"Your turn."

Dustil barely caught the datapad Tova tossed towards him. He passed it between his hands for a moment before leaning towards the console and typing in his guess.

"Unknown Regions"

ERROR: INVALID CODE.

"No good," he murmured, tossing the datapad back to Tova.

Akiva Vin's last level of archives was making opening the last couple look easy. His brain felt like the innards of a tauntaun.

Tova pushed herself up on her elbows from where she lay on the floor of Akiva Vin's study.

"Isn't there some kind of trick you can use to figure it out? Don't you Jedi have powers and methods for reaching out and sensing things or something?"

He rolled his eyes at her.

"If I could just pull your grandfather's codes out of thin air, don't you think I would have done it by now?"

"Not if you were trying to frustrate me."

"I know better ways to frustrate a girl."

Tova smirked. "I'd believe it."

Dustil crawled down to the floor to lay next to her, folding his hands behind his head.

"Jedi don't control the Force. I can't tell it what to do. I can search for the answer, but it's not just going to come because I call it."

"Well, try," Tova pressed, rolling over and leaning over him.

Dustil closed his eyes, scrunching up his face in mock concentration and making loud groaning noises.

"Dustil," his host's daughter said, annoyed. She jostled him, her blond hair leaning over her shoulders and tickling his chin.

"All right, all right," he replied, laughing.

So there are supposedly true Sith, ancient Sith somewhere in the Unknown Regions of the galaxy. Supposedly they're giving orders to the Sith on Chael. Supposedly they've had their hands in everything from the Mandalorian Wars to these latest Jedi Civil Wars-

Tova rested her head on his chest, letting an arm creep around his waist. Dustil cracked one eyelid open.

"You know, you're making it hard to concentrate."

He felt her smile against his shoulder.

"I thought Jedi were supposed to be able to shut out the rest of the world and find inner peace."

"Inner peace is about the last thing on my mind right now." He hadn't thought he could fall back into the role of roguish young flirt so easily- He had been playing the stoic Jedi Knight for so long he thought he had forgotten.

His archives so far have revealed their history on the planet, and their identity; the how and the who. So what's left? They haven't sought out Jedi to kill- all the Jedi have just wandered into their grasp. What is it that they want if not to assassinate Jedi?

Tova's fingers idly played with the belt hook of his lightsaber.

"Uh oh. I think you're compromising your journalistic integrity in this position, Miss Vin."

His host's daughter sat up.

"Then you'd better answer my questions completely and honestly, Jedi Onasi, so we can avoid any assumptions about our professional relationship."

He watched the dreamy look that had just been on her face harden and smooth into the impenetrable gaze of an investigator.

"What brought you to Chael, especially in the midst of such danger to the Jedi Order?"

"The Bothans I told you about called us. They wanted our help in getting the hostages and the stolen information back."

Tova raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

As much as he liked her, as much as he didn't want to incur her wrath, as much as he was willing to tell her the truth and trust her with his secrets now, there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to tell her that the former Dark Lord Revan was his master. He knew the rules about mentioning her. Never say her real name. Never mention that she was one of the Star Forge Jedi. Never mention that she was involved with Admiral Carth Onasi.

And if you're going to mention her to anyone, he added to himself, for Force's sake don't let it be an intelligent and intrepid journalist.

"My master." He kept his voice carefully nonchalant, like it was standard Jedi procedure not to give your master a name. "She left to go rally more Jedi. She and I couldn't take on these Sith by ourselves, especially once I injured my arm."

Tova prodded his upper arm as if testing his theory.

"What does your father think about you being a Jedi?"

"He's proud, mostly. He worries about me a lot; maybe too much."

Jedi don't relish their father's worries, he chided. Jedi don't take guilty pleasure in the fact that their fathers will do anything if it means they'll never lose you again.

"The HoloNet had a lot of unconfirmed rumors about Admiral Onasi and the Jedi." She looked at him pointedly.

Dustil sighed. "I try not to think about my father's love life-"

"The rest of the galaxy doesn't share your disinterest. Who did he remarry? Who's the one who's going to have your step-sibling?"

"My master," he muttered under his breath.

Tova broke character for a moment, giggling.

"Oh. That must be…awkward."

