Well, new chapter's here! Again, thanks to EM for editing things and helping out with the medical stuff - couldn't do it without ya! Relationship/character progression chapter here; no action, sorry guys.

As always, read and review! Your feedback is much appreciated, and always considered.


Bastila took a shaky breath and watched the doctor leave the biosphere, blood sample in hand. Her gaze shifted back to Revan's unconscious, bleeding, dying form, and she swallowed, moving to the side of the bed he was closest to. Bastila felt weak, afraid…helpless. Despite all that, she couldn't help the wry smile that spread across her face as she realized this was the second time Revan's life had been on the brink of demise in her presence.

She'd saved him once – would she do it again?

Bastila sighed and answered her question with an affirmative. Yes, she would save him again.

"No one deserves death, no matter what their crimes." The quote echoed loudly in her mind, strengthening her resolve.

Revan may have been a murderer on a massive scale, but he was still a man with a soul – a soul that Bastila had seen glimpses of – and she could not condone letting him die. She frowned as she noticed a small trickle of blood leaking out from the cut across his forehead. Retrieving a clean cloth, she wiped away the blood, pulling up a chair next to the bed and sinking down into it.

As she gazed down at Revan, she realized that he looked…calm, when he slept. Not innocent, not vulnerable, but no longer troubled, as if the storm raging inside had quieted to allow him a few moments of respite. He no longer looked angry, or dangerous like he did when he was awake. The power that radiated from him even as he was unconscious was enough to remind Bastila of how dangerous he was, but as she studied him, she found that everything that was previously harsh about him now seemed softer, like it could be used gently or tenderly.

She wiped another dribble of blood away, this one from the cut on his neck, and carefully brushed his hair away from his forehead, making sure it did not get in the cut there. His skin was sticky and hot, attesting to the fever ravaging his body. His chest rose and fell shallowly; Bastila placed her hand over his heart and felt its erratic rhythm. Sighing again, she got up from her seat and picked up the bowl she had dropped when Revan passed out.

Refilling it with cool water, Bastila returned to Revan's side and dabbed his skin with a water-soaked washcloth. The water mingled with the light sweat that covered his body, making his skin glisten beneath the light of the biosphere. She watched as it pooled in any dip in his body and clung to some curves – between his abdominals, in his navel, on his chest, on a vein here and there on his arms, in the hollow of his neck, on his lips…

Bastila wondered if Revan thought of her in the same way, if his gut impulses worked without his mind's consent, as hers did when she looked at him. She was certain it was likely worse for him; he was a man, and Bastila knew men were visual creatures. What did he see when he looked at her? Was she nothing more than visual stimulation for him? Bastila found that she was inclined to disagree with this train of thought. He might have noticed things about her as she did him, but she had never caught Revan truly inspecting her as one would inspect a belonging. His eyes had never roved over her in pure lust, or lingered far too long on an area they shouldn't. Surprisingly, Bastila felt a twinge of disappointment at that realization. He had looked at her appraisingly and clinically, but she had yet to catch him watching her in a way that was less than 'strictly professional.'

Bastila had to hand it to him – he was good at keeping himself in check. Or, at least, good at keeping himself in check when she was watching him. But what thoughts went through his head? She wasn't sure that she wanted to know. As it was, hers were becoming harder to keep…unaffected, by the pull he seemed to have on her, and she did not want to assume anything about his. Was this pull a one-way feeling? Bastila knew from his own admission that he wanted to sleep with her…but what exactly did that mean? Was that simply an acknowledgement that he wished to have her for physical pleasure and nothing more? Was Revan even capable of anything more? He had shown her tenderness before…but did that mean anything at all?

So many questions…and still so many that remained unanswered.

"Why do you have to be so damn confusing?" she asked aloud to his unconscious form. "Why are there so many things I don't understand about you? The Council said you were one-dimensional – an evil, conquering warlord bent on destroying the Republic – but they couldn't have been more wrong. Why…" her voice lowered to a whisper. "…why can't I ignore you? Why can't I ignore this?"

"Revan does tend to have that affect on people," the doctor's calming voice said from behind her.

Bastila started and whipped her head around, her cheeks flushing a brilliant reddish hue. "How long were you there?"

The doctor smiled softly, indicating he meant to be no threat. "Long enough to realize that you're stuck in a problem you don't know how to fix. Right?"

Bastila stared at him for a while before nodding soundlessly. "Yes…you are right. I have never been in this position before," she admitted. "It's…unnerving, to say the least."

"Been in what position? Wanting someone you're supposed to hate?" the doctor said forwardly.

Bastila felt her blush return stronger than before. "I wouldn't put it so…bluntly as that, but to a degree…yes."

"Why are you supposed to hate him, if I may ask?"

Bastila frowned lightly as she glanced back at Revan, dabbed at his seeping wounds, and turned back to the doctor. "I'm supposed to hate him because I am a Jedi and he is a Sith. We are polar opposites…and opposites do not mix. Good and evil do not coincide."

"Don't they?" the doctor countered. "Look at the universe. Is there not good and evil everywhere you turn? And though good and evil conflict constantly, do they not coexist together?"

Bastila opened her mouth, but paused. "I…suppose you are right. I guess what I meant is they do not exist together peaceably."

"No, they do not. But just because Revan is supposed to be "evil" doesn't mean you have the right to hate him," the doctor challenged.

"And I don't. I can't. I hate what he has done, the countless thousands he has killed…but I cannot hate him." Bastila paused. "I was taught to see him as a faceless, soulless monster, but he is not that…"

The doctor's soft smile was back. "No, he is not, is he?"

Bastila shook her head. "To be honest…I was shocked when I found out he was a man. That he had a soul, a conscience…that he had the capacity for mercy, kindness and compassion…."

The doctor noticed the pauses between her words and realized she was thinking them over carefully. "Revan is an enigma to you, I am assuming?"

Bastila sighed in exasperation. "Yes, he is! And I just can't figure him out. One moment he's cold and cruel, and the next he's pledging to keep me safe. I don't understand him. He's a walking contradiction."

