When He Saw Her
By Half-Elf
AN: This is what comes of boredom and insomnia. I started playing Knights again and the idea for this story just sort of popped into my head. So read on and I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Knights of the Old Republic" or any of the characters therein. I am not making a profit from this story.
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The first time he saw her, he wasn't really paying attention.
To be fair, he was busy guiding her through a ship of hostiles. When she finally burst into the room, he looked at her only to catalog her injuries and to guide her to the escape pod. In the confines of the small pod, he subconsciously noted the graceful frame, soft curves, and gentle heat pressed against him but he was too busy trying to guide them down as safely as possible, so the information was filed for future perusal.
The crash was a blur as everything went to hell in an instant. Burning through the atmosphere tore apart the limited directional controls available to him. They began to spin, the g-forces pressing them back into their seats. The skyscrapers were approaching quickly. He glanced over at his companion, she was clutching the harness in a white knuckled grip and her eyes were clenched shut. He opened his mouth to shout a reassurance when the world went black.
The second time he saw her, she was bruised and bloody.
He awoke to pain and the groan of metal. Shaking the fogginess from his mind, he saw her. The restraints must've snapped on impact because she was lying on the floor of the pod. He scrambled over to her and let out a relieved sigh when he felt the steady beat of her pulse.
Gently, carefully, he removed her from the wreckage. Blinking the blood from his eyes, he focused on the apartment building not far away. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her away from the wreckage to the relative safety of indoors.
The apartment was a godsend. Placing her on the bed, he stripped her down to dress her wounds. He didn't notice she was a woman, didn't notice the softness of her skin. He only noticed the gashes, burns, and bruises her skin was colored with.
Washing her free of blood, he went to work with the meager healing supplies they had. Of all the fresh wounds that littered her body, the only one that caused him any concern was the knot on the side of her head.
For the next three days, he saw only her coloring, her breathing, and the way she fretfully tossed in her sleep. Finally, though, his own injuries and the weariness of constant vigilance pulled him under.
The third time he saw her, she was beautiful.
She finished the rough cleanup job he started days earlier and together they emerged into the Taris sunlight. He was caught by her smoky gray eyes and the flames in her hair as she quickly redid the braid that tamed the wavy mass. He noticed the graceful way her lithe body moved. And he couldn't help but notice the sway of her hips as she walked in front of him.
So sue him, he was still a man, even if he was a Republic Commander. And she was something to look at.
The fourth time he saw her, she was a fighter, a soldier.
He knew she could fight, she had to be able to in order to make it off the Endar Spire, but when they first fought together, he was surprised. She may not have been the most powerful fighter he'd seen but she was surely one of the most graceful. There were a few times, a very few mind you, that he was distracted during a fight because he was snared by her deadly dance.
But, more important than how, was why she fought. She didn't fight to conquer or intimidate, she fought to protect. She stood up for what was right. And that was a trait he admired.
She earned his respect.
The fifth time he saw her, she was a leader.
She took a group of strangers and made them into something more. She acted as the voice of reason during many of the squabbles that are bound to occur within a group of people in such close confines. Hell, she was able to play peacemaker between him and the Jedi Princess. And that certainly took some skill.
She put herself in harms way in order to get them where they needed to be. But she didn't do so recklessly. There was thought and consideration behind each move she made although she didn't hesitate when an opportunity presented itself. She would've made a fine Commander in the Republic.
What he admired the most though, was her desire to protect "her" people. It was almost funny to see that protection extend to a seven foot tall Wookie and a battle hardened Mandalorian. Less funny when she risked herself to protect him.
He watched her take up the mantle of leadership without hesitation. Like she was born to lead. She bore the heavy weight with strength and grace.
It was no wonder they followed her.
But she never asked for blind obedience. She never asked them for more than they were willing to give. And she never asked them to do what she would not do herself.
She did not lead with fear.
She led by inspiring them to follow.
The sixth time he saw her, she was compassionate.
As soon as the danger of the Sith blockade had passed he moved to find Mission. Seeing an entire world bombarded was horrifying. When it was your home, it was even worse. And he would know.
When he found her, she was sobbing in her arms.
He braced himself in the door to watch as she comforted the grief stricken Mission. She held her close, rocked her gently, and whispered to her in a soothing tone. Not lies. If it was one thing he learned about her, she abhorred liars. Instead of telling her that everything's all right, she told her stories.
She wove tales of magic and wonder, stories mother's told children before bed. She kept her voice even and soft, full of peace. Mission cried herself to sleep in her arms.
While she held the sleeping girl, she met his eyes and he was surprised by the pain and heartache he found there. She felt for them; for the people they met on Taris, for Mission. She laid her down, tucked her in, and wiped away the tear that still trailed down her cheek.
He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and she froze before leaning into him, absorbing his warmth and strength. He watched the pain ebb from her eyes, replaced by determination. Gripping his hand in silent thanks, she smiled and moved on. Her empathy for others hidden behind her iron will.
But he saw it. He saw it when they faced Juhani and she convinced her to return to the light. He saw it when she worked to restore HK-47's memory. And he saw it when she listened to the war stories of a battered Mandalorian.
The seventh time he saw her, she was annoying.
She really was the most damned persistent woman he'd ever met, not to mention stubborn, pig-headed, difficult, and a whole other list of adjectives. Combine that with a wicked sense of humor and a sharp wit and she really was trouble.
