Moving slowly so as not to wake the others, Bastila tiptoed to the cabin door and pressed a flat switch on the wall. The door unlocked and slid open with a hiss. As she stepped out of the cabin, the young Jedi ventured a look over her shoulder and breathed a silent thanks to the Force that Juhani and Mission had not been unduly roused from their slumber. Would T3 be able to do anything about the doors on the Ebon Hawk? The hissing noises they made were most irritating. She would speak to the droid later. Allowing herself a moment's pause on her way to the pantry, Bastila indulged in a most unladylike stretch and yawn - and then quickly reassumed her customary primness, on the off chance that one of the crew might actually be awake and about the ship.
Rubbing her eyes, she stepped into the pantry and stopped short. The pantry's lone occupant raised his head, looked at her and nodded a greeting.
"Morning, Princess," the amnesiac former Sith Lord murmured, before resuming his former posture - slouched over the table, head resting on his arms.
A delicately arched eyebrow went up on Bastila's face. "Didn't sleep well?"
"Couldn't."
Reaching down a good-sized muja fruit, Bastila seated herself across from the Jedi and commenced peeling it. "Let me guess. Carth and Canderous - they snore too loudly?"
"Not that."
"Pillow too hard?"
A shake of the head.
Having peeled the muja fruit, Bastila proceeded to quarter it. "Too soft, then?"
"No."
She put down the fruit knife and frowned. Strange. Usually Revan's chock-full of ridiculous things to say. Now he's nearly monosyllabic. Forgetting about the quartered fruit, Bastila wiped her hands on a clean rag and leaned over the table a little. "Hey... you.. you're clearly upset about something - do you... want to talk... about it?"
The Jedi lifted his head and frowned. There were circles around his eyes, which were showing pink around their rims. "I... maybe. It doesn't make sense to me."
"What doesn't make sense?"
Wearily, the Jedi sat up and made as if to run a hand through his hair, before changing his mind and slouching, his hands worrying at his forehead.
"Me. I don't make sense to me at all. I... my life, it's like... I don't know. How do I put it? There are a whole bunch of things for which I ought to have explanations - but I don't. There are things I know I ought to remember, because the end-product is there, but ... I don't remember how they got there - if that makes any kind of sense at all?" He let out a sigh. "And it really does bother me. Because - I don't know, I may be mentally damaged or something, after all - the Endar Spire did take a huge beating, maybe this is what the medics used to call post-traumatic stress disorder or whatever, or maybe this is a sort of amnesia brought about by concussion or lack of oxygen or something... we crashed in a pod on Taris, remember? ... it's all so frustrating, so disorienting."
Oh. Oh, no. Very bad. Memories. Crap - I hope he's not remembering stuff he shouldn't be - Bastila chewed her lip anxiously as she tried to double-guess Revan, without giving herself away.
"What do you mean?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Jedi shut his eyes and spoke slowly.
"Flying this ship, for example. I know which controls are for what, and even how a hyperdrive works - I even have a pilot's licence - but for the life of me, I can't remember ever having taken a single piloting class. That's example number one. Number two - Carth asked me a few questions about my family recently. Off the top of my head, I told him some stuff, but - but when I started trying to recall the specifics, I drew a complete blank. I barely remember what my parents looked like, or the things I did as I was growing up - and I don't remember who my primary caregiver was. It's weird."
Suddenly his eyes flew open. "My goodness. Bastila...! I'm not going to turn into a cabbage, am I!"
The wave of anxiety travelling through their Force bond was nearly palpable. Bastila winced in spite of herself. "Do you mean... you absolutely cannot remember anything from your childhood?"
The Jedi shook his head. "I'm not utterly devoid of such memories. It's the specifics, the details, that I can't remember. I told you I came from Deralia, right? When Carth asked me to describe Deralia, I could. Sort of. But it felt as if I were describing a holo I had seen - not an actual place, if you get my meaning. That got me thinking... about what my family home was like, whether it was in the city, or... the outskirts... and I found I couldn't remember. Then I started going 'chapter by chapter', as people say. I knew I went to school as a child - but I couldn't remember where. Or how I did in school. I remember having had many classmates, and being bullied... but no names. I remember having had a series of pet animals, as a child - but what species? A complete blank. Princess, it worries me - do you think Master Vandar would be able to... to diagnose me? I must have taken a larger bump on the head when we crashed than I thought..! And I don't want to turn into a cabbage...!"
So the Council had given Revan some created memories, but not ones that would stand up to very close scrutiny, thought Bastila. Perhaps... perhaps if we had had the luxury of time, a more thorough job could have been done. But there hadn't been that luxury, and the memories that Revan carried now had been stitched together at very short notice by a group of Jedi Masters whose talents lay more in the arena of lightsabering and Force powers than in imagination.
