Once he's taken care of, use your Battle Meditation to swing this fight around in favor of the Republic."
"Consider it done," Bastila said determinately, calling her split lightsabers back to her hands with the Force and reuniting them into their original form. "Be careful, Revan," she continued, her tone changing to one of concern. "Malak might not be as strong as you, but he has some tricks up his sleeve that I'm sure he'll have no qualms about using to beat you."
"Right back at you, Bastila," the other Jedi said as he turned away, walking towards the door that led to the heart of the Star Forge, where his former student no doubt waited for him. "You get killed by some hack Dark Jedi, and I'll make sure your spirit knows no peace."
"I'll keep that in mind," Bastila shot back with a smirk, before turning and walking towards the other door that led out to the two outnumbered warriors making their last stand. Pausing one last time, she made to say something, but thought better of it and walked through the door without another word.
Revan smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he meditated for a moment on how far he'd come, from Jedi Knight to Dark Lord of the Sith and back again. But his journey wasn't done yet. There was still one last battle to fight, one more bond to sever. And even though he knew Malak was corrupted, hateful and twisted, Revan couldn't help but feel heaviness in his heart as he walked through the door and slowly down the long hallway that stretched out before him. He had been the one to lead Malak down the Dark path in the first place; everything his friend and former apprentice had done, all the blood he had spilled, fell on Revan's hands by association.
He just hoped that when he faced the current Sith Lord, he wouldn't have to kill him—Revan had too few friends left as it was, and certainly none who understood him as well as Malak.
Revan also hoped, however, that such understanding wouldn't lead to his own death in the end.
Malak felt the Force signature of his former best friend and teacher approaching the room's only door, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. It had been most unfortunate that Bastila had gotten in the way of their first reunion, but now there was no one to stand between the two warriors, and the fate of the Sith would finally be decided. Malak had felt the stigma of having attacked Revan's flagship by surprise gnawing at the back of his mind ever since he'd taken up the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith for himself. He knew there was no shame in utilizing any method to achieve victory, but it left the question of whether or not he could best Revan in a fair fight, in the true Sith way, painfully unanswered. Soon he would have his answer, and Malak was confident he already knew what that answer would be.
The door in front of him opened with a hiss, revealing the mask-less face of his bygone ally. Malak felt his lightsaber hand twitch in anticipation as his heart began to beat faster, his body instinctively readying him for intensive combat. Revan walked slowly into the room, his eyes locked on Malak's and not so much as twitching the entire walk from the room's entrance to only a few paces outside the reach of the Sith Lord's lightsaber.
"I don't suppose," the Jedi opened, his voice laden with regret, "that there's any way I can convince you not to fight me, Malak?"
The Sith laughed, his voice sharp with spite.
"Don't tell me you've turned into a spineless coward as well as a traitor, Revan," Malak shot back. "Why would you ever want to back down from a fight? Afraid that the Jedi have dulled your instincts? Afraid that the truth is I'm just better than you?"
"I'm not afraid of anything, Malak," Revan replied calmly. "I'm only sorry that it had to come this far for me to realize how to leave the Dark Side behind. I pulled you down with me, and I had no right to trample over you to climb back up into the light. I damned you, my friend, and for that I can ask only for your forgiveness."
The Sith Lord waited for the continuation, but when it didn't come he laughed again, the sound much more hollow and hateful than his first outburst had been.
"Are you seriously wasting my time with this, Revan?" Malak spat. "You're clearly much more addled than I thought; if you've fallen deep enough into the Jedi's clutches to think that I have it within me to forgive, or that I desire any forgiveness in return."
"Strange words coming from you, my old friend," Revan said. "You were a Jedi once, remember? Take it from me, Malak: no matter how deeply you plunge your heart into the darkness, a shred of light always remains."
Malak let the harsh sound of his igniting lightsaber speak as his retort to his former comrade's last plea, lunging forward in an aggressive opening thrust without another word. Revan drew his own blade and blocked the strike a few inches from slicing into his shoulder, and Malak chuckled.