Bastila watched the man across from her sigh and place his intertwined fingers over his mouth, thinking. "I can't tell you what goes on in Revan's mind, because frankly, I don't know. What I can tell you is that Revan believes – truly believes – that what he is doing is best for the Republic. He believes that there is no other way to save it – he must destroy it and rebuild it in order to keep it alive, to keep it safe. This is his driving ideal. This is what keeps him going." The older man paused. "Dark side, Light side…Revan is a bit of both, if much more on the darker side of the scale at the moment. That does not mean his compassion or capacity for emotion is lost. He still feels very strongly, he is just very adept at burying his emotions, at hiding them from others so that he does not get hurt or so that he will not show any weakness." He took a breath. "Revan has been out of touch with his emotions for a while, so the way he reacts may seem counterintuitive to you."

Bastila was silent, listening raptly to the doctor's words. His explanation made things clearer, but still did not answer many of her questions. And so, she posed another one. "I…don't mean to pry, but there are things that he has said to me, things that hint about events in his past. How much would be safe for you to tell me?"

The doctor sat back in his chair and eyed her warily. "That…that is certainly a dangerous subject. Revan is very close-mouthed about his past, and for reasons that are his own. He has told me many things in confidence, but as to what I can or will divulge to you…I'm not sure. Ask your questions, and I'll answer what I can."

Bastila nodded, grateful for the mere chance to know. Taking a breath, she tried to remember all the things she wanted to know. The first thing that came to mind was out of her mouth before she had a chance to realize what it sounded like.

"Has Revan tried to commit suicide before?"

The doctor blinked, taken slightly aback by that question. He sighed and stood, walking over to where Revan was laying on the bed. Taking the unconscious man's head into his hands, he gently tilted it back until the bottom of Revan's chin was visible. Pointing his index finger to a spot on his chin, the doctor spoke.

"Do you see that mark?"

Bastila leaned closer and saw through the thick stubble that shadowed his chin what looked like a circular burn mark. "Yes…"

"Revan put a blaster where that scar is and pulled the trigger. The gun misfired and he only succeeded in melting his skin, muscle, and part of the underside of his tongue. A week of kolto fixed that."

Bastila blinked and swallowed. So he had attempted to commit suicide. But why? "Did he tell you why he did it?"

The doctor sighed and let Revan's head back down gently. "You have no idea what Revan has been through – no one does but himself; I don't, and he has told me more than anyone else. His reasons for trying to end his life are his own, and he has not allowed me to know."

Bastila nodded, believe the doctor; pausing for a brief moment, she posed her next question. "Revan told me that he had been forced to wear a Force suppression collar. When was that?"

The doctor gave a bitter laugh. "You might want to get the story from Revan himself. All I'll say is that it was during the Mandalorian Wars; in one of the times he was captured and held as a prisoner of war. Ask only if you are not squeamish."

Bastila's brows furrowed and she nodded hesitantly. Obviously, that was not a pleasant story in the least. "I suppose I should wait and ask him what happened to change him from the greatest Jedi Knight the galaxy had seen in decades to the most powerful Dark Lord of the Sith that had been seen in centuries?"

The man across from her nodded. "Yes. That is an interesting story. If Revan tells you, I think you will learn a lot about him as a man from it."

Bastila glanced down at Revan and wiped away the blood from his leaking wounds again. "Assuming he wakes up again to tell me."

The doctor's face was hard-set. "I'm not going to let him die. He's worked too hard for all of this…and I owe him my life many times over. He will wake up."


(Four days later)

"Dammit!"

Bastila barely cringed as the data pad slammed into the floor and shattered. "Negative?"

"Yes!" The doctor paced around the lab furiously. "What the hell is wrong? It should work! But every time we inject him with the anti-toxin he gets better for a few hours but then just continues to deteriorate anyway. I don't understand it!"

"Maybe we're going at this the wrong way. Maybe it's not a toxin…Are you sure there was nothing else abnormal on the blood smears?" Bastila inquired.

The doctor frowned slightly at the implied insult to his laboratory skills. "Nothing that jumped out at me. We can run the tests again if it would put your mind at ease. I have a fresh sample that we can put under the microscope." He glanced up at his young companion and noted the far-off look on her face. "I know that look…do you have an idea of what's going on?" he questioned.

Bastila's eyes snapped back into focus and she frowned. "No, just a theory."

When it became obvious that the young Jedi wasn't going to elaborate, the doctor gently prompted, "Which is…?"

Bastila looked momentarily nervous. "Well, there must be a reason why the anti-toxin isn't neutralizing the source of the infection. I figure that's because the toxin isn't the primary problem, it's a side effect of the main pathogen which is probably a –"

"A parasite!" the doctor finished in awe; Bastila nodded. "That would make sense… but why wouldn't it show up on the original tests?"

Bastila shrugged, massaging her pounding head with thumb and forefinger. "I'm not sure… maybe the infection level was too low. If we took the blood sample before the parasite had a chance to reproduce, there's a possibility that we didn't draw up enough blood to catch one of the little blighters. I still think it's worth running a second test; even if it is a long shot."

"Agreed." The doctor disappeared for perhaps half a minute and returned with the needed materials. He and Bastila worked quickly to prepare everything, and they soon found themselves gazing down at magnified images of Revan's blood.

Both noticed the abnormality at the same time and pulled back to look at one another. Bastila was the first to go back to the magnified image. Red blood cells were plentiful, but what caught her eye was the presence of many dark, deep blue…creatures swimming around in the blood.

"There you are…" she breathed, relief washing over her. "Certainly looks like a parasite…"

The doctor was silent for a few moments. "But what kind?"

"I don't know, but it's taken over some of his cells already and…it looks like it's mutated them. I can't tell if they're still alive though."

"The mutated cells? They're still alive. You would see the body trying to rid itself of them if they were dead, but there's no sign of that at all."

"True," Bastila admitted.

The doctor stood up and backed away from the microscope. "But is it the mutation that's killing Revan? Or is it the –"

"Get over here!" She interrupted, motioning wildly. "It's secreting something! What's a bet that's our toxin?"