"You're telling me."

"I thought Jedi weren't supposed to get married or have children. I thought they were supposed to devote their lives to the Order."

Dustil laughed. "I'm breaking about ten rules of the Order right now, Miss Vin. And I have to say, I'm pretty happy about it."

He let his hands touch her cheeks, playing with her hair. Her own hands still hovered around his lightsaber, where it hung from his side half touching the ground.

"Why is your lightsaber red?" His hands froze.

"Only Sith carry red ones," Tova continued. "I know you didn't make that up. Is it part of a disguise? Because that would actually be a pretty good idea."

He wondered when would be an appropriate time to tell her. Or any girl, for that matter. After dating for a while? After getting engaged? After marriage, after children, after they were both so old that it wouldn't matter anymore?

He wondered if he would ever tell her.

"It's to remind me of how easily I could become a Sith. To remind me that I can't ever let anger or hatred control me."

All it would take to make it the truth would be adding 'again' to the ends of both sentences. But he wasn't ready to tell her that he had once been a Sith, that he had once let anger and hatred consume him, control him, own him.

He wasn't ready to tell her that the fact he could never let himself change the color of his lightsaber shamed him more than anything else.

His answer seemed to satisfy her. Tova lay back down on top of him, and he closed his eyes and tried to get his mind off of how nice the weight of her head was.

He said…he said that we gave the ancient Sith their power, that we gave them life. Who's 'we'? 'We' must be the Jedi. So what does that mean? Ancient Jedi met ancient Sith, taught them about the Force, and that created Dark Jedi. So…so…

Dustil furrowed his brow in concentration.

So what is their goal? Say it was something incredibly lofty, like taking over the galaxy; something that might have prompted their supposed involvement in major political events up until now. What's the greatest weapon they could possibly harness to do that?

He suddenly leapt up from the floor, Tova slipping clumsily off of him as he quickly went to the console and typed in his guess.

"Conversion"

ACCESS GRANTED.

Dustil fell back in the chair, running his hands through his hair and letting out a groan of relief.

"You think these Sith are trying to convert Jedi instead of kill them?" Tova murmured, getting up and leaning over the computer; apparently not offended that he had knocked her off of him.

"Maybe, although it doesn't make sense from a Sith standpoint. All they're interested in is outdoing each other. Superiority at any cost. Sharing secrets isn't the way to get ahead."

Did they even try to convert Akiva and his predecessors? They might have, and then killed them for their refusal to turn. Or maybe they just got too close to the truth, and they were deemed unworthy.

Revan would nod approvingly. Her stomach was probably as big as a Hutt's by now.

Okay, Master. I think I can get you up to speed reasonably well. The Sith in the caves are taking orders from ancient Sith that aren't extinct after all. They're somewhere in the Unknown Regions and their goal isn't to assassinate the Jedi like all the Sith wannabes around now; they want to turn them all to the dark side.

Why? Revan would ask, irritated. Completely ignoring all the work he had done, as usual.

They might have somehow spurred the Mandalorian Wars, Dustil would add, trying to distract her.

How? This time, the voice in his head was Juhani.

I'm trying, Master, he replied, sighing. He could almost see the Cathar smile gently.

Do not overexert yourself trying to find all the answers, Dustil. Some legacies must be discovered by those who started them. She will accept responsibility for what she's done.

He frowned, grasping vaguely for Juhani, whose presence wavered in the air like the barely discernable scent of perfume.

'She'? Master Juhani, what are you talking about?

But the Cathar was gone.

"Are you all right?" Tova murmured, grasping his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dustil replied, shaking his head. "Just hearing voices."

"Sometimes I can hear Force-users that are long dead," he explained. "Sometimes ones that are alive call out to me and I can hear them too. It's all part of the Force. We sometimes hear things we wouldn't have otherwise known."

"Do all Jedi hear voices?"

"Only the terribly handsome ones."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You're having a field day with this, aren't you?"

Pretty much.

"Sorry," Dustil added sheepishly, standing up and stretching. "Look, Tova, I don't expect you to…what I mean is, I'm not going to stay on Chael-"

"I'm not staying on Chael either," his host's daughter pointed out.

"I'm just trying to enjoy this while it lasts."

