It's not giving up, it's giving in.
The thoughts that come in the hours following her confrontation with Malak are overwhelming, and they're heavy and there. They come alive the moment Revan's alone, and it's not that she's giving up on trying to fix it—she's giving in to the thoughts that make it difficult to start.
She stays in the portside dorms for some time, laying on her back on one of the bunks and trying to white out the noise of her mind. It started as a jumble of words and ideas, all of them self-reprimanding and unkind, but now it just sounds a lot like, I need a way out, I need a way out, I need a way out, and Revan doesn't know how to combat that.
So she keeps her eyes steady on the dull durasteel ceiling of the bunk, letting them unfocus and refocus on the flat gray expanse above her. Her mind drifts and she's quiet and everything feels like too much all at once. She doesn't know how to divide it up, make it easier to manage. It just sits like a weight on her chest and she lets it.
She hates herself, but she lets it.
Because she knows she should be trying to fix it. There's only so much time left before everything might fall apart, and here—now—everything's already fallen apart, but Revan still won't make herself get up to try and make it right.
When did you become so weak?, her mother asks her, and Revan closes her eyes.
I don't think strength is the answer, she replies. If she were stronger, she wouldn't have let it come this far. She would've known what to do with Malak the moment she saved him. If she were stronger, she would've handed him over right then and there, instead of giving in to her selfish desire to take everything from him. She knew what she was doing, of course she did, and she still did it.
Or maybe—she thought she knew what she was doing, but now it's just a bigger mess than it was. She thought she knew what she was doing because she thought she knew herself. Malak has...taken her apart. He's pulled out the missing pieces of her and patched them up the best he could, and Revan—she's still fighting for more.
At the end of the day, she'll always want more.
The sound of footsteps carries down the corridor, setting Revan's nerves on edge. She's still in the portside dorms, but at this point she's taken to sitting on the floor, her back against the bunk. She'd thought meditating might help, but all it did was leave her frustrated and disconnected, and her body's starting to feel sore from sitting on the rigid floor.
When she looks up, it's Carth's figure in the doorway. His expression is closed off, but he doesn't look angry. He stands there and he watches her and something doesn't feel right about this, but isn't that how it always is? Nothing has felt right for some time.
Her lips quirk to the side but she pats the space beside her. "Want to sit?"
He watches her for a moment longer before he visibly deflates, his mouth loosening from the tight line it was in. Carth sits down next to her with his knees pulled up, and he rests his arms on top of them as he tilts his head back. Like this, Revan can see the line of his neck, the way it stretches up into the scruffy beard that he's been growing since he first came to visit them. Her eyes trace up along his jaw, real and whole, and stops at his lips, feeling guilt burn as the memory of their kiss comes back to life.
"I'm sorry," she offers. It's the truth, and she knows that if anything, Carth will recognize that. If she can trust anything, it's that Carth will always listen to her when she's sorry.
"I just came to tell you that we'll be landing soon," he says back, but he closes his eyes for a moment. "No. Can I ask—why did you do it?"
"What?"
"If it didn't mean anything to you, why did you kiss me like that?" he clarifies, and this time he turns his head to face her.
Revan turns hers away.
To admit the truth feels...cruel. To lie to him feels cruel. Or, seen another way: what she did was cruel, and no explanation will be able to take that away. She presses her lips together, and too much time passes as she tries to think of an answer, until all that's left is, "I have these memories sometimes. They're like—I don't know. I suppose they're triggered by repeating certain...actions, but when I get them it's like I'm experiencing it for the first time."
Revan keeps her voice steady but the words feel stuck in her mouth. There's something mortifying about admitting to the man you kissed that you were thinking of someone else while you were kissing him.
"So you were just...remembering?"
She looks over at him. His expression is skeptical at best, and it almost makes her laugh. "Yeah, it was like kissing two people at once. That sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
"A little," he says, but he presses his lips together before continuing, "it's better than the alternative, I guess."
"That I can kiss you like that but still say no?"
"Something like that." Gratefully, his mouth bends into a small grin.
"I'm sorry, Carth," she says again. "I'm sorry for all of it. I wish things could be different for us, but this is what we have and I—I know I messed it up. And I know that I keep saying I don't want to hurt you, but I still mean it. I don't want this to come between us."