The doctor moved faster than he had in years and was staring down Bastila's microscope within two seconds. She was right…it was secreting something. Something that was causing all of the red blood cells in the vicinity to rupture – and then it began to feed on the carnage. He let out a heavy sigh. "That's what's killing him…"

"Well then let's find a way to stop it."

The doctor looked at Bastila's young face, seeing the resolute determination in her eyes. "This is going to get me in trouble…but you care about him don't you?" He received a glare for that statement.

"I have saved his life once already. What makes you think I would hesitate to do it again?" she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nothing. I'm just accustomed to someone wishing so ardently to save someone else's life only if they care for that person," the doctor answered, shrugging.

Bastila's smile was unreadable. "Perhaps I just want him alive so I can find answers to my questions. Or perhaps I gain a certain pleasure out of making his life utter hell. Perhaps I feel that I am safest if he is alive. Or, perhaps, I pity the man in that bed who is suffering because he sacrificed himself to keep all of us safe. Perhaps I think that there is more to him than he shows, and I want to find out what. I have many reasons for wanting to keep Revan alive, as do you, I'm sure. Why do you want him kept alive so badly, hmm?" It was an emblematic question. She paused, managing to somehow look down her nose at him, though he was taller. "Now, don't you have a job to do, doctor?" she asked, her tone almost biting.

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her and replied, matching her tone, though his was calmer. "Yes, I have a job to do. So do you. I don't see you taking care of him like I ordered."

Bastila laughed, turning and walking towards the door. "Good try, doctor. I'll see you when you have a cure."

She heard the doctor's chuckle as she left, and she managed a small smile. The stress was getting to them, causing them to snap at each other, argue, but they still managed to keep it rather good-natured. As she neared Revan's biosphere, Bastila felt a deep unease grip her, and as she entered the biosphere, she realized why.

Malak was standing over his master, gazing down at his unconscious form, arms crossed over his broad chest. He glanced up as Bastila entered through the door, his yellow-brown eyes showing an ineffable emotion. "Is it true he is dying?" he asked in his mechanical, grating voice.

Bastila swallowed and forced herself to regain her confident, unaffected manner. She would not let Malak see that he frightened her. "If we do not find a way to aid him, then yes, he will die," she answered tightly.

Malak's eyes narrowed slightly. "And why should I trust my master's life to you, Jedi?"

Bastila's gaze narrowed equally, and her glare outmatched his. "Because while you were running for your life like a coward in a space battle, I was trying to save his!" she snapped.

Malak's hand flew up and clenched, and Bastila felt her lungs being forcibly deprived of air. "Don't you dare insult me, you little bitch!" he snarled. "Just because you're Revan's pet doesn't mean you're invincible! I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and Revan could do nothing to stop me," he growled, drawing closer to her. Bastila backed up, feeling her shoulder blades smack the metal wall behind her. Malak closed in still, stopping mere inches from her form, still choking her. Bastila felt pangs of true fear grip her as she gazed helplessly up into Malak's eyes, her vision blackening on the edges from lack of oxygen, her limbs burning and growing heavy, her knees sagging.

Bringing his large hand up to her face, he held his clenched fist there for a few moments longer before opening his palm to her and letting go of his chokehold. Bastila sank down to her knees and gasped for air, her hand protectively over her throat. She watched Malak's booted feet exit the biosphere, and only then did she make to get up. Walking slowly, shakily over to where Revan's still-unconscious form lay, she sank down into the chair next to his bed.

Bastila could not risk resisting Malak through the Force, as she was still supposed to have her Force suppression collar on; and so there was nothing she could do to stop the apprentice from choking the life out of her any time he wished to do so through the Force. Being helpless was not something Bastila was accustomed to, and this incident now with Malak made her hate the feeling even more. If only Revan were awake…

She sighed, checking his cuts for infection and making sure he was still breathing and had a normal pulse. But he was not awake, and there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. Not until they found a way to kill the parasite that had taken up residence in his body. Yet again, an area where Bastila was rendered rather helpless. She was most effective taking care of Revan, staying by his side, but she still wished to help in discovering how to destroy this new parasite. She was just as well trained as any doctor, and just as knowledgeable, but somehow, fate had seen fit to relegate her to the task of being at Revan's bedside – the place furthest away from finding a cure for him.

She stayed like that for hours, sitting next to him, lost in her own thoughts – or so she assumed. Somewhere along the line Bastila had drifted off, but a growling groan brought her awake again, and she focused on Revan's form. His face was contorted in a grimace, his teeth gritted, and he was half-writhing on the bed, his head shoved back into the pillow beneath it. Bastila gently grabbed his face and leaned close to him, trying to calm him.

"Shh..." she whispered soothingly, using one hand to tenderly stroke his hair. Revan stopped writhing almost immediately, though his breathing remained harder than normal and he was still tense. His eyes opened, though she could tell they were unseeing, and rolled back into his head until the whites were the only things showing. He coughed suddenly, and a dribble of blood leaked out of his mouth. Bastila winced, having a good idea why he was coughing up blood. Whatever toxin that parasite secreted had obviously started to cause damage to the blood vessels in his lungs, and with his current inability to clot, his risk of internal bleeding from other organs would be high.

Revan coughed again, bringing up more frothy blood, and Bastila hastily wiped at his mouth, smacking at the call button the doctor had placed near the dying man's bed. The doctor burst in and cursed as he saw what was happening.

"Shit…internal?" he asked as he came to the other side of Revan's bed.

"Yes – it just started like this," Bastila replied, still holding Revan's head in her hands.

"There's no way I can pinpoint the internal bleeding fast enough – "

"Well you're going to have to try! Would kolto do nothing?"

He shook his head. "It might delay the bleeding, but it would only provide more fresh tissue for the parasite to feed upon, thus prolonging its life." The doctor stretched medical gloves over his hands and pried Revan's mouth open, swiping his finger around and shining a light inside, peering around for a good while. "The bleeding doesn't seem severe…he should be fine for now. If it gets worse, let me know. We'll have to put him on a steady drip of kolto if his condition deteriorates any further. We have no idea how many major organs this parasite has infected…and how much damage it has done. I am most concerned for his brain and his heart. Let's pray those are not damaged beyond repair."

