He had always liked to watch her sleep. During the Mandalorian Wars, the stress and fatigue of carrying the burden of the entire Republic Fleet would melt away for a few precious hours, and he would imagine her just as she was on Courascent or Dantooine. She had been young, idealistic and so full of life. She had been all the vibrancy and brilliance of the Force itself; a light that cut through the surrounding darkness.
Now she was was his dark angel, his goddess, his lover, and his tormentor. It was true that the Dark Side twisted and warped a person beyond all recognition, he saw that now. They had both scoffed at the old Jedi superstition when they started their search for the Star Forge, but she had been his angel of mercy then. Now all she craved was power. Power enough to strengthen the dying Republic, power enough to unleash her might upon those who would oppose her, power enough to kill whatever it was she saw in the Unknown Regions. He wondered if her old love of the Republic was still there, if she still sought to protect it from what haunted her dreams. Did she even remember her own goal?
He dimly remembered the days when he loved her like a fellow Jedi and brother. He was still unsure of when the line between friendship and lust had become blurred for her – but when she came to his bed one night, he could hardly say no. She had always been right, her strength in the Force proved that, and he allowed his brotherly, protective feelings for her bleed into something else entirely. He swore to himself that it had been about love and loyalty to her, but now he wasn't so sure.
When they had started this – whatever it was – it wasn't supposed to be this way. It had been about feeling alive, living in the moment, and embracing the emotions which the Jedi had taught them not to feel. It wasn't about love anymore, if it had ever been. He could not use the word 'fracking', either – a word so vulgar could never describe Revan in anything she did. The very thought was blasphemous to her; she was an angel of death, but an angel nonetheless.
Her old master once said that she could never be less than herself, and he wondered if the darkness that consumed her now had always been there. How could the Jedi not sense it, then; or was it merely a seed planted by the old woman that had come to bloom? Revan had changed so much and yet was exactly the same. She still had her lofty goals, her spirit and determination, she just used them differently now. Her purposes were her own, and her passion for life now demanded death. There was irony somewhere in that, but he was becoming too dark to see it clearly himself.
A lifetime ago, he would have done anything she asked of him. Now she was starting to distance herself from him. Even in their private rooms, he didn't dare call her anything but master. The power of the dark side was her only love now, and it cut her off from everyone else. He still loved her, he always would. He just didn't know when she had stopped loving him.