"It won't," he says, nodding. "For what it's worth, if that's the only time we kiss, then at least it was a hell of a good one."
Revan's mouth opens for a half second before it closes again. "How are you okay with this?"
"I don't know that I am. It just—doesn't seem as important right now. We'll be landing on Coruscant in few minutes, and I think at this point I'm more concerned about your safety than whether or not you want to kiss me."
She has to take a breath, letting her gaze unfocus as she sees past Carth and traces it over the flat gray of the wall. "Right."
"Come on, let's do one more landing for the books. I need my copilot."
His smile is warm and genuine and she doesn't deserve his kindness. And the part of her that wants to punish herself, the part that wants to push him away and make him angry? Well, she ignores it as she agrees, and pushes herself off of the floor. Her body's tired but she doesn't think that's going to matter much soon, and Carth doesn't touch her but he looks at her with a different kind of softness.
It's more than she deserves.
He leads the way out of the dorms, and the dark corridor floods his back with shadows before they step into the main hold. Revan's gaze travels up, and her heart drops when she sees Malak sitting in the same seat as before, his attention caught by the sound of them entering the room.
His expression falls as their eyes meet, and it feels a lot like the beginning. It feels like when the gray area between them felt impossible to cross, and she won't lie: it hurts. She doesn't know how she got to the point where he has the power to make her feel this way, but she's here and there's a certain kind of satisfaction in the pain.
"You go ahead," she says to Carth. "I'll catch up in a moment."
Carth looks at her like, are you sure?, but he passes her by and disappears towards the cockpit, leaving Revan alone with Malak.
He watches her openly, and the distance feels like too much between them. She'd wanted it earlier—she'd needed it—but right now all she wants is for him to put his arms around her, put his forehead against hers, and tell her that they'll be alright.
It's what she wants, but she knows it won't happen.
"I pushed," she admits, crossing her arms over her chest. "I took it too far. I shouldn't have, but I did."
Malak just raises his brows in response.
She takes a breath. "That's not how it should've gone. I don't want things to be like this with us. I'm just—frustrated, and tired, and scared. I took it out on you and I know it's not an excuse, but I need you to know where I'm at. I need you to know that I'm trying to push you away, but I don't want it to work."
When he still doesn't say anything, Revan shakes her head. "Malak, please."
Finally: "I know."
He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again, only to find her gaze. He doesn't look happy but he doesn't look upset. "I get it, Rev. Honestly, I do."
"Are you angry?" she asks, not for the first time.
But it brings out some kind of smile, something defeated, something not quite happy. "I don't know what I'm feeling right now. I'm sorry for showing you my jaw, though. It was a cheap shot."
She presses her lips together. "I deserved it."
"The thing is," he says, getting up. "A different version of you did—you deserved it more than anything, before—but as much as we keep arguing the same point, I don't think its fair to put that burden on you, when you have no memory of doing it."
Right. She is the one who did this, but she isn't. It's the same argument as earlier and Revan doesn't know which side she stands on now. She doesn't know how she can keep this for herself, take responsibility and own it, when she wouldn't have known without him telling her. All she has is the evidence of her actions and sometimes that's not enough.
"I want to deserve it," she admits.
"Why?"
Because I want this pain to mean something. She can't make herself say it. "You treat me differently because I don't remember."
Here he is: in front of her with all his height, with all his breadth. He stands there and watches her and she has to go, but she needs answers. Force, she needs answers and it feels like every time she talks to him she only gets more questions.
"I have to," he says back.
Revan swipes a hand over her forehead, trying to breathe, trying to figure out why her and Malak aren't on the same page right now. They're out of sync, fallen out of step, they can't seem to get it together and she has to go.
"We're gonna be landing in a minute," she says, and she can hear the flatness in her voice. "I told Carth I'd play copilot."
"Okay."
She watches him for a moment longer before turning, but his hand finds her arm, stopping her where she is. There's a look on his face, and she's begging her brain to understand this, but it's too messed up. This could be it and she's not doing this right.
"Revan," he says, and there's a hint of desperation in his voice. "It's not that I don't want you to know the truth, it's just...so hard to talk about."
