The Disparity of a Grey Jedi
She can't remember when things started feeling like this. She knows there was a war, and a best friend. She knows there was pain, then nothingness. Deaf and blind for ten long years. Stripped of her future, her title, her power, she wandered. She thinks she must've started feeling like this while she was wandering, because everything before that is fuzzy. She knows it wasn't always like this, though.
She knows she was a Jedi, once. She knows that she had friends, friends she'd have done anything for. She knows she was betrayed by those friends.
She knows that now, she doesn't care.
She has her power back, and she loves it. She can feel everything again, even the pain, but that's all right. The pain never went away, and now she has things to distract her from it. Things like the people she meets, the ones she decides to bring along with her and the ones she chooses to leave behind.
That's what it's all about, really. Choice. Power. Power over life and death, hope and fear, love and hate. She defends one man from the thugs trying to beat him, then turns down the one begging for credits. One woman is told to join her daughter as a slave; a pilot is found for the next.
Her pilot asks her why she does that, why she swings back and forth between the two extremes. She stares at him, wondering how to explain it. How to explain the rush of the decision, of the moment when the people begging for help know that their fate is in her hands. She can't, she decides, so she smiles at him as she replies.
"Because I can!"
She can feel he's confused, and a little scared, as she skips away.
Her path is the only right way. She knows she's not a Sith—she didn't fall, she didn't turn like Revan did—the Sith took Revan away from her. She knows she's not a Jedi, because the Jedi caused the war, the Jedi took away her power. The Jedi took Revan away from her too, when they made a Sith Lord into a prodigal Knight. Now she'll never get Revan back.
She brings her companions along with her down this path. She remembers how it felt to be connected with all those around her, and so she does it again, instinctively. She can feel the tech's confusion, the pilot's guilt, the old woman's calm. She likes her connections to other people's emotions, because she stopped feeling a long time ago and she likes to remember sometimes.
She does what she wants, and there's no one to answer to. There's no one to tell her how to use her power, no one to preach at her about the light or try to seduce her with the dark. There's just the smoke, and it makes no demands of her.
