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Chapter 2: Zelka Forn

She was in KotOR. A video game. She was in a Star Wars video game. Her dad was dead. She'd watched him die, watched a freaking Sith Lord kill him. That wasn't possible. It obviously couldn't happen. Except it had. The Sith had touched her, she'd felt him, she knew he was real. But dreams felt real. So she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. It was very, very possible that she was dreaming. Wasn't it?

I'm not insane. She felt insane, though. Something in her head was... different. Very, very different. It was almost like she'd been blind her entire life, but as soon as they appeared in the game, she could see. Even when her eyes were closed, she could feel that the others were still there.

She had felt it when the Sith died. One second he was there, and the next he wasn't. She could see his body, but he was gone. His body was empty—she couldn't feel it, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her dad was dead because of the Sith. He had killed her dad. But now he was just gone, and it left her feeling empty too. At least she hadn't had to feel her father disappear, hadn't had to feel him vanish like that.

But he was still gone. No longer on this earth. Or rather, not on that earth. She wasn't on Earth anymore either. Unless she was just dreaming. But she'd never had a dream like this. It felt so real, and she felt so strange. But it couldn't be real. She couldn't actually be in a video game. She couldn't have met Carth Onasi. Carth Onasi wasn't real. But she could feel him. Paranoia and fear and anger and concern and worry and other things she couldn't quite name were pouring off him in waves. It amazed her that he could feel all that and still function. She couldn't. She wasn't. But she also had her own emotions to deal with. And those of the two Revans.

Oh God, the Revans.

There were two Revans. Two of them. Male and female. Canon and non-canon. Uninjured and injured. Non-canon and canon. She could feel them both. He was calm and focused, even when he was fighting for his life. Fem-Revan was faint, but even unconscious she flickered from one emotion to another even faster than Carth. Smugness. Euphoria. Pain. Fear. Hatred. Anger. Confusion. Always changing, never constant. Feeling her was like staring at a strobe light.

And then there was Jarik. He was different. She could feel his presence, could tell he was there, but that was it. It was like there was a slippery wall around him, gently diverting her to one of the others when she switched her attention to him. She wished they would all put up walls like that. Maybe then her head would stop hurting.

But, in a way, they did all have walls. They were different from Jarik's—his was on his end somehow, concealing himself. The others' walls seemed more like she was just losing sight of the person. If she tried to focus on any of them, to feel them exclusively, that one would fade. Slip away. It was like she could see, but only with her peripheral vision—if she turned so she was facing something directly, it disappeared.

And there were two Revans. Two. If something that basic, that integral to the game was wrong, what else was off? They were on Taris now, what if the bombing started early? I don't want to die. And if the Revans died, Malak would win. That couldn't happen. The good guys had to win. She had to tell them... but they'd think she was insane. It was possible. She could be insane.

No. I'm not insane. I'm not insane. She realized dimly that she was rocking back and forth, could feel their concern for her radiating off them, even as Jarik and male Revan started to fade.

I'm not insane. I'm not insane. I'm not insane, I'm not...

Carth watched Gwyn as her rocking increased in speed and she began to cry quietly. The sight pulled at his heart like not much could anymore. He quietly crossed the room and sat down next to her on the cot, draping an arm around her shoulders. She froze for a moment, then turned into his chest. Wrapping an arm around his neck, she cried into his shoulder while he held her, his mind drifting far away as he thought about people who were long since dead.

Finding someone who knew Zelka Forn was laughably easy. The janitor gave them directions before they even left the apartment complex. The man had been more worried about the cleanliness of his floors than their questions, but they'd eventually gotten the answers they needed out of him. Now they were out on the street, making their way to the doctor's office.

The streets were almost empty. A few people hurried along, carefully avoiding contact with each other. Sith troopers stalked back and forth in gold-plated armor, clearly trying to look intimidating. They failed miserably, but that wasn't completely their fault. If someone gave them some decent training, they might actually be dangerous.

"I'm Jarik Thorne, by the way," the boy said, interrupting his companion's thoughts. "I just realized, I didn't introduce myself earlier."

"They call me the Harbinger."

The boy snorted. "Really? The Harbinger of what?"

"Depends on who's paying." The Harbinger kept his gaze carefully neutral as another Sith walked by. His hand unconsciously fell to the hilt of his vibroblade, and he picked his next words carefully. "Given who that is right now, I'm the champion of truth, justice, and the light side."

The boy laughed. "You're not a soldier then." It wasn't a question, so the Harbinger didn't respond. "Is that why Carth doesn't like you? Because he knows your loyalty is questionable?"