Her whole chest aches and there's nothing she can do. She watches him and she wants to know it all, wants him to push past whatever's getting in the way, but she won't ask that of him and even if she would, there isn't time for it now.
"Okay," she says, gently pulling her arm out of his grip. "We'll—we'll figure it out."
Revan doesn't like the hurt on his face, sitting openly on his features. She doesn't like it but there isn't time for that, either. She turns and he doesn't stop her as she heads down the corridor, her footsteps quiet in comparison to the pounding of her heart.
Carth looks up as she enters the cockpit, a brow raised as he watches her sit down. "Everything alright?"
"Fine," she says, and flips a few switches. At this point, her hands know what to do more than her mind does and she lets them. She doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about anything at all.
Outside the viewport, Coruscant looms before them, all city towers and heights that look miniscule from up here. Some part of her knows that what she wants doesn't really matter right now—it might never have mattered, considering.
Considering she hasn't made a choice in this. The only thing she did was save Malak, and ever since then she's been letting it all slip through her fingers.
She only half listens as Carth communicates with the spaceport, her attention caught only by the authorities telling them they have to land in a specific, quarantined landing zone. Glancing over at Carth, they share a look before he confirms and they set course.
In hindsight, it's amazing that she's made it this far without this horrible sense of dread overcoming her. She can feel it in her hands, her stomach, even her eyes as she takes in the sight of the spaceport coming closer and closer. She thought she'd be happier to leave Kashyyyk, to go to a planet and feel that bright white warmth of the sun, but the truth is, she'd rather live in the dark than suffer in the light.
And maybe that's always been the case.
"Looks like we've got a greeting party," Carth observes as the ship touches down. Revan's gaze slides over the soldiers waiting outside the ship, and back to Carth. She can feel herself shutting down and it's not good. She needs to be alert, be wary, protect Malak as much as she can, but...this isn't a good start.
She unbuckles herself, getting up before Carth does, and heads back to the main hold. Malak's already up as well and he raises his brows when he catches sight of her. She doesn't know what she looks like right now, and she doesn't care.
"There's at least twenty Republic soldiers out there," she comments. It might be a warning, it might be something else. "I don't think they were expecting you to come here peacefully."
"I'm not surprised," he murmurs as Carth joins them. "We shouldn't keep them waiting."
She nods, but the moment the two men make a move, she speaks up. "Malak—"
He looks at her, but there's nothing else to say. They just...have to do this, even if she doesn't want to.
"I'll be okay," he says, and finally there's a break in his distant expression. There's something warmer there, and it's reassuring even though she knows he's preparing himself for the worst. "It'll be fine."
She doesn't believe him but it helps, so she won't argue. She nods again and this time when they move, she follows behind. It makes the most sense for Carth to leave first—a friendly face to go before them. Malak glances at her as they walk towards the exit of the ship, and when he returns his gaze ahead of him, he reaches his hand back. For a moment, for just a second, she laces her fingers through his and squeezes as hard as she can.
It helps.
Walking down the ramp is the first step. All Revan needs to do is walk down the ramp, and then she can face whatever problem comes next. She's too used to trying to figure it all out at once, and she's tired of trying to predict what she can't. None of them know what's coming, but all it takes is walking down the ramp to find out.
She's not prepared to see Master Zhar waiting with the Republic troop. Malak isn't either, given the way he stops, his eyes locking onto his former master. Revan doesn't normally sense him through the Force, but in this moment it's impossible to miss all the fear, all the shame, all the grief that radiates from him.
His next steps are slow, but she's beside him as they approach Zhar, and the twi'lek's face is carefully blank. His expression is neutral but his eyes give him away—they're just as full of emotion as Malak's, and Revan doesn't know what to do. She doesn't understand the history between them, only the stories that Malak's told her.
But from what she gathers, Malak's known Zhar longer than he's known her, and it might be enough to break him.
It's tense, standing in the complete silence of the landing pad—the only sound comes from the distant speeders and the hum of the city. The soldiers' blasters aren't aimed at them, but Revan knows it would take just the slightest hint of aggression to push them into action. It wouldn't take much at all—they're on a precipice and it keeps getting smaller and smaller.