Neither of them noticed the door open and a young, nervous looking man step inside. "Uh…sir? I don't mean to interrupt but…you might want to come back to the lab."

Bastila and the doctor both snapped their heads around to look at this newcomer, the doctor standing and removing his gloves as he did so.

"Look at what?" he demanded.

"Well, due to the sheer number of scientists you put on this case, and purely by luck, we've already discovered a chemical that might possibly kill the parasite. It needs refinement though…for medical purposes."

The doctor glanced back at Bastila. "A few hours and already we have a possible weapon against this thing…whatever is watching over Revan is powerful indeed."


(2 days later)

Bastila stared at the syringe in the doctor's hand. "This will kill the parasite?"

He nodded.

"You're sure?"

"The lab tests proved 99.9 per cent effective."

"What happened in the other 0.1 per cent?" she queried.

"Allergic reaction to the compound. Very rare, but still possible."

Bastila turned to Revan's unconscious, parasite-ridden form. "What about the mutated cells? What does it do to those?"

"Kills some, leaves some alive. But the mutated cells don't seem to have any adverse effect on the normal red blood cells, so their presence is not harmful. Bastila, this is Revan's best shot. If it works, he lives; if it doesn't, he dies either way."

She sighed. "I know…I just don't want to hasten his death if we screw up."

He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "You and I have done all that we can – whatever fate decides is what we must live with."

Bastila was staring at Revan's almost-serene face. "Give it to him," she said quietly, hoping to the Force that she was not giving the order to end Revan's life. As she watched the doctor insert the needle into the IV port on Revan's hand, Bastila wondered just exactly why she wanted to keep Revan alive so badly.

Did she, like the doctor suggested, care for him? She didn't want to see him come to any physical harm, and she certainly did not want him to die. Did that count as caring for him? He intrigued her like no other man had, and she wished to know all that she could about him…did that count as caring for him? She wanted to ease his suffering, to aid him, help him…did that count as caring for him? Bastila could not rightly answer; all that she knew was that there was something inside of her that drove her to keep Revan alive, to help him in any way she could, despite the fact that he was her enemy.

Enemy, her inner voice snorted bitterly. He is no enemy of yours. The Dark Lord of the Sith, maybe, but not Revan. The man himself is not your enemy – he is nothing more than a man.

Bastila could not disagree with this argument. Revan as a symbol was her enemy, yes, but as a man…somehow, he was not. He was something much more…complicated. A loud beeping brought her back to the real world.

"What the hell does that mean?" she demanded, seeing that Revan's vitals were out of normal range. Fear rose within her, fear that she had inadvertently killed him.

The doctor held up a hand, palm facing her. "Hold on – it's normal for his vitals to do that. The serum is killing things inside of him; that's a lot of stress on his body. Give it a minute to stabilize – it's only been a few seconds."

Bastila blinked, realizing he was right. Her convoluted thoughts had only distracted her for a mere few seconds. As the doctor predicted, within a minute, Revan's vital signs had stabilized, and he was, supposedly, on the road to recovery. Whether or not that was true remained to be seen.


A day later, Bastila watched Revan slowly open his eyes and almost immediately shut them again against the bright light. His cuts had stopped leaking blood and were clotting normally, he had ceased coughing up blood, his fever had broken, and now he had regained consciousness. That did not mean he was out of danger yet, but it was a start.

"Revan?" she asked quietly, placing a hand on his bandaged shoulder, the one closest to her.

"What?" he growled, bringing his left hand up to rub his eyes.

"Just making sure you were really awake. How do you feel?"

His emerald irises became visible again, locking onto her grey ones. "Like shit. You?" he asked, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Bastila gave him a wry smile. "Like hell." She paused, watching him look around. "Would you like to sit up?" she asked.

Revan glanced at her in distaste, obviously unhappy that something as simple as sitting now possibly required help. "Yes…that would be preferable."

"Move slowly," Bastila ordered, standing and leaning over him, not yet touching his body.

He looked at her for a few seconds before very gingerly placing his palms flat against the bed and pushing himself up. Bastila stayed where she was, not moving until he either needed her help or made it on his own. Revan's face was set in a pained grimace, but he sat up under his own power and scooted backwards, looking around rather alertly for one who had just been in a week-long coma.

"How long was I out?" he asked, his voice a hoarse growl from not being used for so long.

"A little over a week," she replied, seeing the shock in his face.

"Over a week?" he croaked. "Son of a…what happened while I was dying?" he asked darkly; she noticed the morbid comment but did not say anything about it.

"Apparently, nothing monumental. Some skirmish with Republic soldiers, but no real battles. No diplomatic needs either." Bastila had been informed by the doctor that this would likely be Revan's first or second question, so she had made it a priority to find out what the goings on of his empire had been during the week he was almost terminally ill.

Revan nodded, absorbing this information and falling silent for a moment. His perceptive gaze was still roaming around the biosphere, taking in everything new. Medical equipment littered the area, but what caught his attention was the number of food packets that decorated the floor around the right side of his bed, around a chair that was situated next to him.

"Did you sleep in that chair?" he asked curiously, but in a slightly detached manner.

Bastila glanced behind her, noting his seeming politeness. "Yes." She snorted. "I lived in that chair."

He peered up at her, uncomprehending. "Why?"

He watched her bring her brows together some and then bite her bottom lip – a gesture that drew his gaze to her mouth and immediately brought up suppressed desires; namely, the wish to feel the softness of her lips against his.

"Why? Because I had to stay with you to make sure you were all right. I had to take care of you," she answered.

It was Revan's turn to furrow his brows. "Take care of me? As in…all aspects of that phrase?"

Bastila gave him a half-smile that said she was exhausted but still found his worry humorous. "No, not all aspects of that phrase. I let your doctor take care of things that would have been…inappropriate in any way."