"That was slower than usual for you, Revan," he hissed. "What's wrong, did my apprentice give you a harder fight than you were expecting?"
"Bastila was never your apprentice, Malak," the Jedi countered stoically, pushing back at his opponent and forcing Malak to adopt the defensive. "You managed to sway her for a moment, but deep down her heart was always with the Light." It was always with me.
"Spare me your dogmatic drivel, Revan," Malak said curtly, evening the contest in a quick, efficient series of strikes that wasted no movement whatsoever. Revan could see the ghosts of his own technique in his friend's attacks, but Malak had modified the core tenets his teacher had given him to suit his own style.
"I have no need for the Jedi—not while I possess the power of this Star Forge!"
Revan sighed deeply as he heard the fury in Malak's voice: his old friend was much more twisted than Bastila had been, and the only way the Jedi could see now to redeem the fallen Sith could only be attempted after Malak lacked the strength to fight. Which meant that, despite his misgivings, Revan would have to beat that strength out of his former comrade himself.
"Very well," the old Sith Lord said to the new, gaining a few steps of distance backwards and readying his lightsaber. "Let's see how much of a help to you the Star Forge is, Malak."
The warriors clashed again, Malak's angry slashes and lunges battering punishingly against Revan's calculated, balanced defense.
"Where's the energy you used to fight with, Revan?" the Sith asked as they stood face-to-face in a deadlock, their lightsabers gnashing between them so close that Revan could feel the heat of the blades. "You used to love the prospect of a battle; you relished the possibility that the next opponent could be the one to finally match your skills, or even surpass them. But now, even as you face such an opponent, your eyes are dead! It's pathetic!"
"We clearly have differing definitions of 'enthusiam', Malak," the Jedi answered as the deadlock broke and he went back on the offensive. "I never looked forward to a single battle I fought during the War—they were stepping stones, means to a greater end; all of those sacrifices deserve to be mourned and honored, not piled high as trophy mounds.
"I see now that that's the rift between us, my friend," Revan continued, speaking even as he shifted his lightsaber to one hand and used the other to block and deflect a bolt of Force Lightning Malak shot at him. "I did what I had to do because I knew there was no other way to combat the threat that loomed over the horizon—you fell with me, but in falling you lost sight of the reason we sacrificed everything to begin with."
Malak laughed again, his eyes burning with scorn.
"Still playing the victimized martyr in your head, Revan?" he countered, as their lightsabers continued to spin and whirl and clash, seeking an opening neither one could find. "The sooner you admit to yourself that you took the Dark path because of the power it offered you, the sooner you can die at peace with yourself."
"I never said that I didn't seek power, Malak," the Jedi said. "That was exactly why I turned my back on the Order to begin with. But the power itself is meaningless—it's the end you apply it to that defines it."
"Just shut up!" Malak shouted, a series of four brutal strikes finally making a crack in Revan's defense, and only a quick backward dodge turned what would have cost the Jedi an arm into a painful, but minor wound along his shoulder.
"That bullshit is as old as the Order, Revan," the Sith seethed. "They believe that every expenditure of their power is justified, because they stand in 'the Light'. By whose judgment, Revan? Theirs? Tell me, did they save Taris from bombardment? Did they save Telos? When you ended the Mandalorian Wars once and for all, which banner did you stand under?! If any group of warriors possess the power needed to bring order to this galaxy, it is the Sith!"
"Order and balance are two separate things, Malak," Revan answered, inwardly saddened to see that his friend was indeed beyond redemption, but more than prepared to free him from his torment at the hands of the Dark Side. "I'm only going to ask you this one more time: will you put down your lightsaber?"
"Only when I'm dead, Revan," his friend snapped. "And you'll be waiting for me in the afterlife!"
The Jedi sighed inwardly at the answer, feeling his guilt bear down over his shoulders and all but crush him. Despite all he had done, he had failed to rescue the man who had once been his closest comrade from a hell he had consigned him to. Resolved to remedy his error in the only way that was left to him, Revan focused his mind, tapped deep into the energy of the Force surrounding him, and he saw it.