"I'm glad you're here," Master Zhar finally says. A sad smile fits onto his lips as he looks at Malak. Malak just nods, but he glances at Revan instead of saying anything. She can't understand the depth of his sadness, right there in his blue eyes. He looks at her and then he looks away and Revan's chest feels strange with how hard her heart is pounding.
She takes a small step forward, her body overlapping Malak's as she stands slightly in front of him. "I assume we'll be heading to the Temple."
It takes a while for Zhar's gaze to slide over to her instead of Malak, who watches the ground with a hard stare. But Zhar nods as he regards her. "Yes, there's a speeder waiting to take us over. You'll both be seeing the Council immediately."
She nods, but Malak still won't look at either of them. Zhar goes on to say, "I'm sorry it has to be like this."
She thinks he means all that's happened—everything from their time as children to the way they turned their backs on the Jedi. She thinks it might be the fact that they brainwashed her, told her to kill the one person who truly meant something to her in life. It might be because Malak's back, that he's standing here in front of his old master, here in peace after years of being an enemy they couldn't have predicted.
But that's not it.
Master Zhar gestures to a couple of soldiers, who move quickly as they come forward. They go to Malak, and he doesn't even flinch as they bind his wrists. He looks up at Zhar first, then to Revan, and all the fear, all the grief is open on his face—
But it doesn't compare to the look that comes over him when they place bindings on Revan's wrists next.
"What are you doing?" That's Carth, pushing through the crowd. He looks panicked, all wide brown eyes and parted lips. "Let her go!"
"Carth—" she starts, and there's some resignation in her voice. She bites down against the buzzing that flows through her body, suppressing the Force within her. What did she expect? Why fight it now when that would only make everything worse?
Zhar shakes his head, and she'd like to believe that there's regret in his eyes. "It's just to be safe. We'll take them off at the Temple."
Carth looks like he's about to argue, but the troopers move, separating him from the three Jedi as Zhar leads them through the crowd. All the while the sun shines down, glancing off the windows of the city towers. Revan squints against it, conscious of Malak's presence by her side as they follow Master Zhar. There are several ships waiting—an escort, probably—and it's the most Revan's ever felt like a criminal.
She wonders if this is it: the punishment to fit the crime.
And what a crime it is.
Revan sits next to Malak in the speeder, and she tries not to focus on the feeling of her wrists locked in place or the weird, empty feeling it gives her. Her eyes are glued to the window, watching the city towers rush by in blurred lines. This is a place she once knew, according to Malak. This place used to be familiar. Now it's something else.
His knee rests against hers for the duration of the ride, solid and pressing and familiar in its own way. It's a reminder that he's there, even if nothing else is certain, and Revan can't seem to look at him, not if this is going to be the last time.
If this is it—well, maybe it would've been more compassionate to kill him on the Star Forge.
But she doesn't want to think like that. She doesn't want to believe that the Jedi wouldn't show him mercy. Part of her thinks they'll be more angry at her than at him, and she'd be glad for it. For him, she would. For him she would do anything to prevent any further suffering, to prevent him from being punished for something that was her fault in the first place.
What is she thinking? When did she decide that she'd sacrifice her happiness for his? He was just a story to her back on Taris, and now he sits beside her, and protecting him is the only thing that matters.
Zhar sits on the other side and she can sense him taking little glances at them now and then. All she knows are Malak's stories, how the two of them trained under Zhar together. How he watched over her after her master betrayed her, how he took them around the galaxy, and now he sits with the two of them in chains.
This is what she's done, by turning against the Republic, turning against the Jedi.
It had to have been worth it, she thinks to herself. She hopes, at least, that she wouldn't ruin everything based on her selfish desire for the dark side.
You were seeing a future I wasn't, Malak said. She had to have known the price she was willing to pay. She had to have had a plan for it all, and somewhere in the back of her mind the words go back, still resound. She doesn't understand it. Doesn't understand how it's come this far, or how a former threat could be so big that she'd risk all of this to fight it.
It can still be worth it, her mother says, which scares her more than anything else. It's not a thought she wants to chase.
The temple itself is grander than she would have thought. Having only been to the Enclave on Dantooine, she hadn't expected such an imposing building. She can't help but marvel at it—its size dominates the area, even for a place such as Coruscant, and it's lined in gold, with grand arches and statues of figures she doesn't recognize.