Suddenly, Bastila felt very, very sorry for the amnesiac former Sith Lord who was now a fellow Jedi and... sort-of friend. Her expression softened, and she gingerly reached across to touch his arm.
"You're not going to turn into a cabbage, silly. I... I think it's probably recent events... there's just been so muc, you know? Finding out you could touch the Force? Training as a Jedi? And now... all this travel, and, you know - that crash on Taris - Carth said you were quite badly bruised when he pulled you out, it could be concussion... but I wouldn't worry about it. You make far too much sense to be going... cabbage-y. And you're too intelligent to be a cabbage." She smiled tentatively. That was about as much comfort as she could offer him without compromising the secret she had been sworn to keep.
A barely audible sigh escaped the Jedi's lips. The Princess had a point. It had been a very hectic two months since the storming of the Endar Spire, and there were still times he found himself wondering if all that had happened - the crash, discovering his latent Force affinity, training at the Enclave on Dantooine, falling for Bastila - was nothing more than a dream from which he would soon awake. It was a lot to take in, for anyone. Much less an ordinary Republic soldier with humble origins, such as he. Maybe he was worrying too much. Perhaps all that was needed was time - time to get used to his new situation, and for the effects of crash-landing on Taris to pass. The Jedi sat up and found himself looking into Bastila's concerned eyes. He gazed earnestly into them.
"Thank you for listening, Princess." He placed his hand over hers before she could withdraw it, and gave a gentle squeeze. "It means a lot to me."
Bastila's cheeks burned bright red.
"How long more until we're within the Wookiee system?" chirped Mission, her lekku twitching excitedly. She'd never been off Taris before - that she could remember - and now here she was, going places! What was this planet called again? Kashyyyk, yeah. Crazy Wooks. What was with all the crazy consonants, huh? Oh, and double vowels too. 'Zaalbar' - what a crazy name. She thought she'd heard him mumble a few more names before - when she'd gone into the cargo hold to look for parts and found him napping. 'Freyyr', and 'Roorwoor' or something like that. Like, hello? Simplify things, people? Poor kidlets have to learn to spell, yeah? I mean, Twi'lek-style names are so much more user-friendly! Mission's lekku twitched in a self-satisfied manner.
"Just over two standard hours, lil' punk," boomed Canderous. He had his feet up on the console display unit and was scratching at the stubble covering his chin and throat. His hand strayed to his hair, which had patches in it where large chunks had been cut out without regard to the overall presentation. An unreadable expression flashed briefly across his face.
"Two hours! Oh, man - I'm going to go nuts - there isn't anything to do on this thing..!"
Canderous grunted. "You want something to do? I'll give you something to do. I need a shave, and that's what I'm gonna get now. So you stay here and watch the controls. Easy as pie 'cos we're on auto. Just make sure you don't fiddle with any buttons and gimme a shout when we're exiting hyperspace." He stood, and brushed his jacket. A shower of crumbs and a muja core fell to the cockpit floor. The Twi'lek girl made an expression of disgust.
"Oh, and clean up the mess before the Jedi Princess sees it. You might want to give the display screen a wipe, too." Smirking, Canderous sauntered out of the cockpit, taking care to squish the muja core in the process. Mission glared at his retreating back and flipped him the birdie.
There would be payback. She would see to that.
The Jedi leaned back against the wall in the medbay, resting. A soggy pile of kolto-soaked bandages on the floor were the only visible reminders of the day's run-ins with the local fauna. Kashyyyk was, in the Jedi's opinion, about as full of malicious wildlife as any planet could get without becoming unfit for habitation. And Dantooine thought it had a problem with kinrath and kath hounds? They hadn't seen the forest kinrath here. Or the strange, flying things that had come swooping down - claws bared, jaws snapping at every turn. He looked at his left hand and felt along the curve of his left shoulder. The kolto had done its work: healthy, intact skin replaced the bleeding wounds caused by fangs and claws, with only thin white lines showing where the gashes once had been.
He felt, more than heard, her approach and looked up just as the medbay door slid open.
"You should have taken me with you."
"I missed you too, Princess," said the Jedi. In the doorway, Bastila tsk-ed and rolled her eyes. The medbay door slid shut noiselessly behind her as she entered. The Jedi's eyebrows went up. "Did you hear that?"
"I heard nothing."
"Exactly! The door. It's gone all quiet now."