He relaxed a bit. Good. I don't need her to see all of me when I'm like this…he thought. Just because he slept with women often didn't mean he wasn't still self-conscious about certain things, and for some reason, that self-consciousness was amplified when it came to Bastila.

"What was wrong with me?" Revan asked, infinitely curious as to why he had been brought to the brink of death.

Bastila sighed and sank down wearily into her chair, noticing how detached he seemed to be about his own death. "There was a parasite in your bloodstream from the animal's bite. It was able to secrete some kind of chemical that destroyed your red blood cells and tissues…so in essence, it was causing you to bleed out internally, and externally from the cuts and wounds you received. You had no antibodies to the toxin, and nothing hardy enough to attack the parasites. Essentially your body's defenses were utterly useless, which is why you deteriorated so rapidly," she explained as briefly as she could.

Revan was silent and thoughtful for a long while. When he did speak, it was not on what Bastila expected to hear. "During the time I was unconscious…how much of that did you spend at my bedside?"

She blinked, taken aback. "Most of it…your wounds were bleeding openly. I had to stay with you to make sure you didn't die from blood loss. That and you seemed to do best under my care." Bastila shrugged, half-smiling again. "I suppose I stayed because you liked me more than the others."

Revan snorted breathily. "Ha, yes, I suppose so. I don't presume to explain my subconscious reactions."

"Neither do I," she stated with a curiously indecipherable look in her eyes. Revan raised an eyebrow at her but she simply stood and began to pick up the trash around her seat, depositing it in the trash receptacle in the kitchen area. He watched her do this, noting how slow her movements were, but yet, how graceful they still seemed. His eyes ran down her form from behind, appreciating every slender curve of her body. It had been nearly a week since his vision had been graced with her image, and it seemed it was having some form of withdrawals; Bastila was not necessarily a drug, but he did enjoy the sight of her. She was immensely aesthetically pleasing: her athletically feminine form, slim waist, slender thighs, perfect breasts, full lips, and captivatingly beautiful grey eyes – all of this appealed to him visually as a man.

Was that the only reason he wanted her? Revan was privy to visions of women as stunning as she at least once a week, what with the way he spent his nights, but those women did not compare with Bastila. What was it that made her so different? Was it her sharp wit? Her dry, clever sense of humor? Revan had met many women with beautiful bodies and intelligent personalities, but they still did not hold the allure that Bastila held. He started to mull over this but halted as the answer slid through his consciousness in a soft but firm declaration.

It was her compassion.

Revan had never experienced such sincere kindness from anyone before…and it had a strong pull on him, stronger than he would've liked to admit. Such empathy, such care was not something he was used to in the least, and so its impact on him was much greater than Bastila intended or realized. Of her own admission, she had slept in a chair next to his bed for nearly a week, just to make sure he made it through each day and night.

Why?

"Bastila…"

He frowned. His voice was not cooperating, but Bastila did not seem to mind. He watched as she returned to his side, her eyes hinting at concern as she gave him a quick once-over.

"Hm?"

Revan paused, finding her soft response incredibly sensual. Forcing himself to keep focused, he spoke. "Why did you stay next to my bed this whole time?"

She gave him a look. "I told you – I had to make sure you didn't die overnight."

Revan shot a look right back at her. "I know that," he stated somewhat irritably. "What was the reason you chose to stay by my bedside? You could've delegated the task to someone else."

Bastila was silent for a moment, staring at something across from her. When she looked back down at him, her eyes were filled with uncertainty, and there was a sad, nervous smile on her face. "You know, it seems that every time I am near you, some sort of mortal disaster befalls you."

"So you stayed with me because you blame yourself for my injury?" he interrupted, finding himself somewhat stung by the selfishness of her response. But then again, why should he have expected anything else? She was shaking her head, however, and so he kept his ears open.

"No – you didn't let me finish," she said softly but firmly. "That is part of the reason I chose to stay with you, yes. I felt I needed to do something to make up for seemingly being a curse to you. You nearly died on your ship because of me, and now, you almost died protecting all of us down in that cave." Bastila paused, breaking eye contact with him, but bringing her effervescent grey irises back to his emerald ones soon after. "I have never wished for you to die, Revan; please know that. My intentions upon boarding your ship were to capture you if at all possible, never kill you. Then, I did not know you, and I didn't want to kill you. Now, I know some of who and what you are, and I do not wish to kill you in the least. I don't believe you deserve to die, because I have seen in you the ability to be kind, to show mercy. Only those who are past feeling, past any semblance of good and utterly consumed by their own evil deserve death. You are not like that." Bastila halted, fearing that in her exhaustion, she had said too much, exposed herself too greatly.

Revan listened to her, shocked by her honesty and touched by her apparent faith in his character. His smile was tinged with sadness. "You seem to have more faith in me than I have in myself," he told her, his tone cold. "I am not a good man, Bastila. Let go of any notion you cling to with that. You will not change me; you will not bring me back to the Light. I do not want to go back to the Light." He took a breath, finding himself slightly dizzy. "What you did for me…I do not deserve it, and for that, I am immensely grateful to you. I owe you my life twice over – that is not an easy debt to pay back," Revan finished, his voice softening somewhat.

Bastila was silent, thinking. "Do you fear death, Revan?"

His intense green eyes gazed up at her, searching her face. The thought that she probably looked like hell flitted through her mind, but she didn't care.

"Do I fear death?" There was a gap between his sentences that seemed to stretch on forever. "It depends on what form it comes in."

She was not prepared for that answer. "What do you mean?"

"If I am to die in battle, at someone's hand because they are more skilled than I, then no, I do not fear death. But this…what just happened – being infected with something beyond my control…yes, I fear that greatly," he answered.

"What about by your own hand?"

His eyes darkened. As he looked into hers, he saw that she knew somehow. "Who told you?" he asked, though he already knew – there was only one person who could've told her. His voice was quiet, controlled.

Bastila had learned to fear this tone of voice, but she pressed this subject, needing to know for a reason beyond her comprehension. She reached out a hand and gently brushed her fingertips against the underside of his chin, feeling the stubble that had grown there but feeling the scar as well. His eyes darted down, surprised at the contact, but he did not jerk away.