And then the speeder slows to a stop, and she finally looks back at Malak. His eyes find hers and there's nothing neither of them can do right now, so she offers a tight-lipped smile and shakes her head.
They follow behind Zhar once more, with soldiers surrounding them on either side. Her and Malak, together once again. Even if she doesn't remember him, it feels right. It's where they're supposed to be. From his stories, she knows that every time they've been separated, they've come back together.
Despite everything, they're here, still together. Always together. Then—not at all.
"We'll be talking to you separately," Zhar explains, stopping outside of what she assumes are the Council chamber doors. Zhar turns to Malak. "You'll be first."
There's some kind of panicked response in Revan's chest, and her wrists ache when she tries to reach for him. Her rational mind isn't working. All she can think is, this is it, I'm going to lose him, and she wants to yell out after him, have him come back to her one last time, but all she does is watch him go.
He doesn't look back.
She's left with the troopers, and she scowls at the ones who stare at her openly. Her breathing doesn't feel right—it comes too quickly and she needs it to slow down. Leaning against one of the pillars, she lets the solid weight of it ground her as much as it can. She lets her entire back press against it, trying to take its support as she focuses on calming herself.
Through this entire thing, from saving Malak to this moment, she thinks this might be the most afraid she's felt. This is where it's pivotal, and it feels dangerous because she can't predict how the Council's going to react. She tries to reassure herself. She tries to remember Jolee's words: They'll show him mercy, even if it's the last thing they want to do.
She just doesn't know if it's enough.
Time stretches out, and Revan wishes there was someone with her instead of the silence of blasters ready to aim. She wishes she had something to distract herself because all her mind does is go over every scenario in which it all goes wrong.
She ends up sitting on the floor, staring at the looping patterns of the burgundy carpet below her, and it's a long time before she hears the sound of a comm buzzing. Her head lifts and she gets up, but the soldiers form a barricade, lining up to block her from the door. It opens with a loud sound and Revan's stuck, her head moves side to side, trying to see around them, trying to catch a glimpse of Malak being led away. He's going in the opposite direction, away from where they first came in, and she has no idea where it leads.
"Malak!" she shouts, and his head turns enough to meet her gaze, but there's a hand on his arm and it lasts only a split second. Just a split second of seeing him and then he's gone.
Stay calm, her mother warns her, which she needs. Her hands are shaking with an emotion she can't name—something wild, trapped and desperate, and it's not enough to stand here quietly. Don't show them your fear.
Malak's gone. She takes a breath. The door to the chambers is still open and Zhar stands in the entry. The soldiers make a way for her to enter when all she wants to do is go after Malak, find out what happened, and get out of here.
But that doesn't matter right now. She walks to the Council chambers and meets Zhar's eyes for a split second before turning her attention to the room. There's nothing reassuring in them.
The chambers themselves are just as grand as the rest of the temple—moreso, perhaps. The room is circular, surrounded by arches that loom over them, and when Revan looks up, it feels like looking up into the wroshyr trees. There are six Council members in the room, but Revan only recognizes Zhar, Vrook, and Vandar. There are two women this time, one with long dark hair and kind eyes, the other with white hair and the coldest expression Revan's ever seen.
The third she doesn't recognize is a man, and he's leaning forward in his chair, his gaze intent.
She stands in the center of the room, surrounded by them, and feels their judgment cover over her. It's what she imagines it'd be like to be a child, to go before your parents and admit what you've done wrong. It'd be easier if that's all she had to do. Parents are supposed to love you unconditionally; the Jedi have never made her any promises.
"We open this meeting with a chance for you to explain your actions," Vrook begins. "And that is more clemency than you deserve."
Don't ask about Malak, she reminds herself. The question is just under her tongue, ready to come to life, but she won't do it. She won't show them that she cares. "I was faced with a decision on the Star Forge: to spare Malak's life or end it. He'd shown regret for his actions, and as a Jedi I felt as though I could not kill him."
The woman in white's face scrunches up. "As a Jedi, you should've known how dangerous it is to spare an enemy. Regret or not, he'd waged a war that killed millions. Your war, Revan."
"Master Atris," Zhar interrupts.
