Author's notes: Wow. I honestly think this is a first. I have never seen a DSF/Carth fic before (let me know if there are), so I figured I'd try my hand. Also something new for me: Writing from the male POV, albeit in the 3rd person. Although somehow near the end I think it switched to just 3rd person omniscient... wierd. I purposely avoided describing Revan or giving her a name.

The bright line between good and evil was becoming blurred as of late. Carth Onasi sighed as he drank a swig of his caf on the bridge of the Ebon Hawk.

He used to be a man who believed in black and white. You were one of us, or one of them. Now... he wasn't quite as sure. And it was all because of her.

Why did that woman get to him like this?

He had been watching her. She was ruthless. She saw their mission as going from point "a" to point "z". It didn't matter how you got there, as long as you got there. Pure intentions: finding a way to get to the Star Forge and take Malak out, but evil methods. Or were they evil?

When the gizka had invaded the Ebon Hawk, she used the Force to convince a selkath to take them off her hands. Not necessarily a bad thing. But not very long after, she had pushed a man up against a wall to get him to confess to planting evidence.

During battle, her technique was flawless. Her Force training had allowed her to see attacks before they came and, when another was in a pinch, she would use her abilities to take some of the burden off of him. If there was an option, she preferred fighting over talking. She had a way with words on occasion, but she couldn't be considered a people person.

The only person that she really talked to often was... Well, him. He didn't know why she was fascinated with him, but it made him slightly uneasy. Why would she be so interested in him, specifically? And why did she want to know so much about him without so much as telling him where her home planet was. Without letting him in.

Ruthless as she was, he could tell that she was slipping. Taking the easy way out more often than the kind way. Resorting to brute force rather than diplomacy. He hated diplomacy as much as the next person, but it was, in his opinion, a necessary evil. Not something to be thrown at the wayside.

What scared him even more was that he trusted her.

He'd tried not to, at first. Detachment. That was his creed since Telos. Don't get attached; don't trust anyone. Trust leads to betrayal. Betrayal leads to loss. And he'd had enough of both for one lifetime.

So how, in the course of their so far three month journey had he grown so fond of her? Hell, he didn't even trust the twi'lek kid. Or the innocent-as-of-yet T3. Especially not the mandalorian.

Why her?

"You still staring at the console?" A silky voice came from behind.

Damn those Jedi and their sneakiness.

"No," he responded jokingly. "Finished that a while back. Now I'm staring at the stars." He finished his cup of caf and stood, turning to look at the subject of his musings.

"I just figured you could use some company," she said, "and some tea." She leaned against the doorway, two mugs of the steaming hot beverage in her hands. She lifted one as though offering it to him and the pilot graciously accepted it.

"You spoil me," he teased, taking a sip. He would never tell her that he hated tea.

"I try." She smiled.

He motioned for her to sit in the copilot's chair as he sat back down. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

As the Jedi sat, she gave a somber laugh. "I try not to." The two sat in silence for a few moments, quietly drinking their tea.

"Hey, I—"

"You know—"

The pair chuckled. "You go ahead," the woman said.

"It's nothing," the older man said dismissively.

She smirked. "Then it won't matter if you tell me, will it?"

"I suppose not." He sighed. "It's just, I... I'm worried about you." The slight smile slowly fell from her face. He noticed that she had taken a sudden interest in the tea leaves sticking to the bottom of her mug. When she didn't reply, he continued. "I know that you can take down three mercs at a shot and I know that you are one of the most capable people I have ever met but... it's hard to watch you do this to yourself."

"Do what to myself?" she asked blankly, almost sadly, not turning to face him.

"You don't sleep, beautiful. You hardly eat. You haven't been talking to anyone. You just sit in your bunk, staring at... well, something."

She stood and responded coolly, "I don't see how that is any of your business, Onasi."

"It's not... I know it's not. But that doesn't mean I don't want to help you." He moved toward her.

"I don't need help," she growled, her voice quiet and intense. She took a step toward the door.

The concerned pilot grabbed her arm. "Yes, you do."

"Onasi, let me go." Her eyes, yellow-green irises, narrowed.

"Listen to me," he said, a firm grip on her slender arm. "You... you have a lot on your shoulders. Too much. The Jedi Council shouldn't have made you do this. And you shouldn't assume that the burden is yours alone to bear. I want to... to help you carry it. If you would just let me in."

There was a pause.

"...I was ten when my mother was murdered," she said quietly, eyes down on the floor. "I... I didn't see it, but I knew what had happened. My father was shaken up, wouldn't speak to me or my brother for a week. But he got back up and carried our broken family through the crisis. Whatever the cost. Whoever he had to pay off to avoid being found, whoever he had to kill to keep us safe. And I swore that I would be strong, just like my father... He did it alone. And I have to carry our family through this alone. Alone, Carth. It's on me."

"It doesn't have to be," he said, turning her toward him. "Your father was clearly a great man. But our family can be more than just a bag you have to carry around. We can help you. I... I can help you."

He didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to hold her, even though her eyes bore into his emotionlessly. He settled for grabbing her hand. "Please."

For what seemed an eternity, she stood silently.

"I don't know if I can be helped, Carth," she finally whispered. Her grip tightened, and she held onto his hand as though it was the last thing holding her to this place.

He gave her hand a squeeze. "We can try."