Author's note: Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the wedding nights. Here's what they were up to during the honeymoon. Please read and review!

Always, LJ


"I don't want a beach," Revan said to Carth as they boarded the Ebon Hawk.

"No beach?" Carth didn't seem all that surprised, and she looked at him sharply. "Okay, sand and surf out. What did you have in mind?"

T3 beeped in cheerful welcome as they made their way up the ramp and headed to the cabin. Revan patted its head as she passed, murmuring hello. "I've been thinking about it." She tossed her bags into the closet as they entered the cabin, catching his as he lobbed them in the general direction and hanging up the garment bags that contained their more formal attire. "As romantic as paradise sounds, I'd rather go somewhere we really wouldn't be disturbed."

"Okay," Carth said affably. "It's not like I've made reservations anywhere. You have somewhere in mind?"

"Yes," she stopped and looked at her husband, her eyes solemn. "I want to go home, Carth."

He gazed at her a moment. "Telos?" he asked gently.

"Yes."

He smiled, and it was like a sun breaking through clouds. "You got it, Beautiful."


I'd been to Manaan a few times, but not, of course, in the last ten years. Atton had told me about the Sith being kicked out, and the atmosphere had changed radically since. The officials at the dock were far more affable, and the tourists rowdier. But the view was the same; bright sparkling water as far as the eye could see. I sighed with pleasure looking over the vast ocean and had to be prodded by my husband to stop staring and move on to the hotel.

We checked in, left our bags, and immediately headed to the swoop registration area. During my exile, I had owned a modified swoop bike, which fit in the cargo area of the small ship I had acquired. It had been useful as transportation planet side, quick and maneuverable, able to squeeze in where speeders couldn't. I had done my best to dampen the engine noise to make it stealthier, as well. That had sacrificed speed, though, and I soon abandoned this alteration. Annie and I had exchanged ships, and consequently bikes, in her haste to send me back to known space. I never did ask her what had become of mine. Atton had his bike in the Sphinx's garage, and I wanted to find a good used one for me.

As Atton haggled with the race official, I wandered over to the makeshift swoop bike lot. There were about a dozen for sale, with various modifications. Some were so obviously past their prime no amount of fix-up would get them back on the track, and I wondered why their owners bothered, or why anyone would buy them. Spare parts, maybe?

Two looked to be in good shape, and I checked them over carefully. I was halfway through inspecting the second one when Atton caught up to me, shaking his head.

"They're less than friendly around here with amateur racers," he reported with a slight scowl. "They've got the best class of racers in the sector and know it. But I got us in."

"Good job," I approved. "When?"

"Tomorrow, mid-afternoon." He looked over the bike, squatting to inspect the engine and brakes. "This looks pretty good," he said, nodding. "I'd like to listen to the engine, though."

"What a good idea," I said sweetly. "I wouldn't have thought of that."

He had the grace to flush. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Your mechanical skills are excellent, just a habit."

I nodded coolly and looked around for the owner. It took some time, but eventually we were able to listen, prod and test drive the two bikes, settling on the first one that I had noticed. There was nothing at all wrong with it that a tune-up wouldn't cure. Atton and I rented garage space for a couple of hours to do just that. We also paid for a secure parking area for both our bikes. Atton left me to finish up on mine to go fetch his, and then we were both ready for some practice runs.

I took my first run at about two-thirds speed, getting the feel of my new bike and memorizing the track layout. I knew that they changed the hazards around roughly once a week, and the last change had been yesterday; it was one of the things I had asked immediately. I could feel Atton watching me drive, wondering how I could make such a bet with him. I didn't look like a hotshot racer, and knew it. I didn't care; I loved racing, was good at it, and did things my own way. He'd learn.

It had been about nine months since I'd last raced. Even at a relatively slow speed I was enjoying the feel of wind on my face and smell of the sea. I took two slow practice runs, after which I was certain I could hit most of the accelerators full out, while avoiding hazards. I did a third run at near top speed, just to make certain. Smiling, I parked and watched Atton ride.

He drove his bike as he drove anything, with total concentration and instinctive flair. It was a pleasure to watch him plow through the course like he owned it. He was very good, as I had expected. But unless my bike blew an engine, I had the bet cold.

He finally parked and strolled over to me, smiling rather tentatively. I smiled back serenely, knowing he was wondering what I was up to. I simply got up and kissed him with enthusiasm.

"Mmmm," he said appreciatively. "I love you too. So you want to tell me why you're driving like an arthritic old lady?"

