For a split moment, she wondered what he might have looked like in the end, if she hadn't dragged him into the Dark.
His agate eyes remained, unsullied even with the fervent glow of treachery behind them. She remembered his dark hair, messy on his head, and how sometimes it would stick with sweat to his forehead during their practice sessions. Those were easy days, in the beginning, when they were only young acquaintances with practice sabers. He was the odd one out among the new recruits from Coruscant, the Jedi padawans sent to Dantooine for guidance under esteemed Master Vandar Tokare. Malak, or Alek as he was known when he was younger, lumbered at an impressive 6'5", but his size worked against him as the Jedi had no balance or coordination. He awkwardly lingered around the outskirts of all of their classes, too clumsy to be considered a talented contender, but too large to be anything other than frightening. He didn't say much, and when the other students laughed at his graceless feigns, he gave them a stony glare that quickly shut them up. By all means, Alek was a loner, and one without a promising future as a Jedi.
Revan was the opposite. She came from the academy on Bespin, and quickly outshined the rest of the group. She was surefooted, light, and agile- and her blade bested many a similar aspiring student. She remembered enjoying the popularity and attention that came with her skilled reputation. There were a few who sought Revan out as a rival, saw themselves of equal caliber, but time and time again she conquered and proved her worth. However, she was not a woman to walk away from a spar without a handshake. Alek never challenged her, and when she noticed, she couldn't decide if he was scared of her or simply uninterested.
One day, Revan was returning from a meal in the eastern corridor when she heard the sound of practice droids shooting their blasters. It was a day that the students had off, so most of them wandered into town or did something relaxing with their time. Revan wasn't an exception, and she had planned on taking a nap right after her meal. She probably should have scolded herself for being so lazy, but after working so hard all week, she didn't see why she couldn't indulge a little bit, as long as no one caught her. However, the sound of blasts coming from the practice room lured her attention away from her awaiting bed into the middle of an intense fray.
Alek stood, his yellow lightsaber ignited, in the middle of the room, deflecting bolt after bolt. Revan lingered quietly at the door, closing her presence off in the Force to watch him at work. His wrist flicked effortlessly against the blasts, but his height ultimately felled him, as he tried to dodge a spare blast to his left and ended up tumbling over his feet. "Fierfek!" He cursed, holstering his blade.
"You don't keep your feet far enough apart," Revan suddenly said, uncertain why she even offered the advice up. Alek turned to see her, his cheeks becoming red before he grunted and shuffled to his feet.
"I don't need your help." His voice was gruff and tight, and Revan could catch just the slightest hints of a hard Quelii accent. He ignited his saber again and resumed a reckless battle stance, waving for the droid to start firing again.
Revan flicked her hand and turned the floating droid off, sending it back to the ground. Alek faced her again, his brows furrowed with anger. "What do you think you're doing?"
"You need to put more space between the insides of your soles," she began, walking into the room and circling him to observe his posture. She could feel his hard eyes boring into her, but she ignored them in favor of pointing to his feet. "And straighten them out. You can't expect to hold your ground if you can't even hold up your own two legs. Your hips, too, you're twisting them too much."
She moved beside him and demonstrated, her legs wide but feet firmly grounded. She bent her knees a bit and turned her right shoulder towards the droid. "You're wide," she commented, looking at his shoulders. "An easy target for anyone. If you turn your body like this, there's less chance of taking a hit." She grabbed her saber off the hilt and lit it, holding the blue blade in front of her with both hands. "You can turn to better face your opponent if you like, but don't vary too far from this stance. See, it's the Jedi Ready pose."
Revan stood and waited for Alek to assume the stance, even though she expected him to turn his back and walk away. His eyes continued to burn holes in her face, but for whatever reason, she pretended not to notice and continued to hold her ground. She was surprised when he grunted and slowly moved into position, referencing the locations of her anatomy to his. "Okay, no, pull in your back heel just a bit. And lock that knee. You should probably lift your arms a little bit too."
She smiled when he finally got it right, or as close as he was getting to it. "You know that's a pretty basic lesson," Revan said, watching him carefully. "I'm curious why the master at Coruscant didn't teach that to you." Alek's face again flushed with either embarrassment or anger, she couldn't tell which. He stood and put his lightsaber on his hilt, briskly turning on his heel.
"I didn't let you stay just to be lectured on what standard I should meet right now," he said between locked jaws, heading towards the door.
"No, I didn't mean it that way," she said quickly, following him. "I mean, did the master even teach you and the rest of the students there?"
Alek paused as he reconsidered her intent. Revan knew there was a thin line between helpful and condescending, especially from her, the current dominating student among their class. She had to be careful not to tip too far over it. He turned and crossed his arms. "Master Taan was not very attentive," he said slowly, as if to gauge whether or not he should even be talking to her. His jaw unclenched as she smiled.