Tova scoffed, putting one hand on her hip and the other on the computer console, her fingernails tapping loudly against it.

"Do all Jedi give up that easily?"

"When they've been down this road before. When they've seen where it leads."

Selene, cold and dead and decomposed somewhere on Korriban.

He could still remember the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when his father had read Master Uthar's journal to him, could still remember wanting to tell him to stop, that he didn't want to hear anymore.

He could still remember amid his father's triumphant voice, his merciless recitation; he could still remember realizing that by loving Selene, he had killed her.

"Where does it lead?" Tova demanded.

But…that was the Sith. This, this is different.

Weak justification or not, it didn't stop Dustil from taking her hands as she moved willingly into his arms.

Tova looked up at him.

"I thought the Jedi weren't supposed to give in to their passions," she teased. "Doesn't that Code of yours go, 'There is no emotion, there is peace'?"

"Yeah, well, that Code of ours doesn't say anything about beautiful girls in our arms."

He leaned in to kiss her, and for a moment forgot about Akiva Vin and the Sith on Chael and Revan's impending return. He forgot he was a Jedi Knight and forgot that he still had a load of archives to go through.

This is what I was supposed to do when I was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. I wasn't supposed to be hitchhiking around the galaxy with a blaster and a vibroblade at my side. I wasn't supposed to join the Sith or contemplate patricide-

Tova broke violently off from him. He grasped her waist, wondering what had startled her. He had forgotten everything.

"Dustil?"

He had forgotten to lock the door too.

Jaron Vin stood in the doorway, his hand calmly grasping the frame, the look on his face completely inscrutable. His briefcase sat by his feet, and he still wore his coat. His host must have just arrived home from work and gone straight to find him. Dustil idly wondered what it was that Vin had needed to tell him so immediately.

"I would ask for an explanation," His voice was completely level, and Dustil also wondered where he was hiding the anger and outrage that his host must have been feeling. "But I think the story is somewhat clear."

He tried to reach out and sense what Vin was thinking, but he couldn't feel anything but Tova; her irritation at having been discovered and not having been more careful, her fear of what might happen to everything she dreamed of now that her father had discovered them.

He found no regret in her, and that made him feel a little better.

Dustil let himself take a quick breath. Tova's lower lip trembled, and he vaguely pulled on the skin around her elbow.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll fix it."

Force, don't let me have forgotten how to do this, he thought desperately, breaking contact with Tova and approaching Vin.

"Jaron," he began slowly.

Keep all emotion out of your voice, keep it clear and concise, keep it easy to remember.

"You didn't see anything."

Never break eye contact or it won't work. You must appear as though you believe completely what you're saying, or else they won't believe it either.

"You want to go and take a rest. You won't remember any of this. It's only a dream."

Vin stared blankly at him.

"I didn't see anything," he finally replied in a bland monotone. "I want to go and take a rest. I won't remember any of this. It's only a dream."

Like one of the walking dead, he turned and padded back down the hall to wherever he had come from, closing the door behind him.

Dustil exhaled; sweat suddenly running down his temples. Tova didn't waste any time. She hurriedly gathered up her datapads.

"Tova…" he said weakly, barely trying to stop her as she slipped past him and out the door without another word.

He sighed, sitting back down in front of the console.

Things weren't supposed to be going like this.

What other way did you expect them to go, Onasi? He thought; punching the computer controls savagely.

"Why do you disturb me, Dustil?"

It wasn't wise to bother Master Uthar. It was especially stupid to bother him when he was busy. It was suicidal to go to his quarters late at night and wake him up.

Thus, Dustil was having a hard time understanding why he was standing here in front of the annoyed Sith headmaster when it was technically very early in the morning.

I wouldn't have been this dumb, I never did this…It slowly began to dawn on him that this was not a memory; this was a vision.

Although why he was consulting Master Uthar, out of all people, he didn't know.

His former Sith master smiled thinly. "You do not wish to see me in your dreams, do you?"

"Not particularly," Dustil replied tightly, unable to be at ease even now, when he knew the Academy headmaster was dead and couldn't punish him anymore.

"You disappoint me. You were my most promising student, after all."

Until Revan came along, Dustil thought.