The Harbinger snorted. Kid's got guts, I'll give him that. "Could be," he said. "But he doesn't have anything to worry about."

Jarik raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No. I've been paid for the next two months." Jarik looked a bit disbelieving, and the Harbinger continued. "I've been paid for the next two months. It's bad for business to betray an employer. Word gets around, and no one else wants to hire. For now, I'm as loyal as he is."

"And after that?"

The Harbinger shrugged. "After that, anything's possible."

They continued on in silence for a moment. Then Jarik said, "I know this is a weird question, but... well, what year is it?"

Chuckling, the Harbinger said, "Don't worry, kid. I've heard weirder. It's 444."

The boy nodded slowly, his face unreadable. The Harbinger watched him, unable to keep an incredulous grin off his face.

"Come on, you can't ask a question like that and not tell the story behind it. Out with it."

Jarik looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Uh, well... you see, there was this... thing, that happened, and... uh..."

"Yes?" The Harbinger's grin was fading. If he's just as nuts as the girl...

"Oh look, here we are." Jarik practically ran into the doctor's office. The Harbinger followed with a ghost of a smile at the timing of their arrival. But I will get an answer.

A young man was standing by the door, openly staring at them. The Harbinger glared back and he looked away quickly. Snorting, the Harbinger turned to the only other person in the surprisingly small room. The bald human male, who was obviously starting to get on in years, had already greeted Jarik.

"I see from your appearances that you're off-worlders. Still, you're welcome here. I'll not have it said that Zelka Forn refused to help somebody just because they weren't a citizen of Taris."

"You're Zelka Forn, then?" Jarik asked, at the same time as the Harbinger said, "How can you tell we're from off-world?"

Forn chuckled. "Yes, I'm Zelka. And most citizens don't walk around armed and armored."

The Harbinger shrugged. Blending in would be an advantage, but being ready for anything was more important.

"Is this some kind of hospital, or what?" Jarik asked.

"It is. My resources have been quite limited since the Sith quarantined the planet, but—"

Jarik interrupted. "Wait. The planet's under quarantine?"

He didn't know that? the Harbinger thought. Forn was surprised as well, and began explaining to the boy. The Harbinger half-listened as he circled the room slowly. For a hospital, it was tiny—just one small room with a few cots along a wall and a table covered with medical supplies in the middle of the room.

As the Harbinger approached what he'd thought was the side wall, he realized it was a sliding door. Forn was standing right there, but he had a gnawing feeling that he needed to see whatever was on the other side. And the girl had said that he could be trusted, though he wasn't sure how much stock he put in anything she said.

Vi needs his help—breaking into part of his office isn't going to incline him to do us any favors, his brain told him. His instincts, on the other hand, were telling him to open the damn thing. After moment of hesitation, the Harbinger slipped a computer spike out of his belt and into the door's terminal. It was a weak lock, and the door slid open in a matter of seconds.

The room beyond was easily as large as the entry room. Bacta tanks lined the walls, but only the two tanks farthest from the door were occupied.

"What are you doing? Don't go in there! That door is for employees only!" Forn exclaimed, racing over to the terminal. He began pushing buttons, but the Harbinger stepped into the room before the doctor could close it off.

"I recognize these men," he growled, turning back to face the doctor. "They're Republic soldiers. What do you want with them?" His hand dropped to the hilt of his vibroblade.

"You... you recognize them? But how? Unless..." Forn looked at him hopefully. "Unless you're friends of the Republic?"

"We are," Jarik said, stepping into the room. "My friend here is a Republic soldier. Or something like that."

"Now. Tell us what's going on here." The Harbinger's voice cracked like a whip, and Forn flinched.

"I... I can explain all this, don't worry. I'm trying to help. Really." Forn looked from Jarik to the Harbinger, and apparently decided Jarik looked less threatening, because he explained to the boy. "After the space battle overhead, people started secretly bringing these Republic soldiers who'd crash landed to me. I had to take them in."

"After the battle?" Jarik asked. The Harbinger could practically see gears turning in the boy's head. He didn't know about the battle either? It should've been visible from the planet. Where is this kid from?

"That's right," the doctor said. "Their injuries are terrible, most won't survive. But at least they're hidden from the Sith."

"For that, you have my thanks," the Harbinger said, removing his hand from his weapon's hilt. "Force knows what would've happened if the Sith found them."

Zelka nodded, obviously relieved that they agreed with what he'd done. "It's the least I could do."

"And we appreciate it," Jarik said, putting a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "But if you want to do more, you can."

