I should have know she'd find out. Sooner or later, it was bound to happen, and it's just my rotten luck that I ran into those sons of schutta Twi'liks again. Bastards had to rat me out, first to the Republic, and now to her. And to think, I was looking forward to Nar Shaddaa. I should've known better.
I can't pretend to understand Jedi. I know how to kill and turn them, but I've never understood them. Rhyn's no exception. Strong in battle, yet completely innocent and virginal in everything else. She likes to say a lot of things about the darkness within me mirroring her own. That she can understand pain and hate and anger. She always wants to council and talk, and I always tell her that if I really showed her who I am, she would run away screaming. It's meant to be flippant, and it usually makes her laugh, but both of us know it's no joke. She maybe naive, but she's not stupid.
She thinks I'm a good man, and that's the biggest joke of all. Sometimes I want to tell her everything just to scare her; she wouldn't think me a fool after seeing some of the things I have to show. Neither would that damn witch. Revan used to laugh at me and say that I could only get off while hunting Jedi, and my former Lord always knew best. I went to war to stop the Mandalorians from doing the same things I did to those Jedi. Somehow, though, it didn't matter that what I was doing was wrong or immoral or disturbing. I liked doing it, and I loved that moment when the Jedi would finally see things my way. Fracking with their minds was satisfactory revenge for leaving the Republic to die, but that was nothing compared to the moment when they finally broke. Besides, I was following Revan's orders, and Revan was a goddess.
The old hag told Rhyn that that I like to think about her. I didn't answer her when she asked me about it, what was I supposed to tell her? That I need her so badly my fantasies twist and I use techniques from the old days to make her mine? That I can't stop thinking about making her cry and moan, and only sometimes it's from pleasure? Well, I know that it'll never happen. Me and her, I mean. She's a dream, and I won't taint her. I promised myself I'd protect her from men like me.
She'll want the truth when we get back to the Hawk. How the hell do I tell her that I stay because of a debt to a woman I tortured, raped, then killed to put her out of misery? Oh yeah, she'll tell me every thing's okay, kiss me, then we'll go out for ice-cream and buy a pet gizka. Right.
Or maybe she will, and that's the part I really don't get. Funny thing is I can almost want all those things – well, not the fracking gizka. Can't stand those croaking vermin; once they infest a ship, you can never get 'em out. She'd probably love one, though; would think it's sweet.
Maybe I should just leave when we get to the ship. See her get on board safely then just walk away. Problem is I still owe that long dead Jedi, and the other is that Mical'd win. Bastard probably spent the last decade rubbing one out every night thinking about her ankles. I don't deserve her, but he definitely doesn't. Besides, the guy just bugs me. If anything he should be with T3. Annoying trash compactor, meet whinging government lackey. I'd write a holo, but who'd watch when T3's the one with personality?
Dammit! Frack gizkas, and Mical and beeping tin cans. She'll never forgive me.
At least she won't kick me off the ship, she needs a pilot too badly. And even if she did, it's too bad for her, I'm not going anywhere! I guess, I guess I need her too, even if she won't want me around. Funny, Rhyn won't think I'm a good man anymore, not after today. Joke's on you, Rand, you got exactly what you wanted.