FOOL ME ONCE
She is not supposed to be beautiful. Of that, Carth Onasi is certain.
Every night since Revan's fall from grace, every night since the Mandalorian Wars, he has tossed and turned in his sleep, his durasteel cot groaning beneath him, his legs so tangled up in the sheets that he looks something like a caterpillar – afraid to break out of its cocoon, afraid to change, afraid to fly. And every night, amidst said tossing and turning, he has seen her face.
It seems dryly ironic that, despite Revan's taking great care to always conceal her visage in that ancient mask, Carth Onasi's image of her is so, so vivid. Eyes like wild, golden fire. Cheekbones sharper than vibroblades. Lips deftly carved into a savage smile. Long fingers sparking scarlet lightning in her lightsaber's wake. Pallid complexion offset by splotches of macabre red war-paint, drained from the veins of noble men.
As Carth Onasi tossed and turned, sucked into a vortex of nightmares and ghosts, he would hear her laugh. It was not a human sound, but it was feminine, soft and musical and sweet. The laugh would fill his ears, and then it would grow louder and louder until it eclipsed his hearing, and he would plunge into static white noise. Silent. Except for her voice, so close to his face, her breath tickling his ear as his life dripped slowly out of him.
I wanted you to see it, Onasi. I wanted you to watch.
Watch what?
I wanted you, Revan would breathe against his cheek, to watch them die.
Who?
The ones you love.
And every night, startled by said tossing and turning, Carth Onasi has come awake in a cold sweat. He has buried his head in his hands. He has lifted his eyes and stared into the darkness.
But this is the first time in many, many nights that someone has stared back.
Her eyes are oceans in the darkened crew quarters of the Ebon Hawk, deep and fierce and overwhelming, so blue he tries to drown in them.
"Hey, beautiful," he mumbles in a sleepy, stumbling voice.
She lays a hand on his shoulder. Only now does he find that he's shaking. "Are you alright?" she asks.
No, says a small, dark, haunted voice that grips his heart like frozen talons.
Yes, says another voice, warm and radiant and spreading across his skin like sunlight. Yes, yes, yes, and more than alright. And he looks into the oceans of her eyes and sees not a shred of who they say she is, not a shard of the evil that rears up in his dreams, not even an echo of the woman who destroyed him.
He sees her – only her – and he is reassembled.
Her fingertips trace the stubble on his jaw. "A nightmare...?"
"Not anymore," he says thickly.
She presses her lips to his, and he lets her, desperate to lose himself in this kiss, desperate to touch that brilliant flash of belief that they can become one beautiful thing in this damned hell of a world.
She pulls away. He swears his racing heart is a drumbeat in the stillness.
He laughs against her face, rough and teasing. "You know, it's better if you breathe."
She smiles, and grips both sides of his face, and says, "Shut up and kiss me."
She doesn't have to ask twice.
His hands are on her face, his fingers tangled in her hair. The same air is breathed between them, the same heat flushes their faces, the same light dawns in their eyes, and for a moment he swears they have become one person – two stars drawn by fathomless laws into a collision in the darkness, an explosion of brightness that for a split second blacks out both of Tatooine's twin suns.
She is not supposed to be beautiful. But when their lips collide, everything they are, every scar they bear, every piece of the shattered world around them is a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful piece of a picture he believes in like he believes in breathing.
Revan fooled him once, tricked him into the lie that she had never been the woman he loved.
Never again, he swears an oath to the skies. Never again.
Not until forever ends.
~x~X~x~
A/N: So if you're wondering where I've been, I can explain.
1) I'm writing a YA fantasy novel. That sucks up most of my writing time. Occasionally I take a break & write something short like this. Find me on Figment under Laura Genn to read some of my short stories and poetry, if you like.
2) I dislocated my left knee on Sunday. As in, I'm on crutches and a leg brace and went to the ER in an ambulance with a morphine IV in my arm. Thank God, it could have been worse. It'll heal. But needless to say, I'm not thrilled.
3) I'm a writer for bucksreality . com so look up my newspaper articles!
4) I've been actually published for the first time by The Old Schoolhouse Magazine. Find my article "Forgotten Sword: The Power of Writing" for free in the February issue online.
I'm playing through KotOR as a LSF FemRevan on my third playthrough, my first with MODs. And I am so obsessed with this pairing. Excuse the fluff, okay? Just... Carth. I can never play as a Dark Side female thanks to him...
May the Force be with you!
R&R to make a fifteen year old, writer/dreamer's day!