To the doctor's credit, he didn't hesitate at all. "What do you need?"

"A friend of mine, another soldier, was hurt when we crashed here," the Harbinger said. "She's been unconscious since yesterday."

"And a friend of mine is..." Jarik trailed off. "She's, well... she might be in shock. But I think there's more to it than that."

Zelka nodded. "Where are these friends of yours?"

"We'll take you to them," the boy said, taking a step toward the door. "They're in an apartment over that way." He gestured vaguely towards the way they had come.

"Let me grab a few things I might need," Zelka said, but the Harbinger stopped him with a hand.

"We crashed without any credits," he said. "We can't pay you."

Zelka shook his head. "Pay me by surviving and not getting caught." His face darkened. "And by sticking it to those Sith bastards whenever you can."

A grin spread over the Harbinger's face as he released the doctor. "Oh, don't worry. We will."

Carth Onasi. She was crying on Carth Onasi. Or, more specifically, on Carth Onasi's jacket. She was crying on The Jacket. That couldn't be good for the leather. And this couldn't be helpful for making a good first impression.

Now that Jarik and male Revan were gone, her mind was a little less crowded. Fem-Revan—no, her name was Violet. She had to get used to that. Slipping up in front of them would be dangerous—presence wasn't as strong as the others', presumably because she was unconscious. Carth broadcasted emotions like a radio, but that was easier to tune him out now that the others were gone. And now that she was getting to cry on The Jacket.

Fan-girling over a middle-aged soldier who was destined to fall in love with a possibly former Sith Lord probably wasn't the best way to react to the situation. At this point, she didn't care. He was letting her cry without trying to make her stop, and she couldn't stop. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. Not when her head hurt like hell and she might be going insane.

She sensed them before they opened the door. Carth sat up a little straighter and she buried her face in The Jacket, trying to hide how much she'd been crying.

"You found him." Carth sounded amazed.

"Yup," said Jarik's voice. "Allow me to introduce the one and only Dr. Zelka Forn. Doc, meet Carth, Gwyn, and Violet."

The game was right. He existed. So the world wasn't totally wrong, not with the little things. Just in the big stuff that she actually cared about, like who Revan was.

She could feel a new presence—Zelka, presumably—in addition to Jarik and male Revan. Zelka felt strangely dark, certainly darker than in the game. But they weren't in the game now. Because this was real. Or she was insane. Or maybe both.

"There's some bruising, but I don't think she's concussed, and the head wound actually isn't that bad," She assumed it was Zelka talking, although she couldn't remember what his voice was supposed to—Carth and Bastila and Jolee and the other son the Ebon Hawk were the only voices she remembered. Carth's was right, so she assumed the others would be too. Unless that was part of the game that was wrong. But at least Carth's was the same. She loved Carth's voice. "I'll clean it and re-bandage it, and you should put kolto on it every so often until it scabs over. She—what did you say her name was?"

"We didn't." Carth's chest vibrated as he talked.

"I did." She recognized male Revan's voice. "It's Violet."

"Right. Violet." Zelka continued. "Well, Violet should wake up today or tomorrow. Now. What do we have here?"

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away, leaning more heavily on Carth.

"It's okay, he won't hurt you." Carth's voice was calm, reassuring. And he was right. She had told them to get Zelka, after all. But she didn't want to move away from Carth. She could feel the others, now that they were back, but his overwhelming emotions were drowning out the others somewhat. She didn't want to lose that. Not now. Not ever.

But they took the choice away from her. Someone was pulling her away from Carth, and he was helping them. She fought against them, keeping her eyes tightly shut. She already knew they were there, she didn't have to see them too. It was disorienting to see them. She knew what they truly looked like, on the inside, and the outside didn't necessarily match. No need to look.

"I see what you meant." Zelka sounded more compassionate than before. But his actions didn't match his voice because he was pulling her away from Carth and it was getting easier to feel the anger deep inside him and the total dispassion in male Revan and she was still sliding off Jarik and—

A brief pain interrupted her thoughts as something pierced her arm.

"Sleep now. You'll be fine," Zelka said.

They were fading. For one short, wonderful moment, she couldn't feel them anymore. Then everything was gone.

A/N: Sorry about the late update. The homecoming dance was last weekend, and I didn't have a chance to finish editing this. There's a pretty good chance that the next update will also be in three weeks instead of two, because of Thanksgiving. But I'll try very hard not to let that happen.

So, what do y'all think of the two Revans? Any guesses yet as to which is real, or where this is gonna go?