His eyes were dim as he gazed at the fire before him. He rested his forearms on his knees and his chin brushed against them as he gently shook his head, presumably in thought. Meetra never quite realized just how beautiful he was: dark eyes, messy hair, the weight of the Republic on his shoulders. His face was pale and hollow, even with the glow of the fire reflecting across it, and somehow it made him more attractive to her. The vulnerability in his empty expression was somehow endearing, and she found herself tempted to go over and wrap her arms around him.
Nearly a quarter of their troops had been slaughtered by the Mandalorians that day. It was necessary, but didn't bring any less pain. She herself ached, and the echo of death through the Force was almost too much for her to bear. She couldn't even imagine how Revan was feeling, having led his men to their death. His face was placid as he listened half-heartedly to Alek and another solider chattering away next to him. He looked over at them occasionally, smiling quietly and nodding, but she knew better. He wasn't thinking about them. He was planning, strategizing; he didn't want this to happen again.
He seemed to lose himself again, and she continued to observe him, something in the back of her mind reminding her that he was probably fully aware of her watchful eyes. He didn't acknowledge her though, and she felt a bit disheartened at his lack of attention throughout the evening. She wanted him to draw closer to her, to tell her what was wrong. She needed to be with him, to see someone such as him so broken down, weary. It was as if before she had never considered him human, even growing up he had been so beyond them. And she liked the pain, as twisted as that seemed, by the Force it made her want to be there for him, to pick him up when he felt like he had failed them all.
A power trip, perhaps, but she did care for him. She had been close enough to him to know what he was feeling, despite how well he was masking it. He brought them all into this war. He beckoned, and stars, she answered.
He lifted his head and reached his arm back as a means for support as he stood, brushing debris from the fire off of his legs. His eyes remained on the ground before they fell on Alek. "I think I'm going to try and get some sleep," she could hear him say.
"You? Sleep? That's a first," Alek laughed, raising an eyebrow at his best friend.
Revan merely shrugged. "I'll try anything once."
She kept her eyes on him as they said goodnight and Revan walked towards his tent. He walked by her.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" he said without so much as sparing her a glance.
"Wha—" she began as he turned around and gave her a small smile. "You caught me," she said, heat creeping onto her face. He nodded in smug satisfaction and walked back towards her, lowering a hand to help her up.
"So are you going to tell me why you're so intent on reading me, or are we going to awkwardly pretend like this never happened?" He threw her a cocky grin, but as much as she begged her lips to form a smile, she found she couldn't. Her mind was too heavy and the very Force within her itched to connect to him. Only then did she realize that she was still clutching his hand and let go, letting her eyes wander back to the now dwindling fire as everyone else dispersed, heading towards their respective tents.
"I'm worried about you," she said at last, daring herself to meet his gaze.
His cocky grin was gone, replaced by the same intense gaze he held by the fire. Narrowed eyes glanced around them before he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Worry about yourself, worry about your troops, worry about the damned Mandalorians before you ever worry about me." Her breath hitched as his grip intensified, releasing a sharp pain as her nerves cried out and caused her to try and squirm out of his hold on her.
He looked pained for a moment, but only a moment before he loosened his grip and let his hand fall. She shook her head. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not here," he murmured distractedly. With a brief glance around them he nodded towards his tent. She followed him wordlessly and when he let her in she couldn't help her wandering eyes from memorizing every detail. Not many people had been in his tent—she wasn't even sure Alek had seen it. There were datapads, ancient books on Mandalorians, and different maps and charts strewn across the floor, marked up presumably for strategy. Beyond the mess was a crumpled cot, looking like he had beaten it up more than he had slept on it.
He brought a hand to his face, pulling the skin upwards and out as he groaned, "Sorry for the mess". She smiled as she wandered further within the tent to get a better look at what exactly he had strewn across the floor and walls.