"Getting the feel of the track," I shrugged.

"And you don't think running it a couple times full speed will help?" he asked reasonably.

"I don't need to," I said calmly.

"It's your loss," he said cheerfully. "Don't cry foul tomorrow when I win."

"Fine with me," I grinned. "What are the stakes?"

He eyed me with caution. "You're not much of a gambler," he said slowly. "So I have to believe you're confident you'll win. Why am I thinking you're setting me up?"

"It's not a setup unless I was deliberately leading you to believe I'm not as good as I am. I didn't do anything different today than I ever do," I pointed out. "I just don't go all out unless it's a real race."

"Fair enough," Atton nodded. "It's just…it's a different feel at higher speeds. I don't see how you can be so sure of yourself on a track you haven't run before without trying it at least once fast."

"I did run the track," I insisted. "Speed isn't a factor for me."

"I don't take sucker bets," Atton said flatly. "You believe you'll win. You're not a person to insist on an outcome unless you're sure of it. So no deal."

"Well," I said regretfully, "You're a very intelligent man. I can't argue logic."

"But…" he said thoughtfully, "I will make one bet with you."

"That being?" I raised my brows in inquiry.

"If you beat the best time out there tomorrow, you have to show me how well you really fly." He cocked his head at me, a half smile on his face. "Ships, not bikes."

"I don't understand," I said, brows knitting in puzzlement. "How is that a reward for me?"

"Well…" Atton said consideringly, "you've said flying's boring. Either you're so good at it that's it's no longer a challenge, or you've never learned what it's all about. So you're either going to show me up, or I'll get to teach you a thing or two. Either way, you win."

"I suppose," I said dubiously. "Assuming I want to do either."

"Hey," Atton coaxed. "I've got an ego, sweetheart, but it's not so big I can't admit when someone's better than I am. Either way, I'd love to see it. Really."

"You don't have to make a bet with me to do that," I smiled.

"No," he agreed cheerfully, "but it makes things interesting. If you lose, it'll either be because you're not as good as you think you are, or you threw the race."

"Why would I throw the race?" I demanded.

"To spare me? Because you don't like to fly? Hell if I know," he said, shrugging.

"You know," I said quietly, "I didn't say I could beat all the professional racers. I just said I could beat you."

"And I said I believe you," he said easily. "If you can beat me, you'll likely set the track record."

"I'm not sure which of us is more arrogant here," I laughed. "Okay, you're on."

"That settled, I want to race you. Now."

I looked at him with surprise. "Now? It's not official on practice runs."

"Doesn't have to be," he said, kissing my cheek. "Just between us."

"Why?"

"I want to see how good you are," he said simply. "I'll go pay the track master."

He ran first, and I immediately saw the difference when he was serious. He drove smoothly, hitting most of the accelerators to boost his bike even faster, avoiding the hazards with almost clairvoyant casualness. His shifting was near perfect, and I was impressed. I cheered as he hit the finish line and we waited to see his time. Very good, I admitted. Not more than a couple of seconds slower than track best. I was going to have to beat the record by at least a full second to make good on my boast. Then I was up.

I mounted my bike, closing my eyes and tuning in to the sound of the engines, grasping the steering stick and letting the energy flow. The light went green, and I was off. My bike was excellent; it responded to my lightest touch and shifted like a dream. I hardly had to look at the track; it was already imbedded in my mind and I hit all but the two accelerators I'd already dismissed as being too far out of the pattern I'd chosen to be worth using. My world had shrunk to me, the bike, and the track, and I felt the familiar exhilaration of knowing this was mine. I hit the finish at full speed and throttled back, powering down perfectly at the end of the strip.

Hopping out, I looked at the clock and grinned. I'd beat Atton by three and a half seconds, give or take a tenth.

When I returned to my husband, he was grinning all over his face. "You weren't kidding," he said admiringly. "You're fantastic!"

"Thanks," I said breathlessly as he picked me up and whirled me around, kissing me soundly.

"And you're glowing," he said, setting me down. "You really love this."

"I said I did," I pointed out, but couldn't help the silly grin threatening to split my face.

"Yeah, you did, and I've never been so happy to lose," Atton enthused. "I'm placing a huge bet on you tomorrow."

"No pressure," I laughed.