The opening. The shatterpoint, the place where Malak would be fully, fatally vulnerable in a few heartbeats. It was minuscule, and would be gone in a matter of seconds, but for now it was as clear and unmistakable. The Force coalesced and crackled around it, seeming to scream out to the Jedi to attack now, and without hesitation, because another moment like this wouldn't come.
"I'm sorry."
Surrendering to his instincts and letting the Force guide his movements, Revan moved out of the way of Malak's attack just enough to avoid contact with the red blade before striking forward with his own lightsaber, burning through his friend's bone and incinerating his heart in a single blow.
"Revan… you…" Malak forced out with his last breaths, before he crumpled weakly into a limp pile on the floor, his eyes frozen wide in an incredulous death-mask.
Revan retracted his own lightsaber and knelt down beside Malak's corpse, moving his hand over his friend's pallid face and closing his eyes.
"Rest in peace," the Jedi said solemnly, before rising to his feet and making to leave the chamber, feeling the battle raging outside and knowing that soon enough, the Republic would start their main assault on the Star Forge.
But then Revan felt something tug at the edge of his mind, something achingly familiar, and he stopped. Turning back around, his eyes fell on a small terminal and widened in shock.
It was a Sith Holocron.
His Holocron.
What it was doing here, Revan had no idea, but he knew it had been left here with the express purpose of him finding it again. There was a reason, and the Jedi wasn't about to let that reason get turned to ashes with the rest of this ancient war machine. Walking swiftly over to the small, pyramid-shaped object, Revan placed his hand against one of the smooth, cold faces and waited. The mechanisms and fail-safes inside recognized the one who had activated the Holocron as a powerful Force adept worthy of the knowledge held within it, and a moment later a life-sized holographic image of Darth Revan appeared floating in the air. The Jedi found it oddly nostalgic seeing his old self standing before him, mask-less but bearing the armored, hooded cloak and yellow eyes that had marked him as a Sith Master.
"I am Darth Revan," the image began, "Dark Lord of the Si…" the image stopped cold as it saw who stood before it, blinking once in surprise.
"It's you," the Sith Lord said flatly, clearly confused. Of all the people Revan had expected to find this, after all, he had never taken into account the possibility that he would be the one to unearth his own Holocron.
"The one and only," Revan answered with a smirk. "Care to tell me what the hell you're doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," the hologram parried. "You wouldn't have awoken me unless you'd conquered the rest of the galaxy and was going to tell me to de-activate myself in order to protect your secrets, but judging from the look of things that hasn't exactly happened."
"No; not exactly," Revan ceded. "But you still haven't answered my question. Who took you away from the temple on Rakata Prime?"
The hologram raised an eyebrow, the gesture calling attention to the deepened scar on the right side of the Sith Lord's face, above and below his eye.
"Why would you waste your time asking me such a stupid question?" the image asked. "You did."
"I did?" Revan said skeptically, before deciding to just trust his own words. There were still several holes in his memory, after all; holes that would take some time to fill.
"Yes, you did," the hologram repeated. "And now that I think about it, you left yourself a message—would you like to hear it?"
The sadistic smile on his Dark reflection's face was unmistakable: clearly, the message he had left himself was as important as it was dangerous, possessing in equal measure the power to corrupt and to save. Revan already knew what the words would be—they were the words he had repeated to himself every night during the Mandalorian Wars, after all—but he wanted, and needed, to hear himself repeat them regardless.
"Of course."
"Very well," the reflection said, its yellow eyes glimmering with intensity.
"Do not forget why you are here, and what remains to be done. Fail in this, and all you have sacrificed until now is worthless."
Its message delivered, the image flickered and faded, the triumphant, smug smile never leaving its face. It said nothing in parting, but the unspoken words were echoing in Revan's head regardless—they were his own.
You cannot rely upon the Light to defeat this enemy. Only darkness can quench the darkness, only fury can withstand fury. Embrace the darkness and conquer, or reject it and be destroyed.