Bastila looked over her shoulder as she bent to pick up the pile of used bandages. "Oh, the door. I spoke to the little T3 unit. Asked if he could perhaps improve them. Clearly the droid takes instruction well." She dangled the dripping mess of bandages inches from the Jedi's face. "This is what happens when I don't go out with you."
The Jedi looked straight past the bandages into Bastila's eyes. "Princess, it would be an honour to go out with you."
Disbelief, embarrassment and annoyance passed in quick succession across Bastila's face. "You know that's not what I meant! Next time you decide to go gallivanting, I'm coming along." She gave the bandages a little shake to emphasise her point, before tossing them in the incinerator. Behind her, the Jedi flexed his arms and stretched. Satisfied that his gashes had healed sufficiently to allow unrestricted movement, he settled into a more comfortable position to watch Bastila busying herself with tidying up his mess. He concluded that the rear view of Bastila was as pleasant as the front.
"How's Mission?"
"What did you expect? Juhani and I had to sedate her - next time, please think twice about taking her along with you, especially if it involves Wookiee family politics," said Bastila curtly.
"I did! I tried to convince her to come back here, but she wouldn't have any of it - just ask Zaal - bugger."
Bastila turned to face the Jedi, her arms crossed. "Well, you could have marched her right back! She's fourteen! You're a trained Jedi! How much of a fight could she possibly put up?"
"Oh, Princess...! Your words hurt me." Placing a hand over his heart, the Jedi adopted a pained expression and continued, "What do you think I am - some kind of Dark... Jedi... Sith Lord?"
His mouth was moving and words were pouring out, but Bastila did not hear any of them. A Dark Jedi. A Sith Lord. He had spoken in jest, and come so close to the truth. She closed her eyes and fought down the bitter taste of bile that had worked its way up from her gut, fought for the mastery over her emotions, and gained the upper hand - but not soon enough. Revan's hands were cupping her face now, and she dimly heard him calling her name. Her eyes fluttered open.
"I am so sorry, Bastila..! Bad joke. Not funny. No more bad Sith jokes." The Jedi peered searchingly at Bastila's upturned face. She tried not to meet his gaze.
"It's... nothing. I - I - you, you... just don't know... what the Dark Side is - what it does to people." Actually, that's only half true, thought Bastila. You above all Jedi should know what it is to fall. You walked the dark paths, chose the dark ways, Revan. Inside of you, the knowledge slumbers, imprisoned - for the time. But what if one day it should wake? What if one day you should rediscover yourself? Will you betray us all again?
"I promise I won't joke about the Sith anymore, Bastila. Not if it upsets you so. I know you think I don't take the threat seriously - but in fact, I do. And it frightens me as much as it does you - or any of the Masters... I guess laughing at it is... well, it's just my way of... of not letting it intimidate me." His hands slipped to her shoulders. "You shouldn't let it, either."
He's right, chided a small voice in Bastila's head. Fear is a path to the Dark Side as much as active dabbling in the forbidden Sith lore is. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate - hate leads to suffering. You know that. She nodded mutely in reply.
For a moment, the Jedi thought of taking Bastila into his arms and giving her a hug, but the more diplomatic nodes of his brain disagreed and pointed out that hugging the Princess under present circumstances would be a course of action doomed to culminate in a high-velocity meeting between her knee and his groin. Ow. Not good. He compromised, and gently rested his forehead on hers for a second. Then he summoned his tunic and started putting it on.
"I... I think I'd better... go... now," said Bastila awkwardly, backing towards the medbay door. She could feel her ears turning red - they had been so close! Too close. And there had been... prolonged contact, his hands had been on her face, and he had been only half dressed and - this was weird. It hadn't felt like a violation of her personal space. Oh, no.
The Jedi watched Bastila's uncharacteristically crablike movements with a dawning sense of understanding. He didn't think he was reading too much into them, especially as she was only inches away from the door and was still looking in his direction. Plus, her hand was on the correct switch - but she hadn't activated it.
He cocked his head to the side and smiled disarmingly. "Princess?"
Bastila's eyes widened. "What?"
"Would you like to go out with me tomorrow?"
Her brain, Bastila would later swear, had it in for her. It always chose the worst possible moments to spark out or short-circuit. Nothing else would account for the utterly shameless - no, senseless - reply that she made.
"Yes - um, where?" Duh.
"The Shadowlands - nice and dark and romantic. Just the two of us. HK-47 will act as your chaperone, so don't worry." The Jedi grinned.
Deciding that she had best get out of the medbay before she disgraced herself entirely, Bastila mumbled a barely-audible reply and fled in a swirl of brown tabards.
He couldn't resist calling out after her. "It's our first date, so don't forget...!"
"What the grife were you thinking, mate?"
