CROSS SEASON
She saw the details of the other woman's features in the mirrored armour of the Sith Troopers as they filed swiftly past her, their heavy boots pounding the deck of the colossal Rakatan Star Forge. In the curve and joins of the armour she saw Revan, her dark hair and cloak billowing in the artificial atmosphere created within the Forge, her arms folded across her chest and her face focused in tight concentration on the star-lines before her.
In the stature and armour of every faceless soldier she saw not only the reflection of Revan's physical beauty but also the shape and contours of her philosophy; a binding and unifying belief that went beyond the teachings of Jedi Enclave on Dantooine and beyond the rotten sum of knowledge buried beneath Korriban. Though they sailed beneath the unfurled banner of the Sith Empire, there was little doubt in her mind that the philosophy Revan had been developing was something more than the sum of either of its parents.
It would be hundreds of years before the teachings of Potentium were formulated, years in which the names of both women would fade into obscurity.
Bastila Shan pulled her own dark cloak tighter around her shoulders, determined to ward off the chill she felt whenever travelling through hyperspace.
Ahead of her, she saw the older woman turn, her expression one of determination and resignation. She smiled sadly and Bastila inclined her head in return. When first she had 'fallen', she had felt that the rage and hate would consume everything, leaving her as a broken, howling woman driven to the very edge of her sanity.
This final catastrophe had failed to occur, however, and instead, with the grace and persuasion of the most tender of lovers, Revan had acquiesced and together they had turned upon both the non-committal former Jedi, Jolee Bindo and the failed adept, Juhani, striking them down for their incongruity.
It was as her twin-bladed sabre had torn through Juhani, slicing the sickly Cathar in two that she had realised that the rage and hate had fallen silent. She was at peace, perhaps more so than at any other point in her life and the actions that had caused her hand to move and her blade to ignite were not those of evil but rather those of necessity.
There was no time to waste on dissidents, all others were either with them...or they were against them.
The death of the Twi'lek child Mission had been slightly more problematic. Watching as her Wookie companion had wrapped his vast paws about her neck and slowly proceeded to choke the life from his young ward, tears streaming down his face and staining his fur, was a distasteful moment, one that Revan had turned away from.
Understanding the nature of sorrow, Bastila had watched until the Twi'lek child's body had become limp and useless, limbs hanging loosely like those of a rag doll. She regretted the death and the nature of it. Mission Vao was, in her own way, a soldier, a pawn in the vast struggle to restore order to the galaxy and Bastila had sworn she would never allow another soldier serving with them to face such a hollow death.
Each death would be cherished, glorified and, like Mission's death, each one would be another step towards order.
She bent down and placed her lips against the cold blue of the Twi'lek's, ignoring Revan's quiet resolve and the Wookie's howls of regret.
As she rose up from the body on the sands, she had been born again, taking on the rank of Generalissimo and all the trappings of military service.
With the expertise of her Battle Meditation she had restructured the legions of Sith Troopers, creating a single machine capable of both compassion and most of all, of change.
From the very best of her soldiers she had formed a legion of white-armoured warriors, her proud and loyal 501st division. With Revan at her side, and the 501st before her, Generalissimo Bastila Shan had changed the politics of war.
Gracefully Revan stepped away from the transparisteel viewing port, her smooth features illuminated by the speeding trails of light from behind her and the flashing warnings signalling their imminent arrival above Coruscant.
"Are you upset?" The older woman asked carefully.
Bastila smiled and shook her head.
"I was just considering everything that has led us this point." She answered truthfully.
"You have doubts?" The one time Sith Lord questioned.
Bastila reached out and took hold of the other woman's hand, squeezing it lightly. It was a small gesture of camaraderie, of affection, of the promise of passion; something so small that it had threatened an entire order and laid the seeds for the expansion of a future empire.
"If this is darkness, it doesn't feel like I expected it." She murmured.