Revan turned and left the chamber without another word, abandoning the Holocron and all of its knowledge to be devoured in the flames. In the end, he had been wrong about his progress: no matter how far he had come, the bonds he had broken and formed on the path back to the Light, in the end he still faced the same sinister choice that had propelled him down the Dark path to begin with. Malak might have been defeated, but he was nothing more than a harbinger, the herald of the true darkness lurking on the edge of the stars.
Revan lay face-up in his bunk in silence, pouring over the star charts spread out on the ceiling in front of him in faded images; ghosts etched into his retinas that followed him everywhere he looked. The rest of the crew was asleep as the ship sped on its course for Dantooine, where the Jedi Enclave was being rebuilt in the wake of Malak's attack. It was there that Revan would be formally honored for his service to the Order, despite his repeated insistence that he was unworthy and undeserving of any commendation. The Jedi tried to keep his mind focused elsewhere, but it would always come back in the end to the danger lurking out in the void of the Unknown Regions. He had to stop it, but to stop such a power would mean forsaking everything all over again, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
The ability to forsake was something he had valued highly as a Sith, the lack of attachments weighing him down, but now Revan couldn't see living without all of the friends and companions that had stood beside him during the fight against Malak. But at the same time, to drag them into this conflict would mean their deaths, and Revan had killed enough of his comrades already.
"You look like you're carrying the weight of a world, Revan," a soft voice whispered as Bastila leaned over and looked down at her lover, concern in her eyes. "Anything you want to tell me?"
"Sorry I woke you up," he said with a small smile, which Bastila reciprocated.
"Apology accepted," she replied warmly, "but you're being evasive. What is it that has you so intense? Malak is dead, the War is finally over—you should let yourself celebrate for once."
Revan was silent for several moments, letting himself linger in the warmth of Bastila's embrace while he could. Of all the things he would have to leave behind, he would miss this the most.
"Bastila," he said at last, when the words refused to be ignored any longer, "do you know why I became a Sith?"
Revan felt her stiffen at the question, but to his relief she relaxed almost immediately. She truly trusted him now, and that made Revan feel even worse about what was to come.
"No," Bastila answered slowly, "but I assume it was for the same reason everyone falls. You wanted power, and so you took it by the easiest route possible."
"That was part of it, yes," the other Jedi allowed, "but not all of it. It's true that I desired power, but it wasn't just power for power's sake. There was something out there that I found during the War while I was researching the mysteries of the Sith on Malachor V. It was an abyss, a void that reached out and called to me. I've never felt something that powerful before or since—it was the only thing that's ever truly terrified me."
Now it was Bastila's turn to fall silent, taking her time to see where Revan was going and realizing that it wouldn't include her. The Jedi's hand tightened its grip on his forearm, her voice gaining the steel it usually only held in battle as she spoke.
"I'm going with you, Revan."
He turned his head to look at her, eyes narrowed.
"Excuse me?"
"I said I'm going with you, wherever it is," Bastila reiterated, her determination never wavering. "If you try to leave me behind, I'll just follow you, and you know it. And if I die crawling after your footsteps, we both know you'll never be able to forgive yourself."
Revan sighed, wondering why now, of all times, was the moment Bastila decided to be stubborn. Then again, he had kind of seen this coming.
"Why would you ever ask to be a part of this, Bastila?" he said, the look in his eyes silently imploring her to turn around and walk away. "If you try to follow me where I have to go, you'll die. That isn't conjecture, or me trying to dissuade you. It's a fact. You'll be ripped to pieces by whatever that monstrosity is, and I don't know if I'm powerful enough to save you from it. Even if I turned to the Dark Side again, I don't know if I could stop it."
"Why do you do this to yourself, Revan?" his lover pressed gently, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Why do you always take every ounce of responsibility onto your back? You don't have to face whatever this threat is alone; as your friends, it's our duty to make sure you won't. It might seem like an impossible fight to you, but I know several people who said redemption from the Dark Side was impossible, and you proved them wrong. I know countless people who said Malak would never be defeated, and you proved them wrong. Can't you trust in someone else to prove you wrong for once, Revan?"