"I thought so. You do have potential, you know, it's just rough and untamed. You have to domesticate it a bit to make it work for you. That part isn't so hard if you have someone showing you how to do it." The blue eyed giant stared for a moment more until his resolve dissolved.
"Fine," he said. "But if you're going to help me, you can't call me Squint."
Revan grinned and nodded. "Good. I'm tired of people either worshipping me or hating me. You seem to be indifferent. I like that."
Alek snorted with a gruff tone. "Being adored, I can only imagine how terrible that is."
She had been right. Alek had more than a feasible amount of potential, and as the years fled by, his skill improved and even came to rival her own. That much was obvious, she thought sarcastically, as she faltered under his abhorring gaze. His lightsaber was on the other end of the room, sliced into pieces, reminiscent of the look of his jaw the day she carved it right off its hinges. Hers clattered as it fell down the walkway and listlessly rolled past Malak to the center of the chamber. Revan's sweaty palms clasped the railing as she felt her knees buckling, but she drew upon the Force to keep her standing. There was only hatred between Darth Malak and herself, as well as the bloody shaft of steel piping that he had ripped from the ceiling and thrust into her ribcage. She remembered teaching him that when his lightsaber was astray, there were always other weapons to be had. Her lung was likely collapsed about the piercing intruder, because she noticed the sound of wheezing coming from her lips.
The man that stood before her was hardly the man she knew and taught, so long ago, but at the same time, he was every bit the same. She had taken him to places he hadn't ought to go, or places that he was bound to go to anyway. His betrayal shouldn't have surprised her so much, but they were once best friends. They were more than that, they were two halves of the same whole. She could not imagine a battle that didn't involve Alek, later Malak, because he was her right hand as much as she was his left. She hated him, and she loved him; she wanted him to live, and she wanted to kill him; all of the extremes she swore to be tired of the day they started talking. It was impossible to have clear, defined virtues and feelings when she was around him. He made everything much more complicated; he added hundreds more shades to the spectrum. He was her best friend, her equal, and at the same time, her servant, her apprentice. She didn't know which would win out in the end, but the shaft that cut through her chest and dripped with blood on the other side seemed to favor the hatred of the apprentice. Of the master. Revan had found herself defeated.
"I told you," his familiar voice echoed from the other side of the walkway. Was he close, or miles away? "You could have joined me, with our roles reversed. You could give in the temptation that is your internal struggle, the darkness within your soul." His mechanized voice, made a few octaves higher by the electric influence, rang loudly in her head, though she wondered if it didn't waver slightly at the end. Did she hear his voice break? She gripped the railing even harder, her knuckles white with her grasp. Her knees were like jelly below her and she couldn't feel her feet, but still, Revan forced herself to stand. She would not fall, not as long as he was on two feet.
"Die already," he cursed, and she felt the pressure of the Force pushing her down. She fought and pushed back, holding her ground. "You are defeated, Revan. Die with grace." Revan shook her head, and lifted her hand to the shaft piercing her chest.
"Not while- not while you still stand," she managed, as she weakly pulled the shaft from her body. She fell to her knees in the process.
"Don't be pitiful, Revan," he warned, walking forward to grab her hair and pick her up. He pulled her to the railing and held her against it, one palm wrapping against her throat, the other around the pipe she held in her hands. Her eyes closed as she could feel the strength draining from her body, and for a split second, she considered giving up. She was dying. There was no other option.
"No," she said sternly, to both Malak and herself. With her last effort, Revan exerted herself in the Force, and in the few following seconds, the piece of broken pipe sank into Malak's chest and exited from his back, closer to his heart than he had managed to get with her. She heard him choke and felt his grasp on her neck weaken.
"Damn you," he spat, seething with the wound. He collapsed backward, seizing as the life began to leave his body. She could hear the officials around them break for an escape, and one of them pressed the emergency button on the console. Alarms began sounding through the chamber and the halls outside. Red lights flashed in her eyes. She fell, too, her chin landing just beside Malak's elbow. It felt like centuries before she crawled up to face his dying breath. His eyes twitched and locked on hers. "A-and in the end," he choked with a raspy voice. "..as the darkness takes me- I am nothing." Revan shook her head, watching his eyes follow her.
"Never nothing," she managed, before she felt the metal of the floor beneath her head. His body finally stopped moving, his blue eyes still staring into her own. She couldn't feel any of her limbs now, including her hand that had wrapped itself around his wrist, and finally, her sight blurred into blackness. His face, her best friend's face, his was the last thing she would ever see.
The alarms continued to wail as the sound of boots grew more distant, the Star Forge's numbers rushing to escape. She could hear her breath, slow and steady, fading away.
No one would ever find them. The Star Forge would go down with the two on board, the Ebon Hawk forced to flee without her. No one would ever discover the two bodies, side by side in a puddle of blood. No one would ever see that, even in his last few moments, even though his death was brought on by Revan, his hand had moved enough to knot around her fingers.
No one would ever know.