"I'm with the Republico on this - I thought we were clear, Jedi - no more stragglers!"
The Jedi looked up from studying the rough map of the Shadowlands before him. "Have you seen this map? No? Well, I suggest you look. This place" - he jabbed a finger at the map - "is a veritable maze. Hardly any sunlight filters down, so it's perpetually dim. Remember that rancor on Taris, Carth? My contact tells me that there's stuff down there that's worse than rancors by far. And, by the way, there's a bunch of Czerka slavers and what-have-yous mucking about in the Shadowlands too. Chances are that they've mined half the regular footpaths by now. So if someone who knows the good roads, the safe ones, is willing to do me a favour in exchange for transportation..." The Jedi trailed off.
Carth fidgeted with the ammunition clips at his belt. "All right, all right - you have a point. I - just promise me we're not going to travel around the galaxy picking up one sentient after another."
"He'd better be able to hold his own in a firefight," grumbled Canderous. "We already got one Republico on board - we don't need another deadweight." Fighting words those might be - but, the Jedi noted, they lacked any real enthusiasm or conviction. Keep it up, Carth. Old Mando blockhead here is starting to tire of niggling you.
Carth cleared his throat. "So - ah. You... gonna tell us who the kriff this chap is? Your... contact?"
"He's a Jedi. Was, rather," said Bastila bluntly. She stopped fiddling with her lightsaber and put it down on the workbench. "Bindo's lived in the Shadowlands a good long while. Mind you, he didn't 'go Dark' like the rest - though that hardly means he's a paragon of virtue."
Canderous and Carth exchanged glances. "Meaning what - he drinks? Snorts spice? Tells dirty jokes involving Jedi Masters and Apprentices?" The Republic officer sniggered at the Mandalorian's coarse sense of humour. Bastila did her best to look affronted.
"Nah. I think the Princess has... other stuff... in mind." Carth winked at his former colleague. "Let's see. Jedi generally don't marry, do they? So... I'm guessing here. This one did?"
Over at the workbench, Bastila's eyes narrowed. "This is no laughing matter! Attachments are dangerous to Jedi!"
"Ooh," drawled Canderous. "Touched a nerve there, flyboy. So this one married. And he's not a 'paragon of virtue' - who the kark taught you to talk like that! - so... you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Republico?"
"I can't believe you're actually upset that a Jedi had se-"
"Leave her alone, guys," cut in the Jedi. "It's not what you think."
"Whatever." Barely restraining his mirth, Canderous elbowed Carth out of the way as he made for the starboard 'fresher. Carth followed him out, but not before jiggling his eyebrows in Bastila's general direction and giving his former colleague a knowing wink.
"Attachment is dangerous," repeated Bastila, as soon as Carth had gone. "It clouds perception. Makes good people make bad decisions. We - we're Jedi. We can't have attachments." The words sounded hollow, even to her. She half wondered whether she even knew what she was talking about.
"I don't think that conclusion necessarily follows, actually." Choosing his words carefully, the Jedi continued. "It's like... Master Kavar and his clothes, for example."
Bastila wrinkled her nose. This was a very odd analogy. She wasn't sure where Revan was going with this.
"Have you noticed how many layers of clothes the man wears? Clearly he loves his clothes. Has some sort of... attachment to them, arguably..."
"He has rheumatism, for crying out loud...!"
"Doesn't change anything. He loves his clothes, he needs them - to some degree - but what if he were forced to choose between going Dark and keeping his clothes on, or staying in the Light and being a nudist - what if he chose his clothes over principles? What would that leave him with?"
A mental image of a half-naked Master Kavar floated up unbidden in Bastila's mind. Gross. She quickly blocked it out. "Not very much... nothing, really. Nothing that matters."
The Jedi moved over to stand in front of Bastila. "Precisely. That's what attachment is, isn't it? It's not loving somebody. It's not marrying somebody. It's not having kids. It's allowing your interests - whatever they are - to take over to the extent where, if something happens and you have to make a moral choice, you let those interests determine your decisions... until there's nothing left of you. That is the issue here. Not whether or not said attachments ought to exist."
Silence.
"You... really... gave this a lot of thought, didn't you?" queried Bastila softly, her eyes fixed on the toe of her boot.
"I did."
"Why?" She regretted the question immediately, because she knew what the answer would be.
"Because I am a Jedi who happens to think you are lovely. And because I want to buy you flowers, and embarrass myself writing terrible poetry for you. Because I would very much like to go out with you."
"You believe love cannot lead to the Dark Side."
"Love in its purest is the very antithesis of the Dark Side, Bastila. How could it lead one astray?"
The words were simple, but they carried the force of a truth that frightened her.