"Why did you do it?" she asked softly, letting her hand fall to rest with her fingers grazing his neck, her palm resting high on his chest.

Revan closed his eyes, simply feeling Bastila's smaller hand resting on his chest, her fingers barely rubbing against his neck. Her touch was soothing to him, though he was not sure why. He would've expected it to excite him, if anything, not calm him. Pushing that unexplainable phenomenon out of his mind for the moment, he debated on whether or not to tell her why he had shot himself in the head.

"Why do you want to know?"

Bastila stared at him evenly. "I don't need a reason, Revan. I just want to know."

He sighed, feeling her hand shift slightly as he exhaled. The strong urge to tell her was welling up inside of him, and it scared him somewhat. Well, why the hell not? If she wants to know, why not tell her? Not like it can do any harm…

Deciding that it could not hurt anything, and that telling her might prove to be some form of therapy for him, he spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing every now and then to think. "It was during the Mandalorian Wars, after Malachor V. Not the battle, but when I discovered the planet for the first time. I went down on the surface…the Dark side there is stronger than anything you could ever imagine. It almost killed me…and I think that's when I developed my unique fear of death. I gave in to the Dark side – it was the only way to stay alive. I discovered a place there that held…awful secrets. Things that no one should find. Things that no one should see. I came back from Malachor V a different man. There was no way I could be the same person I was before I found that place."

Revan paused again, sighing once more, still feeling the light pressure of Bastila's hand on his chest. "All the things I saw there…I couldn't handle it. Not all at once. I put a blaster here," he reached up his left hand and rubbed at his scar on the underside of his chin, "and pulled the trigger." He laughed once, darkly. "It didn't exactly…go as I had planned. The damn thing misfired, and I ended up melting a hole in the bottom of my jaw. Took a day immersed in a kolto tank and a week of injections to fix it."

Revan's fingertips brushed against the back of her hand as he lowered his, and Bastila felt a burning tingle shoot down her arm and linger on her hand. As it was, her palm was already buzzing from touching his skin for so long. Slowly, she drew her hand back and saw Revan's gaze follow it until it rested on the bed beside him.

"Do you fear death, Bastila?" she heard Revan's deep, still slightly growling voice ask her softly.

She looked up at him and without pause answered, "Yes, I fear death."

"You were faced with certain death on the bridge of my ship when you confronted me. Yet you did not back down, though you say you fear death."

Bastila nodded. "I was afraid then, make no mistake of that. I knew that it was likely I would die that day, but…it didn't hinder me. It didn't stop me from doing what I needed to do, which was attempt to capture you."

Revan gave a single nod. "That is good – you have more courage and bravery than most of my men. I admire that in you," he admitted, his tone serious. "The fear of death is not a bad thing; it is how you handle it – the fear and death itself – that reveals your true character."

Bastila concurred, but did not speak as it seemed Revan was not finished. She was right, as he exhaled once more and rubbed his left hand along his nearly bearded jaw.

"It seems that my character was lacking at that point in my life…"

"Perhaps not," Bastila counseled him. "Maybe it was just lack of ability to cope with such a traumatic experience. Everyone has their threshold – perhaps you reached yours."

Revan gazed up at her, respect evident in his eyes. "Hmm, you could be right. I was…emotionally and mentally unstable at that time. Maybe I just couldn't handle the stress, so I took what I perceived as uncontrollable – death – into my own hands so that I could have some semblance of power over it."

"Exactly," she agreed. Pausing for a minute, she decided upon her next question. "The Mandalorian Wars…I was not a part of any of that, so I know only what I have been told. What…what was it like? How bad was it?" Bastila asked hesitantly, unsure how he would react to that.

He snorted bitterly. "How bad? Worse than you can dream of. The Mandalorians…they showed no mercy. None. Pillaging, burning, raping…none of it was off limits. The thing I remember as a constant during the war was the screaming. Someone was always screaming. In terror, in pain, in anger…or maybe a combination of those. Mostly women screaming – awful sounds. The ones being raped were the worst. Made my blood boil…I would always make it a special priority to find the bastards who were doing the raping and kill them – and I would make it painful. I made them pay for what they had done."

Bastila distinctly felt the anger coming off of him through the Force, and had she not been Force-adept, she could've perceived it in the tension in his muscles and the smoldering glint in his eyes. She placed a hand lightly on his right forearm and felt his muscles relax beneath her touch. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his left hand, taking a deep breath.

"The men were almost as bad…the screams. It was when they screamed with no dignity, no...no semblance of masculinity that made it horrible. Hearing a grown man, battle hardened and tough as hell scream like that…it shakes you inside. It makes you question yourself, if you're strong enough, or if you would do what he did." Revan winced and pressed on his temples with his thumb and middle finger, a pressure headache forming. "Torture was common among prisoners of war. I was tortured, and I watched many men be tortured. Their methods were brutal. They murdered your dignity, stripped you of any pride, degraded you beyond what you thought was possible…and then repeated the process until you broke or died. Or, in my case, escaped or were rescued."

Revan stopped talking again and Bastila spoke up. "Was that when you had to wear a Force suppression collar?"

Revan's eyes slid to her, with a bemused half-grin. "Do you keep a mental recording of everything I say?"

Bastila sat back some, slightly embarrassed. "No…only the things that interest or confuse me. When you hint at things, then yes, I will remember that."

He was quiet for a little while longer. "Yes. That was when I had to wear a Force suppression collar." His eyes met hers, and she saw that they were hard and cold as ice. "And no, I will not tell you what happened. I've already told you more than you should be allowed to know."

"Why?" Bastila challenged, crossing her right leg over her left as she sat back fully in the chair, gazing at him.

"Why did I tell you?" She nodded, and he thought hard about it. "I suppose because you asked. I said you could ask me questions and I would try to answer them – I am keeping my word." He half-grinned, though there was little humor in the action. "That, and I know that you will keep asking me until I tell you. I try to avoid that as much as possible."

"He's awake?"

Both Revan and Bastila turned to look at the doctor who was standing just inside the doorway. Revan spoke first.

