Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from KOTOR.

Note: Thanks to Code name: Anrui Yuy for beta reading this for me.

I never hated the Jedi council for what they did to my mind. I was very bitter for a very long time, but I never let that bitterness tip over into hatred. I knew what that could lead to. Eventually, when I had a home, a loving fiancée and devoted friends, I even managed to find some measure of forgiveness for them.

Now, perversely, I wish they'd do it again.

I don't wish for the destruction of my entire mind, like the first time. There's a lot I've done over the last few years that I'm proud of. There are a lot of people who I cherish. What I do want is for several months of my memories to be obliterated completely.

The pregnancy was completely unplanned. I never dreamed that one day I might be a mother; Carth and I didn't discuss the possibility of having a baby. Although he never mentioned it I always thought that there was a small part of him, which might exist even now, that considered our relationship to be a betrayal of his wife's memory. In our first year together a child would have been too much; to him it would have been a denial of his first family, an assertion that they'd never existed. Even though Morgana had been dead for years, and his relationship with Dustil was stormy at the best of times, he loved them both deeply. Still does. That's not as hard to cope with as you might think. Every now and then I'll remember something that Malak did when we were young and training, and feel a brief rush of affection. If I can have tender feelings for a Sith lord who tried to kill me on numerous occasions, I can certainly understand why Carth still loves and misses his wife and son desperately. But that's a story for another time.

I didn't discover that I was pregnant until after I'd left Telos for the Unknown Regions. After I found out I debated seriously with myself whether to turn back or carry on. I was heading into great danger, and I seriously doubted whether the baby growing inside me would survive the trials ahead. But when Canderous and the droids found me, I felt that I had enough help to continue.

I thought I'd managed to sneak off Telos unnoticed. I'd erased any record of where the Ebon Hawk was going from the computer terminals in the docking bay; I even paid the workers two hundred credits each not to give out any information about me. But I didn't count on how threatening HK-47 and Canderous can be, especially when they combine forces. After the unfortunate Ithorian who organised my departure had been threatened with a sound beating, he reluctantly divulged the information they wanted.

They found me on Nar Shaddaa, where I'd headed to first to stock up on supplies. I was sitting in the seedy cantina, playing a lonely game of pazaak with myself and nursing a glass of the least alcoholic drink they sold. T3 beeped happily and zoomed over to me. The other two looked less thrilled. I refused to go back with them when they begged me to, and at first I maintained that they were not allowed to accompany me. But when HK did a scan of me and announced that I was pregnant, Canderous resolutely refused to leave my side. So I agreed to let them come with me, secretly glad for the extra support although I was weighed down with guilt at the thought of the danger I was leading my friends into.

It happened about three months later. We'd not long left the Mid Rim, and had just landed on some backwater planet. Canderous had left the Hawk for the local cantina, accompanied by HK. I was left alone with T3 for the night. I was in the cockpit when It happened. I don't remember much; mostly feelings and sounds. A hot, throbbing pain that began below my navel and seeped through the rest of my body. It crippled me, bringing me to my knees. I bled, but didn't understand that the blood was coming from me. When the realisation of what was happening hit me, I began to sob. I didn't cry; there were never any tears. Just great, wrenching sobs that made my whole body shudder. T3 screeched somewhere in the background, his mechanical voice somehow managing to sound panicked. He was almost as frantic as I was, aware that there was something wrong with me but not knowing how he could help. Eventually he left the ship in search of the others, and was gone for what seemed like hours.

The next few days are a blur in my memory. I think I was ill; it felt like I was suffering through the worse fever I'd ever experienced. Canderous looked after me as best as he could, but his knowledge of medicine was limited; he specialised in causing wounds rather than healing them. I do remember that he showed a tenderness I never would have expected from him. He combed my hair carefully and pulled it back in a ponytail to stop it tangling when I thrashed. When I vomited up the dinner he'd prepared for me he'd cook another dish, then another, and another, until he finally found something I could keep down. On the really bad nights, the ones where my skin would burn and I'd see terrifying visions, he'd spend hours at my bedside and held me as I whimpered.

Several weeks later, when I was well enough to walk again, I deserted him. Just got up in the night and slipped out of the ship. As far as I know, Canderous only discovered my disappearance when he knocked on my door and received no reply the next morning. I felt awful about it, especially after everything he had done for me. But something crucial had changed between us. Whether you follow the Light or Dark path, if you have a lightsaber in your back pocket people tend to see you as invulnerable. As a Sith Lord I brought the galaxy to its knees. As ad Jedi Knight I saved it. Most people see me as more machine than human. My friends, who I have lost countless games of pazaak to and who have seen me coo over gizka, know me better. Canderous was in between the two. He's always been a close companion, but after discovering my true identity he treated me with a deep respect that bordered on reverence. After It happened, after he spent weeks nursing me back to health, the look of admiration had been replaced by one of pity. That was slightly more than I could handle.

I never found out what caused It. I probably could, now that I'm back on Telos with its many medical experts. I don't doubt that they could run tests and tell me what happened. But that would mean telling Carth. I could try and keep it a secret but, being practically famous, he knows almost everyone in Citadel Station. Sooner or later, someone would tell him. Sometimes I feel guilty about keeping this from him. Over our time together he's shared so much with me, unearthed many painful memories because he felt I should know about his past. Besides, he's always hated being kept in the dark; he'd much rather be told the truth, however much it hurts, than be kept in ignorance. But he's been through far too much pain over the last few years, thanks in no small part to me. I refuse to burden him with any more.

The worse part isn't the memory of what actually happened. After I discovered I was pregnant, when I wasn't worrying about having to tell Carth, I daydreamed about what my daughter would be like. (There was never a doubt in my mind that my child would be a girl. I didn't know how I knew, I just did.) I always pictured her with dark, curly hair. I don't know why because, although Carth and I are both dark, there's not so much as a wave in our hair. Green eyes like mine; tall like Carth.

I liked to imagine the doting family she would grow up in. Mission, the mischievous aunt who would forever get her into trouble. Bastila would despair of them both, but would love them in spite of herself. She would always be protected by Zalbaar and Canderous, who would adore her in their own way. I shuddered to think about the kind of things HK would teach her. I always hoped that Dustil would grow at least fond of her, but I wasn't sure how he'd feel about a child that was Carth's but not Morgana's.

I knew that there would be many fights, because she would be just as stubborn and obstinate as her parents. But I knew she would love us just as fiercely as we would love her. I'd try to imagine what path she'd choose in life. Would she be like her mother, and train to be a Jedi? Or would she take an interest in piloting, like her father? Either way, it would mean hours of fretting for me and Carth.

Now, years later, it's these idle, hopeful imaginings that haunt me, never allowing me to forget the painful memory.