The other Jedi wanted to scream, wanted to shout at this stupid woman that she was signing her own death warrant and that being suicidal didn't make her brave, but he did none of that. Because even as infuriating as she was, Bastila had a point. People had begun to put their faith in him again, and it was only fair for Revan to return the favor.
"I'm not winning this argument," he said wearily, "am I?"
Bastila smiled wickedly, knowing that she'd won.
"Absolutely not."
"Fine," Revan acquiesced at last, "have it your way. But if you're going to insist on being dragged along, there are a few things you're going to have to accept."
"Which are?" Bastila asked with a raised eyebrow, and Revan held up his hand, enumerating each point with a raised finger.
"First, you're going to give yourself at least two weeks' time to recover from what Malak put you through; no one can just walk off that kind of torture."
Bastila frowned at the notion of spending any more time sitting around the Academy convalescing and meditating when there were battles to be fought, but she saw the wisdom and care in her loved one's words and nodded in the end. Revan held up another finger.
"Second, before we head out into the Unknown Regions, we're going to search out an old friend of mine—she was my Lieutenant during the Mandalorian War, right below Malak. Deserted the army after the final battle, but I have a feeling she's exiled herself to some part of the Outer Rim, busy drinking herself to death."
"She?" Bastila said pointedly, and Revan flashed a crooked smile.
"Are you jealous?" he asked, and the brief but intense blush on his lover's face gave him his answer.
"Of course not!" she denied, but as much as Revan wanted to give Bastila a hard time for it, he resisted the impulse and held up another finger.
"Third, and finally, I'm not taking you with me until you've trained hard enough to earn the rank of Jedi Master."
Bastila's mouth opened slightly in shock and she made a noise of protest, but Revan was unbending.
"You're strong now, and I understand that, Bastila; I can see how much you've grown and as I said before, I couldn't be more proud of you. But where we'd be going, I can't watch your back for you constantly. I won't be able to play the hero, because I'll need to focus everything I have on staying alive. Until I'm confident that you can hold your own against an enemy of that caliber without flinching, I'm not carrying you with me into a warzone."
"But that—that could take me years, Revan!" Bastila exclaimed. "We don't have that much time to waste!"
"It's not wasting time, Bastila," the other Jedi countered firmly, "it's using that time wisely. And don't worry: I'll be training as well, and I'll be there to help you if you need it. I promise you I'm not about to let you suffer through Master Lamar's lectures alone, Princess."
"Thank you oh-so-much for your benevolence, Lord Revan," Bastila said in mock-reverence, giving her lover a not-so-light punch on the arm. "I'm holding you to that promise, I hope you know. And don't call me that nickname again, if you want to keep your limbs intact."
"You know you like it," Revan replied, placing a light trail of kisses on Bastila's neck that turned the rest of her protestations into a sound that he found infinitely more pleasing to listen to. "We still have a good two hours before we reach Dantooine," he whispered in a low, mischievous voice. "Let's make the most of it, shall we?"
Bastila said nothing, merely turning her head to face his and finally paying Revan back for the searing kiss he'd given her on the Star Forge. As insufferable as the man was, he certainly had his good side.
Maybe spending a few years with him on Dantooine training wouldn't be so bad, after all.
A/N: I've been wanting to do a KOTOR story for several years now, since I last played the game, but this was the first idea I was really satisfied with. Hope you all enjoyed it, and reviews are highly appreciated; feedback means a lot, and especially on the first foray into a particular fandom.
Also, gargantuan thanks and props go out to my beta on this story, the ever-reliable JasoTheArtisan. Despite only writing stories for Bleach, he has a knowledge of Star Wars I find simply staggering, and writing acumen to match. He's a hell of an author in his own right, as well-- if you like 'Bleach', go read his stuff. You'll enjoy it.