Revan glanced out across the paling light of hyperspace, her hand still cupped in Bastila's.
"It's only darkness if you're scared of what you might find." The older woman answered in a soft whisper.
"And what did you find?" Bastila questioned, her tone erring just short of confrontational.
Revan shrugged.
"Loneliness," she paused, her all honest, dark eyes settling on the face of the younger woman. "A lack of you"
Bastila's expression softened.
"Is this really what you wanted?" She questioned. "There's still time before we reach Coruscant. You could turn back if you wanted, disappear into the Unknown Regions and live a life of study."
"I'm not ready to disappear from the universe just yet." The other remarked, her lips curling in a wry smile. "First I want to make people understand what we saw on Rakata Prime, I want them to know what the Dark Side is and I want them to know that they don't have to be scared of it. If the Force can't abide evil then there would be no Dark Side"
Bastila squeezed her hand in reassurance.
"You're preaching to the converted." She whispered with a smile.
Revan paused, a look of confusion momentarily crossing her face.
"Sorry." She murmured. "Sometimes I forget. It's like I'm living two different lives at once; who I was before my memory was altered and who I am now."
Bastila felt a pang of guilt, the unresolved emotion seeping out from her centre and permeating the Force.
"Don't fret." Revan remarked. "What does not kill us, makes us stronger, I believe the saying goes. I'm glad to have had the chance to live two lives. I don't think I could have achieved all this," she gestured with a hand at the vastness of the Star Forge. "With only my previous experiences to drive it on. Being who I am now, I understand the reasons for my previous failure"
The older woman paused and looked out at the star-lines.
"It's almost as if the Jedi Council wanted me to achieve this. Why else would they have otherwise have given me such free reign to pursue such interests?"
"Perhaps they were simply overconfident in their abilities. You should be carefully about reading too much into the situation."
Revan shrugged and turned to her once more.
"The truth is inconsequential. All that matters is how it feels. The Jedi have been mouthing philosophies of sacrifice for so long that I believe they were secretly willing extinction. Like a wounded animal crawling home to die, the Order awaits release.
"I believe that the Enclave on Dantooine made people like you and me, and even poor, dear Juhani, to give them such release. Faith creates relics of sanctity, not the other way around. Never doubt that we are those relics, Bastila; we are the icons and dogma, the signs and wonders, of the Jedi Order, our arms outstretched in welcoming compassion and destruction."
Bastila looked at the assembled Sith Troopers, now assuming their positions around the blast doors and beyond. She knew, if not from routine then from the philosophy they followed, where each man would be on the craft. She knew the hangars, in which the ground troops ran through final equipment checks before boarding their transports and the pilots installed their decidedly anachronistic astromech droids into Rakatan star-fighters, she knew the positions they would have assumed on the bridge, guarding the Forge's officer crew and providing data-feeds to the troops below.
She knew where each one was stationed on each level of the Forge's colossal design. She knew because she had put them there.
"And what of these people who fight for you. Are they instruments also?"
Revan smiled at the younger woman's deliberate attempts to test her.
"More so than either of us." The once Sith Lord remarked, turning as she snatched her own mirrored helmet from an equipment locker.
Bastila's eyes moved from the helmet to the smooth skin of Revan's face and in that instant she understood what the other intended to do. In the forthcoming battle, Revan would not be safe within the hallowed halls of the Star Forge but rather, dressed in the armour of a Sith Trooper, she would be fighting on the planet's surface.
Her heart swelled with both pride and adoration. Gently she reached forwards, her eyes closing as she placed her lips on those of the other woman's. She felt arms wrap around her, drawing her closer and, without resistance, she allowed herself to sink beneath the waves of emotion that radiated from the other.
In the future there would be bloodshed and loss but for now, in this moment - in this embrace - the future was an undefined beast, its only trait that of the philosophy that would shape.
With ease, Generalissimo Bastila Shan allowed herself to sink further into the wondrous aura that surrounded the other woman.