"No, she's right," Revan says. This is the first time she's meeting with them with the knowledge that she's Revan, so it's strange to openly acknowledge it, but this is a war as well. This is where she fights to make things right, and if she can't do that, it's both her and Malak's lives that are on the line. "It was my war. I may not remember it, but I don't deny what I've done. Killing Malak wouldn't have made it right. It wouldn't change what we did, but I have to believe that if I was given a second chance, then so should he."
The man she doesn't recognize pushes a hand through his curly hair, not quite looking at her until he leans back in his seat. "Do you feel guilty that he took the blame for your actions?"
"I didn't save him because of my guilt, if that's what you're asking."
"And yet you don't deny it," he argues. There's something uncomfortable about him knowing her, without her knowing him. He speaks with a familiarity that he shouldn't have, and it feels dangerous to argue with that.
"Master, I don't even know your name, so I don't know what you expect from me. I don't deny my guilt, but I fail to see how this matters, now."
The woman called Atris grins. It's wolfish and unappealing and it doesn't fit the frown that sits permanently in her eyes. "Such defiance, still. Even without your memories, you are plagued by the past. You're still sick with the power that influenced thousands of Jedi, but you don't understand it. You don't know what you've done, but you know that you've done it."
"And what of it?" Revan asks. "I can't do anything about it and yet I'm tormented by it. Do you think it's been easy? There's no immunity from the pain of knowing what I've done, just because I don't remember. It's a constant weight on my mind."
It's what she's been trying to tell Malak. Maybe some part of her thinks that if she remembered it'd be easier to bear. If she remembered, perhaps she could find actual healing from it. If she understood why she did what she did, if she could forgive herself, then maybe she could move on. But no—the knowledge is there, and it's pressing, and all she has are the consequences.
Unsurprisingly, her answer doesn't satisfy Atris. "That is hardly different from your state before the war. You've never been equipped to handle tragedy, so you created your own. Forgive me if I don't bow down to you in mercy, for you still don't deserve it."
You're a Jedi, is all Revan can think. She has no other response. There is more emotion and anger in this woman than Revan has seen in the others, and she wonders how the Council ignores it. Is it because of Revan herself? Does everyone get a free pass to hate her, just because she's earned it?
It's Master Zhar who defends her. "That is neither here nor there, Master Atris. We've gathered here to discuss Malak, not Revan's past."
"Which leads to our next point," says Vrook. "Why did you hide him from the Council?"
But Revan's been expecting this one. "I needed time."
"For what, exactly?"
"Time to process," she says, and her gaze unfocuses as she stares at the tiled floor. "It's been a long year, and I never had the chance to allow myself time to process my...situation. I regret hiding him from you, but had I informed the Council, I wouldn't have had the chance to learn from it."
When she looks up, Zhar smiles at her, and she wonders if he knows where she's going with this. "What do you mean?"
"I didn't want to rush into a decision," she clarifies. "I wanted to take time to consider what had happened, especially with Malak. I didn't fear him. He's been...resigned, and quiet. He was very weak after the destruction of the Star Forge, especially without his connection to the Force. From my point of view, the threat that you sent me after had been quashed, and I needed time to figure out my next step."
"I think we can consider that fair," the other woman she doesn't recognize says, and when Revan looks up, she offers her a smile. "Lonna Vash. Concealing the truth from you was not a popular idea, but a necessary one. In my opinion, you've done well considering what's been handed to you. As a Council, we're trying to figure out the best way to move forward given the information we have."
"Given the information we have..." Vrook grumbles. "The two of them have done more damage than they could ever make up for, and Revan's actions have shouted far louder than her words here today."
"But we cannot decide with emotion," Vandar continues. "And there is much to decide."
Revan's gaze wanders from Jedi to Jedi, watching them all share glances and knowing looks. Each person has a different reason to be angry with her, to hate her, and somewhere in the past she had just the same with them.
"What are you doing with Malak?" she asks, despite her better judgment.
"The same thing we should do with you," Vrook answers, and he shakes his head a little bit to himself. There's something familiar about his soft wrinkled face that goes beyond her time on Dantooine, but it still doesn't have any meaning. "As a Council, we have chosen to offer him help. However, considering his past, he will remain in a quarantined section of the Enclave, here on Coruscant. He will remain under observation for as long as we need to determine our next course of action."