"Aren't we observant? Yes, I'm awake."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Awake and as pleasant as ever, I see."

"Hm, I wasted all my pleasantness on my nurse here."

"Ah, I take it she was interrogating you in much the same way she did me?" the doctor asked, a humorous light dancing in his eyes.

Revan snorted breathily. "Oh yes. She's tenacious. I might have to claim mental rape."

The doctor laughed out loud as Bastila's eyes widened and she blushed and spluttered. "Mental rape! I did no such thing!"

Revan's grin was slightly wicked. "Oh, but didn't you? I don't feel that I consented to the little exchange we had. The information was pressured out of me."

"You little lying arse!" she exclaimed, sitting forward.

"See? And now she insults me," Revan said in a wearily resigned tone to the doctor. "You see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor chuckled. "Well, it was your decision to keep her. You and your damn libido."

Now it was Revan's turn to be embarrassed, though only slightly. "Now that is only half true," he countered.

"I'd say three-fourths true," the doctor argued.

Revan frowned, not enjoying discussing this subject – and his head was pounding unmercifully. The doctor noticed this and immediately dropped the subject, resuming his professional air.

"How is he doing?" the man asked Bastila, checking Revan's pulse.

She opened her mouth to reply but Revan interrupted her. "I am right here, you know."

They both ignored him, and Bastila replied. "He's doing remarkably well for what he's just been through. His alertness is impressive, seeing as he was just in a coma. Overall, he's doing much better than I expected."

"I see he's sitting up. Did he do that by himself?"

"Yes, I did," Revan interjected again.

"That's good," the doctor said, talking to Revan. "How do you feel? Sore? Sluggish?"

"I feel tired and weak. And I'm hungry."

"Bastila, could you get some food for him please?"

The female Jedi nodded and got up from her chair, making her way into the kitchen and heating up food. She brought it back to Revan and handed it to him; he took it with a quick, grunted "thanks" and began to eat, not even asking what it was. Bastila watched him eat, seeing that he had the presence of mind to do so slowly, though he was famished. The doctor was checking everything once more to make sure all was well; satisfied, he took a small step back.

"You should be up and about in a few days, but –"

Revan coughed and swallowed his food quickly. "Bullshit. I'm getting out of this bed today."

The doctor glared at him. "That's not wise."

"When have I ever listened to your advice on recovery time? I don't need it. I can heal myself."

The doctor sighed. "Show me you can heal yourself, and I will let you get up. Just don't blame me if you fall flat on your face."

Revan gave the doctor a half-glare and pulled away the bandage from his wounded shoulder. Closing his eyes, he exhaled a deep breath and let the Force flow through him completely, touching every molecule of his being. Concentrating, he directed it to where his shoulder was, manipulating it to knit the tissues back together and close up the holes. The doctor watched in rapt fascination as Revan's skin drew closed again, scarred for a few moments, then flattened and smoothed as if nothing had ever pierced it. Revan's emerald eyes seemed to shine as he opened them, looking directly at the man next to his bed.

"Is that a thorough enough demonstration for you?"

The older man sighed. "Yes, Revan…it is. But I still think you should rest for at least a day; you don't know what the internal bleeding and blood-loss might have done to you."

"I feel fine enough to be up and about walking," Revan countered.

"Just give me one hour in a kolto tank."

The Dark Lord sighed. "Fine. One hour, starting now. Let's go."

The doctor removed Revan's IV from his hand and the younger man swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing slowly but under his own strength. Almost as soon as he straightened up, the color left Revan's face, and he swayed dangerously. Closing his eyes, Revan waited until the urge to faint passed and continued steadily on his way – still woozy from bloodloss.

Bastila had to admit, she was impressed at Revan's resiliency. The man had been brought to the brink of death, and here he was, minutes after waking up, already walking around. Not bothering to fully dress, the Sith Lord grabbed a very thick robe and wrapped it around himself, saying that he could use the Force to fend off some of the cold.

Not wanting to argue with him anymore, the doctor simply let him do what he wanted. The two men left the biosphere, and Bastila waited until the door was closed to shut her eyes and slump back down in her chair. She was so very tired…but there was no way she was climbing into that bed after Revan had been infected with a parasite. Wearily, she stood, donned medical gloves, and grabbed the sheets of the bed, ripping them off and depositing them in the incinerator that was in the kitchen. She removed her gloves and tossed them in as well; finding a cleaning droid, she programmed it to sanitize the mattress, and she waited until it was finished to grab another pair of sheets and re-make the bed.

Now, with a sanitized mattress and clean sheets, Bastila had left only to wash herself. She turned the water in the shower on as hot as it could go and stepped beneath the pulsing stream, the feeling better than anything she had felt in a long time. Finding a soap that read "sandalwood rose" – a rich, soft scent that was soothing – she lathered up and scrubbed down with it. Washing and conditioning her hair, she finally switched off the water and stepped out, toweling off and using the Force to dry her hair quickly. If anyone felt that through the Force, she didn't care – she was too exhausted. Entering into the main room of the biosphere, she rummaged around for clothing but frustratingly, could find none of her own. Had she neglected to pack enough?

With a heavy sigh, she searched some more, succeeding in finding a pair of long pants that she had previously worn. But where in the Force was her shirt? Groaning, Bastila walked over to Revan's bag of clothing and pawed through it, pulling out a long sleeve grey shirt and slipping into it. If he got mad, then so be it. She was cold, and needed a shirt. Finally, Bastila was able to collapse on the soft mattress of the bed, and she crawled beneath the sheets, burrowing deeply and passing out almost instantly.


Revan stayed awake during his hour of kolto treatment. He had been asleep for a week, and though he had felt tired when he first woke up, that feeling had faded quickly as soon as the kolto hit his bloodstream; its healing properties went to work immediately, and Revan could feel it fixing things in almost the same way he sensed how the Force healed his tissues. His mind was distracted however, with the only thing that seemed to be able to occupy it as of late: Bastila.