"So this is how the genius works? In complete chaos?" her voice was even, but she could feel a tremble building in her hands as she felt his eyes on her. She turned to face him, his eyes snapping upwards to meet hers.
He shrugged. "There is no chaos, there is harmony."
She cocked a brow at him. "Do you really believe that?"
His dark eyes held hers for a long moment before he shook his head. Looking down at his hands he spoke, "Chaos and harmony coexist naturally in the universe. Without one, the other is virtually impossible. To pretend one doesn't exist is idiotic."
She fumbled with her sleeve, ever aware that they were now avoiding eye contact. Revan was a strange creature, but exactly that. To call him human would be calling an ocean a mere lake. "I think they mean within yourself, dummy," she said as lightheartedly as she could manage.
He shot her a quick glare, but it melted into a smile. "I was talking about within yourself," he said with a bit of exaggeration, and then for effect, "dummy."
"Of course you were," she prodded as she clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace on the small section of cleared floor. "So explain this to me, then. How can a Jedi harbor both chaos and harmony and continue the path of the light?"
His eyes returned to hers, sharper, more in focus and she could tell his mind was at work. "Tell me, miss Meetra, do you feel harmonious? Do you believe yourself to have inner peace right now?"
"If it weren't for this damned war, yes."
"Don't lie to yourself...and more importantly, me," he said with a cocky grin, sobering before he continued, "I sense the chaos building in your mind, looking for just a simple, small crack to destroy the walls around it."
"I don't feel chaotic," she replied stoically. "I can feel death around me, tangible and dangerous, but it doesn't rule over me. And I hardly think death is comparable to chaos."
If it were possible, his dark eyes grew darker, his expression harder. She swallowed roughly as he came a step too close, placing a hand on the crook between her neck and shoulder, his calloused fingers stroking that delicate skin. "What about now?" he asked quietly. "Do you feel it now?".
She could feel his breath swim over the bridge of her nose and on her cheek, its warmth and closeness suddenly very appealing. And she tried to swallow again, but her throat wouldn't budge. She was vaguely aware of how alone they were and how utterly powerless she was when she was with him. She nodded solemnly, aware of the conflicting feelings suddenly blatantly apparent. She had never been touched by a man before, never even considered it until she heard rumors of the other Jedi abandoning the rules after their newfound freedom from the Order. Even then she never considered it, even as a way to escape the mounting tension from the war.
But the only tension she felt now was between her and Revan, standing close and merely holding each others gaze. His hand remained on her, poised to lead this conversation wherever it was going next.
She covered it with hers, moving it away from her body. "You're distracting me," she said quietly.
But he remained close, and she was only half aware that her hand still held his. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "From what?"
"Revan," she said sternly, trying to break free from his distracting stare. "Please don't hide from me, I know you."
His eyes fell from hers to the ground, and he brought his other hand to his forehead. "You think so? These days I hardly feel like I know myself anymore."
Her expression softened and her mind raced to find something to say. It wasn't often that anyone got a good insight into Revan's mechanical thought process, and even now she didn't know what to think, especially with that opening.
"Why?" was all she managed.
"I feel it, Meetra," he half turned away from her, shifting his weight to make it look natural. "I feel it."
"Feel what?"
His head snapped back to lock eyes with her. "The universe, this war, battle, every single man out there, even the Mandalorians. They're fighting for more than just their lives, and I can't stop myself, I can't stop my mind. I let our people down, I let them die today. The galaxy is changing, and I can't keep up. I'm trying, Meetra. I don't sleep, I can't eat, I have spilled my blood across the Republic and I'm afraid it won't be enough."
Not knowing what else she could do, she closed the gap between them and hesitantly snaked her arms around his middle. "It will be," she breathed into his chest.
He was reluctant to receive the hug, and even then he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away at an arms' distance. "Please don't," he nearly pleaded, and she hardly realized how shallow she was breathing. She had never seen him like this, and before, sitting by the fire, she thought she liked it. She wanted to be his comfort, his source of solace, but now it caused fear in every cell of her body. His eyes held an intensity that she had never seen before, even when he began his crusade against the Jedi Order.