"You will be free to come and go," Zhar continues, "but your time here will be monitored as well, and we cannot allow you to freely visit with Malak until we are certain that he is not a threat. Despite many words shared here today, we view your decision to save him as one of mercy, not of aggression or malice. You've done well following your Jedi teachings, as short as your time on Dantooine was."
Revan's numb to the relief that falls over her, but she knows it's there. Her breathing eases and her hands stop shaking, but she knows it isn't over. She knows it's more precarious than they're letting on.
"Thank you, Masters."
It takes a while longer for them to let her go.
She's answered their questions, she's defended her choices. She feels sick with how tired she is. When they dismiss her, she bows before them and turns without looking back, the high arches of the room still stuck in her peripheral vision.
"Revan!"
She's outside the chambers when she hears his voice call after her. The room is empty now, free from the Republic soldiers, and when she turns, it's the master that she doesn't recognize who joins her in the open room.
"Hello again," she says, wary—considering it's only been a moment since he had the opportunity to speak to her.
He nods, and there's something hurried about his appearance. Like he's just thrown himself together, and he stands at about the same height as her, so when he meets her gaze it feels too close. "I'm Kavar. You, um, said you didn't know my name, so."
Oh, right. Malak's spoken of him several times over the past few days. She cycles through what she knows about him: Malak trained with him here on Coruscant. He was the one who was supposed to go to war instead of her. Malak called him a coward, said that Kavar broke his faith in the Jedi.
Revan squares her shoulders. "Then I suppose we've already met."
"We have," he says, nodding. "I'd even say that I once considered us friends."
That's not what he was saying in the Council Chambers. "You think I should feel guilty for what I've done to Malak."
A strange smile fits itself onto his lips, almost as though he wanted her to ask that. "No. I'm not foolish enough to blame you for his choices. He made his decision to follow you, and beyond that, he chose to take up the mantle of Sith Lord when you died."
She narrows her eyes. "And yet?"
"And yet, I don't think he would've made the same choices if you weren't the one offering them to him."
"You mean, if I hadn't been the one who went to war?"
This time he looks away, and for a moment all Revan feels is anger towards him. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to insinuate..."
"Then what can I do for you, Master?"
"Nothing. I...I wanted to thank you," he says. "Saving Malak wasn't the obvious choice, but you still made it. He was a good kid. This never should have happened to him."
All Revan can do is smile. It's funny how even though she's supposedly the one who was redeemed, it's Malak who they all actually want back. Malak's redemption would mean something, because he's choosing it for himself. For the most part, she agrees with them. She knows that as much as he made the choice to stand with her, it's her fault for offering it to him, for being the one who left for war.
"No, it shouldn't have happened to him," she murmurs. There's movement in the corner of Revan's eye, and when she glances over, it's Juhani waiting against the pillar opposite of them. "But for the record I agree with you, Master Kavar. You can't imagine the guilt that I feel. Excuse me."
She leaves him behind, turning on her heel and hurrying over to her friend. Juhani's wearing a loose brown robe, her hair longer than the last time she saw her, and when Revan draws closer, she opens her arms and embraces her immediately.
It allows Revan to take a breath. To focus on something other than the whirling chaos of her life. She breathes long and deep and when she pulls back, Juhani's wide eyes watch her carefully. There's a small smile on her lips, though, and she says, "It's so good to see you again."
"I missed you," is all Revan has right now. "Do you want to get out of here?"
"Of course," Juhani says, nodding down the hall. They walk through the temple arm in arm, through each grand room Revan was too anxious to pay attention to earlier. Her mind wants to worry about Malak, it wants to worry about herself, but she forces the thoughts down. Instead she focuses on the warmth of Juhani beside her, the familiarity of her presence.
"We should go see Mission," she's saying. "We heard of your arrival last night and asked the Council if it'd be alright if you stayed in our apartment."
Revan raises a brow. "What did they say?"
"They said they'd need to speak to you first, but I was informed just now that it'd be alright. I believe the Council's putting more and more trust in me."
"As they should," she says. "You and Mission share an apartment?"
"Yes," says Juhani, the hint of a laugh in her voice. "No one wanted her to live by herself, not even Mission. I figured that since we'd become so close in our time together, that it would make the most sense for us to share. She asked for my help in decorating but I'm afraid I have little skill in that area. Us Jedi are not meant to have possessions, and I have never been taught to look at such designs critically."