He felt all too acutely her utter exhaustion through the Force, and somewhere deep inside of him, as if it was his too. Just another thing to make me believe that we have some kind of connection, he thought. But is it just a passing thing? Is it just because we've been in close proximity to each other for a prolonged period of time? Because she has an affinity for making mental connections? Or is it more…permanent than that?

Again, the feeling that having a more permanent connection with Bastila was not a bad thing surfaced in his mind, and he could not help but agree, at least somewhat. If nothing else, if they were connected, he would be able to influence her more directly, and with greater impact. Perhaps that would be the key in gaining her Battle Meditation for his war efforts? He hoped so. He had not pressed much on that as of late, being busy with so many other things, and he figured it was time to bring that subject back up again. Revan had been open with her earlier by sharing details of his past, and he suspected that she would see that as a sign of building more trust between them.

As it was, he saw it as a sign of building more trust between them. Though he did not understand why, Revan found that time and time again, he wanted to trust Bastila. There was something about her that made him feel he could be safe in confiding in her. He had managed to ignore that feeling for the most part, and had kept himself relatively closed off – until half an hour ago. Then, he had allowed himself to give in. Then, he had allowed himself to open up, but only enough to tell her the facts and a few musings of his own. The entire exchange had been rather emotionless on his part, and he had kept it that way on purpose.

He had no qualms telling her about the events in his past – for the most part – but Revan did have reservations about showing too much emotion around her. Just because he felt like he could trust her didn't mean he could; he had learned that lesson the hard way many times over in his life, and he was not about to make the same mistake again. Not with anything personal. Women could be manipulative creatures, and Revan knew that if he gave her too much, she could use it against him. And he hated being at a disadvantage.

Still, she had given him no reason to assume she would try to backstab him in anyway…and so he was inclined to make small steps forward in building their "relationship." Revan thought about what Bastila had said earlier, about how she had spent over five nights sleeping in a chair next to his side, just to make sure he lived. And she had not told him that with any bitterness in her voice – she had simply stated it as fact. Though he had asked her, and she had explained, he still did not understand why she would do that for him. The fact that she had made him realize that, if it came to it, he would do the same for her, though he was not sure if it was out of a sense of decorum or something else.

He had truly been angry that the creature had tried to make a claim on Bastila, and as he looked back on it, that baffled him a bit. Why was he being so possessive of her? Was is because he subconsciously wanted her as his? Because he wanted to sleep with her? Revan found that to be a claim of ownership in some twisted way, the fact that he wanted to sleep with her. Or perhaps it was not that, maybe it was that he was not going to let anyone else sleep with her that made it a claim of ownership. He did not fully understand it, but she brought out the possessiveness in him – she had ever since they had awoken comfortably tangled in his bed over a week ago.

As he remembered that, Revan felt a longing to experience that calm, contented comfort once more. He ached to feel her warmth again, to feel her breasts pressed lightly against his chest, to feel her hands on him, to feel her. Whenever they were touching, Revan felt it intensely, more so than when he touched anyone or anything else. Was that a side effect of their possible bond? For the first time, Revan let himself use the word "bond" to describe the feeling he got from her through the Force. He was tired of avoiding it, of pretending it didn't exist in his head. It was possible they were bonded, and he was going to find out one way or another.

Revan heard a muffled beeping noise and felt the kolto/water mix begin to drain from the tank. The glass slid up and he stepped out, taking the towel and clean pair of undergarments the doctor handed him. Making no attempt at modesty, he removed his wet article of clothing and slipped into the clean, dry pair of long boxers, donning a thermal suit the doctor had also provided and putting on the thick robe again as well.

"How do you feel?" his friend inquired gently.

Revan paused and assessed himself. "In all truth? Pretty damn good for nearly dying. I still feel slightly weak, but that will pass once I start to eat properly again."

"Good. You should probably get some rest again; even if you're not tired, your body is. And it will need some time to replace all those blood cells you lost. There's only so much kolto can do you know."

"Agreed," Revan said, walking to the door. He halted and half-turned. "Thank you," he said sincerely, and the doctor merely nodded.

"You go on and get rest. You need it."

Revan quickly made his way across the short, exposed distance it took to get back to the biosphere and slipped quietly inside. He took a few steps forward, as the biosphere was dark inside with no lights on; he could see perfectly, but he did not know why the lights were off. One glance at the bed told him why – Bastila was fast asleep beneath the sheets, her breathing even and rhythmic, her body relaxed, her aura peaceful through the Force. With a smile that only she managed to evoke in him, Revan slid out of the robe he was wearing and padded silently to his side of the bed, his gaze fixed on her the entire time.

Force she was beautiful…and he could only resist his instinctual urges and impulses for so long. He wanted her badly, for a number of reasons – she was in his bed, she was stunningly attractive, and he couldn't have her because she didn't want him. He realized then that he wanted her to want him more than anything in a long while. Maybe that was why he had answered her questions – because he had hoped she might be more inclined to want him? Though, in truth, he was tired of being seen as nothing more than an object useful for pleasure.

With a cynical smile, Revan figured that he finally understood the complaint women had voiced for so long – the utter frustration of being seen as an object for gratification. Yes, it allowed him to enjoy sex at a frequency that many men would kill for, but after a while, the knowledge that he was being used wore down on him. Even he, the Dark Lord of the Sith, craved validation every now and then that he was valuable to someone as a person, and not just as a sexual experience.

He returned his thoughts to the present. Did he think Bastila could give him that validation? Was that why he allowed himself to be more open with her – because he wanted her to see him, and want him, rather than want only what he could physically give her? As he mulled over it, Revan found he did not see Bastila as the kind of woman who could do that, use someone for her own selfish gains. And because he could not see her doing that, he felt safe in allowing himself to slowly be discovered by the small, stubborn, strikingly beautiful woman.

With a quiet exhale, Revan climbed into the bed in such a way so as not to wake the slumbering woman next to him and slid beneath the sheets. Bastila shivered lightly and Revan moved closer to her; she stopped shivering and relaxed once more. She turned her back to him, but scooted backwards some, closer to him. Revan gave a half-smile at this and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off to be gently cradled by slumber.