The Seeing of Faces
The haze of half consciousness was the only thing obscuring her beautiful face from his corroded eyes, and as Revan sank deeper into the abyss of age and senility, he found it harder and more strenuous to remember the details as he had once been able to do. He cannot recall how long he had been left in this place of darkness, as the Emperor fed upon his mind, growing his own power while Revan degraded away like a stone left in the ocean.
For decades he had waited in the dark spaces of the Force, helpless as the memories he had cherished for years was torn away and fed upon by the Emperor. The feelings of happiness or anger contained within the fibers of them being selfishly consumed without pause, and even as Revan, ever the eternal struggler, attempted to bar them from the Dark Lord's merciless grasp, he still felt his mind slipping, and empty.
Hundreds of his experiences, moments of his greatest triumphs or his greatest failures, ripped away from him, leaving his newly restored memory ragged and incomplete. Bits and pieces, crumbs left over by the feast on his mind, surfaced occasionally, a prompting finger that teased him of what he had once had, but cannot attain again. Names, places, and other experiences circulated around his vision, speaking words that resonate of familiarity but that Revan cannot remember. It seems as if the Force was attempting to remind him of something, something that gave way to hope, but the message was lost in the desolation of his surroundings, and the brightness lost.
Meetra Surik . . .
It was a name that appeared commonly in his head, and with it came a feeling of companionship and love, a love shared between bonded friends. But even those powerful feelings are lost on him now, and he can barely remember her features, or the reason for their shared love. The sense of loss would have brought tears to his eyes had he not shed them already, spilled over the feelings of violation the Emperor forced into him. A sensation of a soft, almost child-like hand, on his shoulder, radiating comfort, was of the last memories he still remembered and stored away, out of desperation if anything else.
But even as Meetra faded away, a long lost memory still barely hanging on to his psyche, there was one memory he was still able to remember in full.
Bastila Shan . . . Jedi Knight . . . Wife . . . Mother . . . Born on Talravin . . . And I fell in love with her almost instantly . . .
It was a mantra that he repeated to himself on a constant basis, trying to keep the memory of his long loved wife in his head, trying to keep the love he felt burn for her stay inflamed, just as something to remember, something to keep his strength in the face of the Emperor's evil gaze. Her face was blurred, but he could still remember the light glow that encircled her angelic face, the light crystal blue and gray of her eyes, the fullness of her cheeks, and the wonderful curve of her lips as she smiled with love and compassion. It revolved around his entire mind, his one defense against the dark brutality of the Emperor.
Revan weakly reached forward and brushed away the fog with all the strength of his will. The memories clarified for the briefest moment, and at last, after decades of trying, he finally saw her face again.