Revan smiles, grateful for the distraction. "I don't think I'd know where to begin, myself."
"She's done well, though. Every day I forget that she's just sixteen years old."
"The past year's changed her," Revan remarks as they approach the landing pad. "But she's always had to grow up faster than she should."
Juhani smiles. "You're good for her."
"You're better."
She gives Revan a look, something that says, that's not possible, but doesn't argue any further. The two of them get in a taxi and Revan listens as Juhani rattles off an address, the Temple looming over them and then gone in the rearview.
Malak left behind in the rearview.
"You have to tell me everything, okay? Three weeks was too long to go without seeing you. What happened? Did Malak talk to you at all? Does he still hate you? Did you figure out if you hate him or not? How's Jolee? What did Carth say when he showed up? What did the Council say? Please tell me you're not in big trouble."
Revan laughs as Mission rattles off her questions, offering her reassurance as her eyes scan the modest apartment. Juhani was right, there aren't many personal touches here, just a bottle of Tarisian Ale on one of the shelves, next to a framed photo of Mission and Zaalbar. It's cute, though, and the furniture is bright. It's late enough that the lights are on, which gives it a cozy appearance even with the city still alive beyond the windows.
They end up on the couch, and Revan explains as much as she can to them. It's easier to talk about her unexpected friendship with Malak than she thought, and she finds herself grinning as she mentions Jolee's mystery novels. Her whole heart wishes she could be back in that moment, to sit by his side in the peace of the evening, stealing glances at him between chapters.
She doesn't talk about sleeping beside him, doesn't mention the kiss she shared with Carth. She tries to keep it light, keep it reassuring.
"As far as I know," she finishes, "he'll be safe here. The Council wants to help him, so I'm trying not to worry about it. I just—I don't know. It's harder than I thought it would be."
Juhani and Mission look at her with matching bewildered expressions, and Revan can't help but laugh. "What?"
"When we left, you two wouldn't even talk to each other," Mission says. "This is big. You actually care about him."
"I do," Revan confirms in a soft voice, remarking at how fast it turned around for them. It was so easy to be close to him, to lean into that familiarity, and the idea makes her all the more upset at herself for trying to tear it apart at the end. "Anyway. How have things been here?"
Juhani fills her in for the most part, with a few interjections from Mission. It's mostly work within the Jedi, trying to move on and get used to life after the Star Forge. Mission blushes deep blue when Revan asks about Dustil, but she doesn't push. Instead she asks, "How's Bastila?"
"Recovering," Juhani says. "It was...difficult at first, but I know too well the dangers of the dark side, and I've been helping as much as I can."
Mission nods with wide eyes. "It's weird to see her act so differently. She actually came to us first, before telling the Council about you and Malak. You could tell she really didn't want to hurt you, but she was struggling. I felt so bad."
"I don't blame her for what she did," Revan says, wishing she could manage it all. She wishes she could take care of each and every one of them, and the guilt of letting Bastila down burns just as deep as her other failures. "I'd like to see her, though."
"She's been working in another sector," Juhani says. "She knows of your arrival, and should be back soon. I think she's eager to see you."
Revan nods, not knowing what to expect from the following few days. She imagines there are many people she needs to talk to, many things to make right, and part of her wishes she could be back on Kashyyyk with Jolee and Malak, talking late into the evening around the kitchen table.
But it's nice to be here, and the three women take a little while longer to catch up before heading to bed. Mission and Juhani set her up on the couch, apologizing for the lack of a guest room, but Revan doesn't mind one bit.
It's not until she's alone in the living room with the lights off, that it all catches up with her. This whole day, from being put in handcuffs to watching Malak leave. From her separation from Carth to her reunion with Mission and Juhani.
As tired as she is, she stays awake. The city lights burn a hole through the window, it's blue and gold light that floods over her, and she wonders what Malak's doing right now. She wonders if he feels safe, if he's being watched, if he's able to sleep.
She wonders if he's thinking about her.
And maybe she doesn't sleep. It's hard to tell as the restless hours drift by, but she watches the lines of the towers and listens to the sounds of the city, imagining him next to her the entire time.