To Be Hanged

Donni stood on the hard, cold, metal floor of the Ebon Hawk, leaning ever so slightly onto the wall. The doors to the storage room were locked shut, and various barrels were on their sides and rolling around. She wanted no one to remember she was there, even if none of them had held a grudge against her in the first place. She felt as if she was sinking in a cesspool of black ink, with no one to help her.

Sighing, she crossed her arms and pouted her full, pink lips. She rolled her blue eyes as her thin, uncontrollable blonde hair brushed into her face.

Donni had stopped eating days before, not even letting the Force suffice her. She had tried as hard as possible to get the Force away from her, but it wouldn't leave. It just kept coming back. So Donni had resigned to the Force being there, but she wouldn't let it feed her.

Anger shot through her again abruptly. She closed her eyes and three barrels floated up into the air, crashing violently together. They hit the ground, making an even louder noise.

Why should she be Revan? Why did she have to be the one who ruined so many lives? She was a murderer, a criminal, a scoundrel. A life-taker. She should be shot, she should be hung, she should have something done to her to pay for the crimes she committed.

That's what Carth thought, anyway.

The soldier sat up in his bed, growling as he heard two heavy barrels smash onto the floor, once again. He pulled on his jacket and left the men's dorm. This couldn't go on. She couldn't keep doing this.

She'd keep everyone awake until they reached Manaan.

Carth walked to the storage room, promptly knocking on the door.

"Hmm…" Came the voice on the other side. "I didn't think soldiers came calling in the middle of the night to Sith Lords."

"I just came to warn you: please quiet down." Carth called through the door. "We're trying to sleep."

"Yeah, well I'm trying to vent." Donni shot back, deliberately crashing two more barrels together. She smiled as she felt Carth's cringe and heard his small grunt. "You'll get used to it after a while. After about ten minutes of hearing nothing but this sweet, sweet music you'll either be sleeping like a baby or—even more annoyed."

"That's not funny."

"Really? I thought it was."

"Revan!" Carth opened the door to the storage room and walked in, blanching at the woman he used to love. Her robes were now way too big for her, though they were the smallest size, and there were huge bags under her eyes. Her baby blue eyes narrowed.

"My name isn't Revan." Donni growled, crossing her arms. She pouted her lips, holding back both her anger and her brokenness.

"Last time I checked it was." Carth retaliated.

"Was not. It's Donniea Jimey. That's not too hard to remember, is it?" Donni asked, poking Carth in the chest defiantly.

"You are nothing but Revan to me." Carth looked away from the woman.

Donni stepped back, the shock apparent on her face. She had really liked—albeit, loved Carth. To hear him say that was like stabbing her a thousand times and still not have her die. Her face paled and her eyes widened.

"You don't get it, do you?" She asked, fighting to control her temper. "You just don't get it!"

"There's nothing to get! You're Revan, you destroyed my home world, and once you help us destroy the Star Forge you're going to face the consequences of your past actions. You're to be sentenced by the Republic for your crimes." Carth stayed emotionless, crossing his arms.

"That's not it at all!" Donni shouted, a vein in her throat popping out. "Five days ago my whole life was shattered before me. Everything I thought I knew was a lie. Well, that I know of. I don't know if I've ever killed a man before the Mandalorian Wars or not. I—I can't remember if I knew how to work technology or martial arts best. I can't remember my real mother's name! Hell, I don't remember my name!" Donni paced around the room.

"I've not slept in five days for fear of remembering more things, for fear of realizing that I've been living a lie for however long this has been going on. I've not eaten in five days; for fear that the food would be a lie too and disappear in front of me. I've not taken a drink in five days for fear I would remember I never knew how to swallow, and choke on it."

"That's the silliest—" Carth was cut off.

"Then you come in. I need you right now, Carth. I need some kind of reassurance that I can relate to, not just two Jedi, a Twi'lek, a Wookie, a Mandalorian and two machines. But you're so stuck on the destruction of Telos—which happened years ago—to not notice anything else! Do you even care?" Donni's speech left Carth dumbfounded. He stood there in silence. Before he could come up with an answer, Donni jumped on.

"And then there's Bastila! That little bastard led me on a string the whole time and then it was my fault she was captured. She can't give me any advice—whether or not I'd accept it."

"Revan, I—" Carth stopped. Donni stomped her foot.

"Please, Carth." She pleaded. "I'm already lost in my own eyes." She looked up into Carth's hazel eyes, her blue ones full of anger. "And I'll be hanged—" She paused. "The moment I'm lost in yours."

Carth raised his eyebrows, obviously calling her a joke. Donni said no more, however. She sat up against the wall, spinning around a barrel in the air.

"Are you going to stop the noise?" Carth asked suddenly, not thinking before speaking. The barrel hit the ground, rolling on its side. Donni's eyes glazed over as she kept her gaze onto the floor. She didn't talk; she didn't look at him; she didn't move. Carth slowly left the room, closing the storage room door behind him.