"Have you heard enough?" he suddenly asked, catching her off guard from her strayed thoughts. "Is this what you came for, are you satisfied now?"
Aware that she couldn't hide anything from him, she nearly bowed her head in shame. "I don't know what I'm doing, Revan. I—I don't know what to expect."
"This is war, you can't expect anything," he said, a quiet anger burning behind his words. She sensed it was directed more towards himself than anything or anyone else.
She hesitated before she asked the question looming in her mind, and even then it came out as the faintest whisper, "Do you think we'll win?"
The blood seemed to drain from his face and he had to sit on the edge of the cot, causing a worry deep in her bones, begging her to leave and run away from all of this. But he nodded, reluctantly at first, looking dead ahead of him. He turned his attention back to her. "I do," he said resolutely. "I really do. I'm just afraid of what it's going to take…what the cost will be."
She hesitated before sitting next to him, resting her hands on her knees and pulling mindlessly at the fabric there. Her mind eased a bit, knowing that he was still ten steps ahead of the rest of them. What still worried her though was the way he avoided eye contact, opting instead to rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands.
She wondered numbly if she should leave, if her presence was unwanted...that maybe he was just waiting for her to slip out and go back to her own tent. But she thought she'd offer him one last gesture of support, and if he was unwilling to accept she would leave with a quiet grace, no matter how much she didn't want to. Her fingers fell limp and she draped her arm across his back, securing her hold on him as she pressed her cheek into his shoulder, just for a few moments before she prepared herself to leave.
He was eerily still, and she wondered what exactly he was warring with in his mind. He turned too quickly for her to get a good look at his face, to see what exactly what his expression was, but she was glad when he leaned into her shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around her middle. It was as if he couldn't bear to let her go, and she was sure the meaning behind it was lost on her.
"Stay with me tonight," he breathed into her shoulder. It wasn't a question, it was a command. She was his general, who was she if she didn't obey his orders? She felt her heart pick up the pace as he let go and leaned back into the cot. She wordlessly followed, laying next to him and watching as he looked up at the ceiling, the echo of pain still evident on his face. He turned his head towards her, lifting a hand to trace his knuckle along her jaw.
"Don't be afraid," he said, and the words carried a thousand meanings. She watched his eyes as he stared intently at her jaw. Once more it was obvious how lost in his thoughts he was and she found herself wondering just why he wanted her in his bed.
She was suddenly so unsure. Unsure of how far he wanted to go, unsure if she was ready at all. But he was lost in that beautiful mind of his, moving his hand to her waist and drawing simple arcs with his thumb against her loose robes, though it didn't seem he was quite aware he was doing so.
She felt his soft lips press against her temple in the sweetest sense of comfort. He returned to the pillow and shifted on his side as he pulled her closer to him, closer than she had ever been to him; to anyone. His grip slackened before he pulled her even closer than before, as if it wasn't enough for him pressing his muscled body against hers, covering one of her legs with his. When he closed his eyes, she realized that he had no intentions of going any further and she smiled because it was such a Revan thing to do.
She watched as he breathed evenly, knowing full well that he was still awake and probably waiting for her to fall asleep before he went back to his maps and charts. But she learned her lesson tonight, the Revanchist wasn't impenetrable, he wasn't fearless. She smiled to herself, and with that she shifted her shoulders more comfortably and drew her attention to his warm hand on her body and long leg intertwined with hers. She nuzzled her head into his chest, resting it just below his jaw, taking a deep, comforting breath.
He was Revan, soon to be savior of the Republic, of that she was sure. She just wasn't sure where she fit into his plans, into his future. But for now she was in his arms, where no one else was and where no one else had been. She wasn't going to worry about how he felt about her or she him. As he had told her before, this was war. She couldn't expect anything.