She teased and joked with all the crew, he swore he saw Canderous actually blush once, but he seemed to be her favorite target. And she could be merciless. Nothing was safe from her. Almost nothing anyways. She never teased about his past or his wife and son. His favorite jacket on the other hand…
But he admired her wit, her quickness of mind. Verbally sparing with her was one of his favorite pastimes during the quiet of hyperspace travel. Her eyes would glow with anticipation whenever she approached. His blood would flow a little hotter.
Foreplay.
That's what it seemed like to him. And by the smirk on her face when she turned to leave, it was like that for her too. At the end of one of their verbal matches, he was torn between the desire to kiss her or strangle her.
Admirably, he held back on both accounts.
Then there was her flirting. She flirted with him every chance she got. Though, to be fair, he did the same. They didn't mean anything by it though. Just pure fun.
But he never saw her use her wiles to get her way. In fact, the men who did approach her in that manner, and there were more than a few, were always brushed off. Although he had threatened a few anyways because of their lack of respect. He ignored why that made him feel so good.
The eighth time he saw her, she was a friend.
He hadn't had a friend in a long time. He had companions and he had acquaintances but no friends. And he didn't think that was unreasonable considering his last one brought a base down around his ears.
But there was something about her. She had crawled under his skin, lodged herself so deep he couldn't even begin to think of removing her.
He wasn't sure he'd want to even if he could.
And what amazed him most was that she wasn't trying. Everything she did was natural. There was no play-acting. She spoke her mind whether you liked it or not.
But you could laugh with her. You could talk with her. She would always find time to lend a hand or listen to whatever you had on your mind. And you could trust her to call you out whenever you sunk too deep or slacked off.
There were a number of nights they spent in each other's company in the cockpit, the quiet of hyper space all around them. They spoke of their plans and told off-color jokes.
In the few months they were together she learned more about him than people who knew him for years.
But above all that, he knew he could count on her to watch his back, both in a fight and out of one. Her word was good as gold and her promise strong as durasteel. She did what very few had ever done.
She had earned his trust.
The ninth time he saw her, she betrayed him.
An instant. That was all it took. One instant and he felt his heart being ripped out. One instant and his entire world shifted.
How could she be Revan?
It was impossible… wasn't it?
It had to be. And yet… Saul Karath had such an unholy glee in his eyes when he said it. He knew his dying words would cut his old friend deep… He was right.
But, after a brief explosion and a threat to Bastila, he focused on the task at hand. He wasn't able to meet her eyes. Though, much to his disgust, he wasn't able to stop looking out for her. Opponents who were a threat to her were targeted first. He gritted his teeth in annoyance.
Then Malak was before them and his rage exploded. And he was thrown back with nothing but a wave of the hand.
He heard Malak's mocking tone as he fought to clear his head. Then he pulled back in shock… She didn't know? How could she not know? She had to. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered, 'She's known all along.'
Everything else flew by in a blur as adrenaline surged through his body. He remembers chasing after Bastila, watching her charge Malak, then the clang of the bulkhead door. He watched as… Revan pounded her fists against the door, desperate to get to her friend. When he pulled her away he saw the determination and compassion clear on her face.
Just as it always was.
The tenth time her saw her, she was confusing.
He had spent years hating her, hating Revan, but the woman who stood before him… he couldn't bring himself to hate.
She had betrayed him twice now. First when she returned as a conqueror, destroying what he had fought so hard to protect. To see someone who had stood so stalwartly against the evil of the galaxy succumb to it… He had trusted her and she had turned on them.
Her second betrayal was more personal. Much more personal… But when he had time to think… He couldn't really claim she betrayed him when she hadn't known herself.
He knew she was supposed to be a hated enemy, second only to Malak himself, but he couldn't see her as anyone other than the woman who had fought along side him for so long.
But she wasn't. She was Revan. She had terrorized the galaxy. Crushed those who stood against her…
But Revan wasn't the brutal one… was she? Malak was. Revan was cold, calculating… but she was never deliberately cruel.
And the woman next to him definitely wasn't cold. She cared about her crew, cared about the people they met. She was warm and welcoming.
But was that truly who she was? Was this who she was before the war?
Or was this done by the Jedi? Will it all go away?
Who really was this woman he realized he was falling in love with?
The eleventh time he saw her, she was the same.
He was stupid.
Very stupid.
Or, as Canderous put it, a thick-skulled rancor with his head so far up his… tail… that he couldn't tell a good thing if it smacked him upside the head… That was an interesting conversation. And though he hated to admit it, Canderous was right.
He had wasted hours trying to force her back into the box he filed everyone into. Hours trying to convince himself that she was somehow different from the woman he bantered with on those long hyperspace flights, different from the woman who had held a sobbing Mission in her arms.
But she wasn't different. And he seemed to be the only one of them who had doubted that.
But no longer. He was done denying her and what he felt for her. He was ready to look toward the future, his and hers.
The twelfth time he saw her, she was everything.
They had been through so much together; danger and hardship and excitement… He had seen her at her worst and her best and he still couldn't turn away. She knew his many faults, but she stayed with him, even when he wouldn't have blamed her for leaving.
Her patience touched him. Her understanding calmed him. Her passion enflamed him.
Her love humbled him.
He had lived in darkness too long. Consumed with the need for revenge he had become a shadow of his former self; angry and withdrawn. She changed all that.
He had a new future now. They had a new future together.
She was everything.
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AN: I know it was a sappy ending but, what can I say, sometimes I'm just in the mood for sappy. But I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought.