In a Name

by Kleptomite

It was a shame she might die with him never knowing her name, when it was the only thing she had always been afraid to tell him.

In a Name

Brianna could never have imagined how horribly painful force lightning was. Her Mistress had described the powers of the dark side to her once; when she had seen it fit to share with her, and Handmaiden had witnessed countless sith in her journey with the Exile who utilized it. But never had it even brushed her skin, and never had she withstood the full brunt of it like she did now.

She lay on the floor, practically crippled as the force enhanced lightning skated across her skin, sending spasms of searing pain through every vein in her body. She experienced the dark side to its fullest extent, and never had she felt so weak and afraid. Through the screams of agony, her mind cursed her own arrogance, it cursed Kreia, it cursed her sisters and it cursed Atris the most. Atris, the woman who had so fervently and stonily railed against the darkside, shamelessly and sadistically tortured her with it now. Brianna's Jedi robes, salvaged from Dantooine, smoked and began to char, burning away as the lightning ravaged her skin, lacing her shoulders with burns until it resembled a maze of vengeful red trenches. She gritted her teeth to hold back the pitiful screams mounting in her throat, because the pain was more intense than anything she had ever imagined. It stopped for a moment, and through the howling of her nerves, she heard Atris' icy voice. Her former Mistress kneeled down, lording over her, and brought her poisonous lips close to Brianna's ear.

"Did you love him?" She whispered, voice hollow and bitter, "Did you ever think he would look upon you with love?"

The last of the Handmaiden's vision was rimmed with black; she could feel her senses and body collapsing from the excruciating pain slithering through her body. She heard the snaking hiss of a lightsaber and knew she had failed, utterly and completely. Her vision went black as the heat of the lightsaber approached her neck.

Atris rose to her feet as soon as soon as the Exile stormed into the circular chamber, a second before delivering the final blow. Varen took in the five Handmaiden sisters lying unconscious on the ground, before his jerking eyes finally found Brianna, slumped on the ground. He reached inside of her with the force desperately, searching for anything resembling life. He found a small spark, but it was fizzling out quickly. His hardened eyes focused on Atris, whose entire aura radiated a monstrous red and black, and who still clutched his lightsaber in a deathly grip. Her eyes were maddened with resentment as she looked upon him, and indeed the sheer amount of hatred startled even him.

The once Jedi Master sneered at him, "I knew you would come."

Varen's eyes flicked back to Brianna's limp form. Anger flared within his chest like his heart was a volcano, "It was a mistake to hurt her, Atris. I know the dark side has consumed you, but I never thought you would stoop so low."

"Do not presume to condescend me," She snapped viciously, "You corrupted her; now both your presences have tainted this temple. Now you will both die as Exiles, as you both deserve."

Her force lightning snaked toward him in an instant. His lightsaber flickered to life and absorbed the lightning with little trouble, but his lips drew back into a grimace as the intense heat nearly blistered his hand. He snapped his wrist and redirected the lightning into the wall, before pouncing on the opportunity to get closer to the former Historian. He knew Atris better than most. She had only ever been a Historian, a librarian. He knew her knowledge of the force may be greater than his, but she had never practiced lightsaber combat to a greater extent as he had, confined to a library all her life as she had been. She seemed to know it as well. Her hand snapped up and conjured a force wave directed at him, but he barreled through it with sheer force of will. His green lightsaber crashed against her blue, and the duel commenced.

He battered her defensive stance with such power and fury it would have made his normal self nervous, but he was so frenzied with anger that he couldn't restrain himself. He held no punches as he slammed force enhanced blow after blow, not giving Atris even a moment to strike back. Blood pounded in his ears and his vision went red as he came tantalizingly close to being consumed entirely by his rage. Varen snapped the Historian's defense like a twig and slammed his fist down on the bridge of her nose. Her head rocked back and her feet left the ground. She stumbled backward and collapsed onto her forearms, breathless and shaking. Blood streamed from her nostrils and stained her white robes like she had spilled wine on them. Her lightsaber skidded across the floor, well out of her reach.

Varen hulked over her, eyes dark like coal. He raised his lightsaber over his head, prepared to strike the final blow, when a solitary voice managed to break through the blood craze clouding his mind. It was Brianna's. He wasn't sure if it was her consciousness mentally reaching out to him, or if it was his own psyche inventing the voice, but it succeeded in giving him pause.

"Do not kill her. She will die with her opinion of you vindicated, and you will be forever lost to all of us."

The grip on his lightsaber faltered, and all at once the rage drained out him, leaving him feeling completely and utterly empty. Atris wasted no time preying on his weakness. Her force wave caught him completely unaware. He flew backward and cracked against the wall, knocking the wind out of his chest. He struck the wall with such force he blacked out for a second. When his vision returned he saw Atris, lightsaber in hand, stumbling up the catwalk to her inner chambers. Varen, with a renewed sense of purpose as he realized Brianna was still in danger, pushed himself up and limped to the former Handmaiden. His spine groaned with every step. He could detect the spark of life in her through their force bond, and it was growing fainter by the second. He fell to his knees next to her and carefully held his hands just over her most intense burns. His heart fluttered staring down at the blood colored burns stretching from one shoulder to the next. The force flowed from his hands into her body like a river, soothing the horrific burns as he concentrated every ounce of energy he possessed into her wounds. After a few seconds, color returned to her pale face, and her body seemed to recover a portion of its youth as the force repaired her inner damages. When he was sure he had done all he could, he stood up and steeled himself for the final duel with Atris.

"Don't give in to your anger," He muttered to himself, as he marched steadily to her chamber doors, "She's safe now."

Atris' chamber was completely dark. Using his instincts, Varen walked to what he felt was the center of the chamber and focused. The room felt incredibly odd. Even the very darkness surrounding him felt unnatural and artificial. He searched for Atris, but his senses felt stifled like a dam blocking water, and she hid her aura well. His eyes shifted as he acclimated to the blackness, but even in her pure white robes Atris was invisible, which unsettled him as to the thickness of the darkness around him. He snapped his lightsaber to life, and half the chamber became illuminated green. He felt eyes boring into his back and he spun but there was nothing there. Suddenly, He felt dozens of presences individually studying him from every direction.

"Atris," He said warningly, "Show yourself. I'm not going to kill you."

All at once the entire room seemed to snap to life. Dozens of red lights snapped on all over the walls as he heard a lightsaber come to life directly behind him. Varen's survival instinct screamed at him and he ducked just as the lightsaber nearly separated his head from his shoulders. He whirled around and caught the return blow on his blade, shrugging off Atris' relatively weak offense and quickly jumping back into combat. At the same time he felt the presences still watching him impassively as the melee continued.

With his mind clear, he no longer attacked with the same unrelenting aggression as before. His offensive was more surgical as he quickly picked apart Atris' rusty defense. She hadn't used a lightsaber in a long time; it was apparent in her form. She attempted to feint him out and slice at his jaw, but he saw it coming and batted her lightsaber away with ease. On his riposte, she was still reeling and he managed to bisect her handle in two. The Historian yelled as his blade burned her finger. Varen grazed her knee and with a grimace she collapsed. Staring down at her, Atris looked the picture of bitterness and defeat. Her aura, once an uncontrolled red and black, was now a deflated gray.

A sharp hiss came from an invisible source, startling Varen as he became distinctly aware of the forces scrutinizing him again, and he couldn't help but feel the voice sounded incredibly satisfied. Varen returned his focus back to Atris, whose visage was the very picture of somebody who had just been betrayed.

"They've taken a liking to you," She murmured, "Typical for the sith I suppose."

Varen narrowed his eyes, but bit back any witty retort, "What else is in here with us?"

The Historian glared at him for a long moment, but finally gestured to the red lights on the wall, "Every light is a Sith Holocron. They have been watching us, and it seems their interest in me is gone."

The Exile's eyes widened. There were dozens of lights, extending up to the ceiling, "There must be dozens of them. How long have you been talking to them?"

"A long time," She whispered, "They have abandoned me, even after I have kept them safe and secure here on Telos. I should have expected it."

"Where is Kreia, Atris?" Varen demanded.

"That is not her name," She spat, "She has gone where all of this began. She awaits you at Malachor V, Exile, and she is sith. She was among your numbers the whole time, controlling you like a puppet."

Before Varen could reply, the sith Holocrons screeched and growled at them again. The Exile could scarcely understand them, but Atris seemed to know what they were saying perfectly as the color disappeared from her face.

"What happens now, Atris?" Varen asked. And he truly meant the question, because he was hardly sure how to handle the fallen Historian. He could sense a darker threat approaching Telos, and he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was. He didn't have the time to debate with Atris, or deal with her shady hoarding of sith Holocrons. It was certainly something that needed attention, but not when a World-Eater was on their doorstep.

She stared at him, but seemed to be looking through him like he wasn't really there. She hobbled to her feet, leaning heavily on her unwounded leg and attempted to stare him in the eye with as much dignity as she could muster. Dried blood coated her chin and robes, "Will you kill me?"

Varen looked down at her, for he was still much taller than her, and could only pity the fallen master as she attempted to collect what little scraps of grace she still possessed. As much as he despised Atris, he knew he couldn't have struck her down in his level headed state even if he wanted too, "I won't kill you. I'm not the evil man you think I am, Atris. The hatred you have for me consumed you, and these Holocrons you've been hiding away have been corrupting you. What you do is up to you, but I still have a journey to finish. A true threat is approaching Telos, and I'm going to face it no matter what you say."

Varen turned and began to walk away. Atris called after him, voice brittle, "You truly have changed, Exile."

The Exile glanced over his shoulder, "I don't think you ever knew me in the first place, Atris."

And he walked out of the chamber and left Atris forever.

When Brianna awoke, she immediately sensed a presence near her. Varen was unconscious in a cot that had been crammed into the medical bay. He looked oddly peaceful for somebody who had been through as much as he had. She stared at his handsome face for a time, memorizing each line and thinking about the story behind each one. Each line and scar was a different struggle that he had been a part of, and she couldn't help but wonder how somebody could go through so much and still be standing strong. She had learned much from their sparring sessions, but there still seemed to be secrets she hadn't unearthed. He moved and attacked with an almost primal instinct for survival, like he were used to fighting for his life and every single battle would be his last if he didn't put his all into every strike and blow. His stance was riddled with desperation but still firm with an unbreakable resolve and strength. Fighting him was like dueling no other, and Brianna suspected she would never meet anyone with an aura quite like his. He was utterly unique, and that interested her. She looked away as her cheeks became tinged pink. She was always scolding herself for such thoughts, but the little game they played, although it was usually only him messing with her instead of the other way around, made sure that every look exchanged between the two of them felt instantly flirtatious.

It wasn't something she had wanted to happen, but it seemed like every conversation he would purposely smirk at her and make her cheeks go red from embarrassment. She always made him pay for it though, when they returned to the Cargo Hold and she got to knock him around as much as she wanted. Whether he knew it or not, sparring with him was exceptionally thrilling to her. Greater than any fleeting glance or grazing touch he could offer her. She continued to contemplate him quietly, and even more so contemplate what exactly they were. Brianna was never quite sure what she was to him or what he was to her and it partially frustrated her.

But the burns on her shoulder began to throb and she winced. Remembering the training in healing Varen had given her; she channeled the force through her body and focused the healing on her most severe burns. Slowly, the throbbing lessened and she could think again without being distracted from the pain, atleast partially. She looked down and saw she was only in her underwear. Vicious, angry scars crisscrossed her stomach, arms and shoulders, marring her pale skin. Memories of Atris' lightning brought a bitter frown to her face; she tried to repress it as best she could.

She was alerted by the sound of clunky footsteps heading her way. The medical bay door, which had been left open to accommodate both beds, was suddenly filled with HK-47's bulky frame, "Confirmation: I see you are awake pale Meatbag. My sensors were correct."

Brianna nodded. She had never been so happy to see the Assassin droid in her life, "Is Varen okay?"

"Answer: According to your fellow Meatbags, the Master was worked to near exhaustion battling a Sith Lord, but he is stable. Indignant Aside: I truly do not understand why the Master did not think to bring me with him. I am perfectly versed in force sensitive assassination protocols after all."

"Thank you HK," Brianna muttered. She attempted to stand and get out of bed, but her legs felt like they could buckle any second.

"Interjection: I would not attempt to stand. Not that I am at all concerned for your safety, pale Meatbag, but I have realized that the Master would be incredibly displeased with me if I were to allow you to pass out on the medical bay floor like a fish out of water."

The former Handmaiden frowned, "What makes you say that?"

"Condescending Explanation: I was utilizing a technique called a simile in order to compare you to a fish, pale Meatbag. Are you experiencing any mental damages?"

"That's not what I meant," She snapped, "What do you mean Varen would be angry at you?"

HK's eyes flared a bright orange before dimming back to normal, "Explanation: As a lover of my former Master put it, I believe the master enjoys the thought of pressing his mucus covered lips to your pale, mucus covered lips and thus he would not like to see you harmed."

Brianna's cheeks flared red with both embarrassment and anger. It was bad enough to have regular people commenting on her and Varen's 'relationship', which Atton seemed to love to do, but to have a droid say it right to her face in such a matter-of-fact way made her feel like she could explode.

"We have never . . .," She began; only to be interrupted by a voice which made her heart fly into her throat.

"We're not there yet, HK," Varen grumbled, squinting up at the medical bay light, "Give me a little time would ya?"

"Statement: As you wish Master. It is a pleasure to see you alive and functional."

"Thanks," Varen grumbled. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and Brianna saw countless bruises and cuts all across his chest and back. Large splotches of purple covered his neck which appeared so brutal she winced and rubbed her own neck. She had taken blows to the throat before, and they resembled drowning. The Exile turned his head and coughed, but smiled grimly when he saw her staring, "Guess now you get to see your Master when he's vulnerable, Handmaiden. Are you alright?"

She nodded and smiled a tiny bit, "I'm fine, thank you. What happened? I thought I would die in that Academy."

"I showed up just in time to stop Atris," He said, sounding incredibly relieved, "We fought, and I defeated her."

She pondered what that could mean, but hesitated to ask him after he had only just woken up, but in the end her curiosity won out.

"Did you kill her, Varen?" She asked tentatively.

His relief disappeared, replaced by a dejected grimace, "No, I spared her. As much as I wanted to unleash all of my pent up anger, I knew I could never kill her, not after how I had changed over the course of our little adventure," He looked at her studiously, and seemed to think for a moment before finally continuing, "And something else stopped me."

She arched a silver eyebrow. She would be lying if she said she wasn't interested, "What was it?"

He stared at her, and it was disconcerting how intensely his eyes were focused on her, "It was your voice, Handmaiden. I heard your voice and it told me to spare you. That was the final thing that stopped me from striking her down."

Brianna's eyes shifted to the ground, "I don't remember anything."

"Your subconscious probably reached out to me through our bond," Varen reasoned out.

The former Handmaiden's eyes shifted back to his neck, "Did Atris do all of this to you? Or was it the Sith Lord HK told me about?"

The Exile smiled wider, "Atris didn't do much to me except give my spine a bit of a bruising. As for the rest of this, including the stuff on my neck, that was Nihilus."

"What did he do to you? And how did he do that to your neck?"