The only sound Carth heard the rest of that night was the sound of all nine barrels in the storage room hitting the side of the ship at the same time, and Donni's scream of pain. Obviously she had hit herself with one of the barrels. Mission rose from her bed to go check on her friend.

"Leave her, Mission." Carth ordered, holding his hand up to stop her. She glared at him. "She has to get through this herself."

"No, she doesn't." Mission spat. "You just don't want us getting near an Ex-Sith Lord."

"And as captain of the ship I'm entitled to command you to stay in your quarters." Carth emphasized. Mission slapped him.

"What the hell is your problem?" She shouted. "You were best friends with Donni until the Leviathan came and you found out she had some forgotten memories about being Revan. So-fraking what? She is not a Sith Lord, Donni has never been a Sith Lord, and if you let us go near her, she never will be a Sith Lord!"

"What makes you so sure? How do you know that Revan hasn't been here the whole time, listening to our plots and secrets, playing us all and acting depressed after her cover's been blown?" Carth grabbed Mission's arm, stopping her from leaving the room.

"She's the one that's been making the plans, asshole! She's been keeping the secrets as well as we have! Donniea Jimey is just as much a Republican as you!" Mission dug her nails into Carth's arm.

"I would agree with you on that if she was Donniea Jimey. But she isn't; she's Revan. I'm just looking at it logically, Mission, please hear me out—"

"No," Mission cried. "You're looking at it like the old, paranoid, man you are. You trusted Donniea Jimey with all your troubles, and the moment she's tested herself about something troubling—the time she needs you most—you're in here bad-mouthing her."

Mission seemed to give up. She fell back onto her bed and was instantly asleep.

Carth was exhausted. He lay down in his bed and tried to settle into peaceful slumber. But he couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept creeping back to Donni. Had he been too hard on her before? Should he have given her a chance, instead of forcing her into the storage room after kicking her out of both dorm rooms? Did he still have a chance to make it right?

Nah, he told himself. She would be fine. She was Darth Revan; she could come out of anything. And once she was done saving the Republic she would pay for her crimes. He would make certain of that. Besides, it wasn't like he cared about her. She was a murderer, and no one liked a murderer. They had no feelings; didn't care about anything but bloodlust.

On that note, he drifted off into a light sleep.

Carth awoke to a fierce scream. This one was louder then Donni's from before, and this one was full of fear. He glanced quickly at his clock. It was four in the morning. Carth had only been asleep for five hours.

Leaping up from his bed and grabbing a blaster, he managed on his jacket and rocketed to the source of the voice.

It was Mission, standing in front of the open storage room door. She hands covered her mouth and her headtails were shaking back and forth. Her eyes were wide with horror.

Horror. The horror in her eyes chilled Carth's bones. Jolee ran up from behind him and wrapped an arm around Mission's shoulders. He stared at what Mission was staring at and sighed, closing his eyes.

"Damn that lass," He murmured. He hugged Mission into him, who still didn't take her eyes off of the thing in the room.

"What is it?" Carth walked over into the room. He dropped his blaster, stepped back, and blanched. He was about to be sick. His heart leapt out of his throat and almost spilled out onto the floor.

There was Donni, swinging on a rope on the ceiling.

Gasping and leaning a hand onto the wall, he stared at the dead woman's eyes. They were cold and blue; sort of lifeless, like a doll's eyes. They wouldn't stop staring at Carth.

And he couldn't stop staring at them. Something about the eyes tore him limb from limb. They were full of despair, like she had gone mad in her sadness. Those eyes had stayed that way for a few hours, it seemed; and it was like they had been positioned in the exact spot Carth was standing in.

And her leg! Her right leg was totally crushed, probably due to the thrashing of barrels hours before. Her poor leg would have been totally flat had there been no bone there. Blood encrusted the leg in a thick redness. Why hadn't he let Mission check on her?

On her robes was a note. Carth took the white paper out of her outside robe pocket and read it.

Dear Carth:

You lost me.

Love,

Donniea Jimey

Carth's hands shook as he read the note. It was his fault. He'd killed her.

"Oh, damn…." He whispered.

He fell. He fell into the blackness. He screamed, holding a hand up for someone to pull him back. No one came. They all shunned him. There was nothing he could do. He kept falling; screaming and flailing the whole way. All he could do was wait until he hit the bottom.

But when would that be? When would the crushing pain of the blackness stop?

This was what Donni had felt, Carth thought. He drove her to this. Oh Force, if only he'd thrown aside all his paranoia and doubt of her, he would have seen she had really tried to not be Revan! She'd loved him; she was just as angry and doubtful in herself as he had been. Yet she'd gotten over it! They all had! Damn it all, Carth was the one who had driven her to this successful suicide attempt. It was his fault. His fault.