Uthar smiled again. It made the young Jedi Knight shiver.

He had seen it before, when he had first come to the Academy and Uthar had goaded him over his surname.

"Your father would be proud, wouldn't he?" The other students who had happened to be in the central chambers had laughed cruelly. Later Dustil would learn that it was a nervous kind of laughter, one you forced out of your stomach and up through your throat, hoping it would save you from death.

"I don't have a father," he replied automatically.

"Denial will not help you here, boy. Denial is for the weak." Uthar had stepped towards him. Physically he was not very intimidating- barely taller than Dustil, pale and graceful in his movements.

But in that moment, Dustil had felt more afraid than he ever had in his life.

"You deny because you despise. Embrace it. Take hold of your hatred and let it give you the strength you desire."

Now Dustil looked at him and saw a bitter, defeated, aging bald man.

Uthar laughed, low and seductive.

"Yes, indeed. Until Revan came along. If I had only known, I might have rallied the whole Academy against her sooner. You would have been welcome in the onslaught. I would have even allowed you the privilege of striking down your father-"

"Look, I didn't choose to imagine you, and I'm sure you'd rather be off wallowing in your own filth or some equally horrible afterlife. So why don't you spare me and just answer my questions?"

I wouldn't have been this dumb. I never did this. Dustil wasn't entirely sure if this kind of response would have earned him death or a promotion.

That was the way of the Sith; they drew you in until you didn't know the difference between good and evil. And you knew you were completely lost when you found that you didn't care.

"Certainly," Uthar replied smoothly. "You seek true Sith. These beings far surpass the pathetic efforts of you, me, or even your legendary master. You are a fool if you think you can defeat them-"

"What do they want?"

"They come from regions unexplored by the Republic. They desire what every Sith desires."

"You were never this vague in life, Master," Dustil snapped.

"In life I never had pathetic Jedi Knights begging me for answers- only for their lives," Uthar suddenly snarled.

"Ask your master about these beings. She would know far more than I." He laughed again. "As for what they want- you'll find out soon enough, my former pupil."

He woke up in a cold sweat, curled up in a ball in the corner of Akiva Vin's archives.

Dustil shivered, wrapping himself up in his robes, breathing and finding that he could barely see his breath in the moonlight.

He felt edgy, half asleep and half awake. He felt itchy and uncomfortable. He felt guilty.

For a second he wished Tova was here like she had been many other nights. That only made him feel more guilty.

The Vin home felt horrible now. Stifled, unnaturally quiet, and dead; much like Grandfather Akiva.

At least Jaron doesn't know, he reminded himself drowsily, remembering his successful Force Persuasion earlier.

But if he expected this thing with Tova to…go anywhere, Jaron Vin would have to find out eventually. Better sooner than later.

I need to stop lying. To everyone. Dustil sat up, trying to work out the kink in his shoulder and heading for the door.

Vin would probably be annoyed at being woken up- Well, no he wouldn't. He liked Dustil and would probably be more concerned at why the young Jedi Knight looked so tired.

Stop feeling guilty, he told himself. You're going to tell him, and if he kicks you out, you'll go back to the city center.

And never see Tova again.

Dustil sighed, wandering down the hallway and looking for Jaron Vin's room. It wasn't far from the archives, though set off in the corner of the house, like its construction had been an afterthought.

And if Revan's angry…

Well, let her be angry, he thought, clenching his jaw together. She would be a hypocrite if she was.

Dustil knocked firmly on Vin's door. No answer.

He tried again.

"You're a little late." The voice came from behind, not within. He whirled around, hand ready to reach for his lightsaber, but he forced it to hover at his side.

Jaron Vin stood before him.

"I know…I'm sorry about the hour, I just-"

"No," Vin's voice was hard, sharp, business-like. "I meant you're a little late for what you're here to do."

He shivered again, like he had in front of Uthar.

"You mean…you know what I am?"

"I know what you are." The monotone was very familiar; Dustil had heard it only hours ago when he had-

When he had thought he had successfully persuaded Vin that he hadn't seen Dustil kissing his daughter.

"For the record, Dustil, I wouldn't have minded you dating my daughter," Vin continued in that same administrative tone. "You're a very bright and talented young man. I might have asked you to wait until your investigation was over, but after that, you would have had my blessing."