"He tried to feed on me," Varen explained with a strange tone of cheeriness, "It didn't work, but that didn't stop him from holding me up by the throat and trying to strangle the force out of me. Luckily, Mandalore was there to bear tackle him for me. After that he still got a few good force waves on me, but we won out in the end," He suddenly stopped and rubbed his throat, "It really hurts to talk though."

"Will this be the one time you actually stop talking?" She remarked amusedly.

"Never," He rasped back, before bursting out into a fit of dry coughs, "Frack it!"

"You've still got a potty mouth after being nearly throttled to death?" Atton asked. He leaned up lankily against the doorframe before finally noticing her, "Oh and I'm happy to see you alive too, sister."

She nodded. Underneath all of his laxness, his remark sounded surprisingly genuine, "Thank you."

"Do you guys actually tolerate each other now?" He croaked with about as much happiness as he could fit into his weak voice, "The force truly does love us."

"Yeah, yeah," The former Scoundrel dismissed, brushing off Varen's comment like it were only dust on his shoulder, "We're en route to Malachor V right now like you told me before you completely passed out on the garage floor, but we won't get there for another day."

"I'm so excited."

"I can tell," Atton drawled, "Mira managed to scrounge together some breakfast for everybody so if you can actually eat anything without falling unconscious from the pain, feel free to stumble out of bed."

He left, and Brianna distinctly heard a discontent moan originating underneath Varen's blanket. He grinned sheepishly and clutched at his blanket, "That actually sounds like a good idea as long as I shove the food into a blender first."

"I don't think that would taste very good, Varen."

He threw off the blanket and staggered to where his tattered, desert robe hung on a hook. Brianna stared at his back and traced his countless wounds with her eyes. Varen looked back over his shoulder and smiled gently, "You coming?"

She felt her blush returning as his rejuvenated eyes danced in the medical bay light. "Soon," She replied, "I'll be out when my legs feel up for it."

He nodded, "Alright."

He made to leave, but she felt like there was so much she needed to say before their private moment ended and they returned back to their journey to end the sith threat once and for all. It felt like here, in this medical bay, was the last chance she would ever have to talk to the man she had come to know as a friend, and perhaps more if she were given the time. The words clogged in her throat, piling up and up as she tried to say everything at once. Every thought, every emotion and every sensation struck her all at once. Everything she had never admitted to him or told him, now begged to be said. After a millisecond of struggle that seemed to stretch on for hours, a single word escaped from her lips.

"Brianna."

He paused and turned back around, his unshaven face clearly puzzled, "What?"

"Brianna," She repeated, and she said it with more confidence than she had ever felt in a long time, "It is my name. My true name. I have never shared it with anyone except my sisters and Atris, but I felt you deserved to know it after all we have been through. After everything you have taught me, and the trust I have placed in you, you deserve to know it."

He stared at her, face blank. Then, just as she was afraid she had managed to scare him away, he smiled the biggest smile she had ever seen on anybody. Then before she could even register movement, he was hugging her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders softly, conscious of her wounds, and squeezed her lightly. The former Handmaiden couldn't think of what to do, so she simply tried her best to hide the blazing red heat beginning to form in her cheeks.

"Thank you, Brianna," He whispered. He laughed a little, "It's so great finally knowing your name."

"You're welcome. It feels good to finally have told somebody I trust my name. I am grateful that now, there will be somebody besides Atris and my sisters who know my true name."

After what may have been an eternity, Varen withdrew his hug, and Brianna couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. He looked at her, fidgeting with the seams of his robes, and she was pleased to see that his cheeks were as flaming red as Mira's hair.

"Thank you," He said, and winked at her, "I'll save you some food in case Atton tries to steal it all."

She smiled, and it felt odd, because she seldom did so, but it also felt refreshing to feel legitimate happiness again. Despite the fact they were chasing a Sith Lord to a dead planet where they might surely all perish, she could honestly say that as long as Varen was leading them, she wouldn't hesitate to follow.

"I look forward to it."