And there she was, standing there in front of him. The rope was still around her neck, cutting off the circulation to her brain, but she was standing right there. Her small, pale face emotionless, letting those eyes handle the emotions. Her cold, dead eyes reached for his pleadingly, and a pale, cold, stiff hand stretched out to Carth. Terrified, he stepped back. Tears whelped up into his face.

"Help….me…." She whispered, her voice hoarse and barely coherent. "Please…."

Carth's couldn't move. He was scared out of his wits. His legs cramped in place despite his feeble attempts to turn and run. The mixed feelings to help Donni and to run away canceled each other out and froze him in place.

Donni sensed he wouldn't help her. Her hand slowly dropped low to her side. Carth found his voice about then, and he moaned.

"No, wait!" He called, fighting for control of the rest of his body. "Please! Donni, don't leave! I'm sorry!"

Donni's impassive face cracked in two. Her skin flaked onto the floor. Her arms splintered away from the body and plummeted to the floor, getting no wince or cry from the woman.

"Donni—" Carth watched, about to throw up. He couldn't tear his eyes from it.

Donni's legs began turning to dust, blowing away in an invisible breeze. Her waist disappeared afterward. Blood spilled onto the floor at Carth's feet, reddening his bare toes.

She was leaving him.

"Donni!" Carth cried again. "Don't go!"

Her face was going. The skin left first, showing her muscles in her face clearly, and the blood flowing peacefully as if it had never stopped. As the muscle stripped away, the bones revealed themselves. They were cracked in several places where Revan had been wounded in battle. They were leaving.

Carth was going to be alone.

That image came back. Donni swinging from the ceiling. Swinging back and forth gently, as if the Force were rocking her to sleep.

Except her eyes would never close. They would always be staring at Carth, who was responsible for her premature death.

Finally, Carth sat up. Sweat poured down his neck, drenching his grey night shirt. He took many long breaths. Shooting his eyes around the dorm, he saw Mission still sound asleep on her bed. He glanced at his clock slowly. He sighed. It was only 11:30.

What had just happened? Was that a dream? Sighing, he rubbed his eyes.

"I'd better check on her," He thought aloud. He stood, not thinking about getting on his infamous yellow jacket, and staggered down to the storage room. He didn't bother to knock on the greenish-gray texture; he let himself in.

There was Donniea Jimey, tying a rope around the bars in the ceiling, using a barrel to reach them. Tears were flowing from her eyes freely, and she wasn't paying attention to the doors. She was standing on one leg, allowing the Force to keep her balance. Her right leg was trampled—almost flattened—and bleeding.

Without thinking, Carth pulled her down from the stool-barrel, grasping onto her and holding on tight. He embraced her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her back pressed against his chest, he dug his face into her hair. She gasped loudly in surprise, but refused to struggle against the kind gesture.

"Please, Donni." He pleaded, feeling his own tears gushing as well. He was getting her hair soaked and he didn't care. "Don't leave me. I'm sorry,"

Donni stayed silent. She didn't want to move, for fear it wasn't real. Here was Carth, gripping her tightly and not letting her go. Was he for real?

Instead of answering, Donni chose this time to struggle. She tried to pull out of his hold, failing as his grip tightened. She whimpered.

"I'm begging you," He whispered, hearing his voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I don't want this to happen."

Donni turned in his arms, placing hers on his chest and staring into his eyes, searching for sincerity. That was all she found.

Carth looked into Donni's baby blue eyes; still full of life, still a little glimmer of hope in them. They were completely different from the last image of her.

He broke down. He bawled in front of her. He was pathetic, a little weakling who no one should care about. He was so selfish the last few days, and now he was going to pay for it.

Yet, Donni pulled his face onto her neck, wrapping her small arms around his broad back.

"I'm not lost, after all," She whispered, crying as well. "It's alright; don't cry." She rubbed his back soothingly. She knelt him down onto the ground and they sat there, holding each other for who knows how long.

Carth had finally calmed down. He pulled away from her, grinning as best he could. They stood, and Carth was about to say something.

Donni passed out. There she was, staring at him one moment, and the next she was in his arms, totally out of it. At first Carth panicked, thinking she was dead.

"I've not slept in five days for fear of remembering more things, for fear of realizing that I've been living a lie for however long this has been going on." The memory came back to him. He sighed.

"Carth?" Mission was staring at him, her eyebrows raised. "Oh, Force! Is she okay? Is she dead?" Mission rushed up to Donni, feeling her head and checking for a pulse.

"She just needs sleep. I'll put her in my cot." Carth said. He heard Mission following him as he returned to their dorm and laying her down onto the bed. As Carth laid her down Mission reached inside a chest for a space medpac and helped Carth gently dress the leg wound.

"So you two made up?" She asked as they closed the door, done with the medpac.

"You could say that, yes." Carth nodded. Mission smiled.

"Say, what do you think would have happened had you not made up?"

Carth stopped walking, the image of the cold, emotionless, dead Donni came back to mind.

"I haven't the slightest."