He paused, moving to study a painting hanging on the wall. "Your tricks only work on the weak-minded. Grandfather Akiva taught me that much." He smiled sardonically for a moment. "Where did you think Tova got it from, hmm? Did you think I might be so easily swayed? You instantly showed yourself to be a Jedi with that little display."

"How could you lie to me?" Emotion crept back in and almost overwhelmed his host into a whisper. "How could you use my family like this?"

Dustil tried to stand up straight, folding his hands respectfully in front of him.

"I had no choice. We needed to investigate the Sith, your grandfather was the last link to them. You wouldn't have let me see his archives if you had known-"

"Of course I wouldn't have!" Vin broke in. "You're a Jedi! You would lead them right to us, you would put Tova, her sister, my wife; all of us in danger! And now…"

He didn't like how cold it was in the hallway, and he shivered again, wondering if it was just Vin's incredibly cold shoulder or the actual temperature.

"I understand if you want me to leave. But you know I would never let anything happen to Tova…or to you, or to the rest of your family."

Vin suddenly laughed brokenly.

"I believe that at least. I believe that you didn't intend for any harm to come to us." His host turned back towards him.

"But unfortunately Dustil, harm has come despite your efforts. I had hurried home from work and straight to the archives to tell you." His teeth clenched together.

"I trusted you. I thought you were here to protect us, and all along you were leading them straight to my grandfather. I went to you with the intention of warning you, of trying to get your advice. What did I receive? The knowledge that you were a lying, cheating Jedi. Your hasty and clumsy efforts to protect your stolen kisses with my daughter. A poor payment for my hospitality. I'm sure your illustrious father would be ashamed of you."

He felt them in the house even before Vin said anything about it. Dustil pulled out his lightsaber, igniting it and staring down the hall, squinting at the dancing shadows near the door.

"They snuck into the city. They found me and told me…they told me they would murder my family if I didn't give them what they wanted. They wanted the archives. They wanted the knowledge of how to access them and understanding of what they contained."

Dustil watched four figures begin to outline in the shadows. He watched them grow larger as they stalked towards him.

Don't panic, don't panic.

"You can't do this, Jaron," he hissed, moving in front of him, feeling them trying to pull his blade out of his hands, trying to knock him to the floor, trying to control him. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"I told you from the very beginning, Dustil," Vin said hoarsely, shrinking back against the wall, the sight of Sith in the flesh enough to ruin his cold façade. "That I would let nothing endanger my family. Not even you."

His lightsaber shook in his hands. The four Sith that had come to collect him stepped into the dim lighting.

Dustil recognized the bald human who had helped to break his arm; the Twi'lek Revan had battled, now missing an arm. There were two more humans, one of them covered in rough black tattoos and the other a girl.

Their faces, scarred and ugly and lifeless, were not what identified them as Sith. It was what he could feel from them; things that were frightening familiar, old wounds that had never quite healed breaking open and bleeding once again.

"Don't do this!" he yelled to Vin, despite the fact that it was too late for his host to do anything about his choice. "You don't understand, they'll-"

His lightsaber broke free of his grip, slamming into the wall and falling to the floor, silent and harmless.

The tattooed Sith and the bald one lunged for him. Dustil tried to leap over them, but they had anticipated that and grabbed him mid-leap. They wrapped their arms around his like iron vices, yanking back hard. His injured shoulder felt like it was tearing all over again.

The girl pulled out a neural disruptor band, walking towards him.

The Twi'lek nodded towards Vin.

"You were wise to cooperate, Vin," His voice was oily, like Dustil imagined liquid would sound if it could speak. "I'd advise you never to try and hide anything related to the Jedi again. It may be the last thing you ever do."

Vin nodded quickly, terrified.

Dustil thought of screaming as he thrashed about, trying to get free of them.

No, I'll wake up Tova, he thought dimly, gritting his teeth and trying to move his head around where the Sith girl was trying to secure the neural disruptor band around his temples.

Why haven't they killed me?

One word sprung to mind as the Sith held his head in place and the neural disruptor was turned on, electrocuting him into darkness.

Conversion.