The flight to Telos took about four hours, most of which Revan and Carth spent talking in the cockpit. Will Cantor had left an hour ahead of them, to report to Coruscant and his out-processing from the military. He was positively euphoric about his acceptance into the Order, a state Carth wasn't used to seeing in his quiet and efficient aide. He commented on it to Revan, who smiled.

"I like Will a great deal," she said. "It's good to see someone so enthusiastic about being Jedi."

"Will's a good man," Carth agreed. "Best aide I've ever had. He'll do brilliantly."

"How did Colonel Braddox take your Jedi status?" Revan asked curiously. She had spoken to Carth's XO a few times, but mostly about general things. His recitation of Carth's virtues was the most personal he had been.

"Max is a little bemused, but supportive," Carth said. "I'm recommending him for his own command, by the way."

"Is that such a good idea?" Revan asked with concern. "With your training for the next year, and the mission coming up, do you want to be breaking in a new XO at the same time?"

"First of all, it will take time to find him a good posting," Carth said seriously. "He's too good to be given the usual garbage scow, get your feet wet, you gotta start somewhere commands. Second, I can't let my personal situation hold back someone with talent and potential."

"You're right," Revan nodded. She grinned. "I can't help it, I think of you first."

Carth leaned over the controls, took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "I appreciate that."

"So when was the last time you went home?" Revan asked, changing gears.

Carth stared studiously out the view screen. "Two years, give or take."

She gazed at him thoughtfully, noting how stiffly he held his shoulders. "Your lady friend?" she asked softly.

"I took some time off before accepting command of the Eternity," he shrugged. "I spent two of those three months at home. When I left, I swore I wouldn't come back until you were with me."

She was silent, knowing what he hadn't said; the woman he had been involved with had been with him, and they had parted from Telos. She felt an unexpected stab of jealousy of this unknown female that had captured Carth's attention, however briefly. She was honest enough to acknowledge a purely feminine satisfaction that she hadn't been able to keep him. It was unworthy of her, and she knew it. She spent a few fierce moments struggling with herself and with an almost visible effort was able to let it go. She sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry," her voice was quiet. "I know how much you love your home."

He smiled at her briefly. "I do. But I figured out it wasn't home anymore without you. Besides," he added easily, the tension disappearing, "it's not like I have a lot of spare time to hang out there. I considered selling the place."

"You did?!" she didn't mean to shout, but it was surprised out of her. "What in the galaxy for?" she asked in a more sedate tone.

"It seemed a waste," Carth said quietly, not looking at her. "It's a beautiful house, and was only being used occasionally, whenever Dustil or Mission or I had some time away. It deserved to have a family in it full time. But…I couldn't let it go, so I hired a company to go in once a month or so, keep it in repair and clean so when one of the kids had time off they could go home."

"But not you," Revan said quietly.

"No," Carth shook his head. "Don't feel bad, Rev. We all had things to deal with while you were gone. I had my job, that helped a lot. You were fighting for your life, for all of us. Not your fault I couldn't deal with some things."

They were silent for a while, each in their own memories. Finally, Revan reached over and took Carth's hand, squeezing it. He squeezed back, turning and smiling at her, his hazel eyes warm.

"Did…" Revan faltered a little, not sure if this was the intrusion it felt like. But she took a breath and asked quickly, "Did you tell her I was back, about getting married?" She couldn't imagine when he'd had time, but knew he was the master of time management. It was certainly possible, and like him to do it.

He didn't answer right away, just looked at her thoughtfully. "You do recall she's married with a baby, right? And her name is Hava."

"Yes, I remember," Revan said, ashamed of her prying but not seeming able to stop herself. "I know you're still friends, and I'm okay with that. It's just…we lost so much time, and…I can't help being…a little jealous. She was there when you were promoted, for one." Her head was down. "I really am glad you tried, I don't blame you in the slightest."

"But it's different in the abstract, as opposed to knowing she's out there, and you'll probably meet her someday," Carth said shrewdly. "Believe me, Rev, I understand. I can't even say I'd take it back or do it different, looking back. If I'd known when you were coming home…" he shook his head regretfully. "I know I could have held out, not made such a mess of things. It was the not knowing." He shrugged helplessly.

"Yes," Revan looked at him then, and smiled sadly. "I told you I understand, and I do. When did you comm…Hava?" She said the name steadily enough, but Carth wasn't fooled. He didn't comment, though, knowing it was better to keep it matter of fact.

"The day before the wedding…the one that didn't happen," Carth said, his voice straightforward. "It wasn't fair for her to find out over the grapevine. Admiral Onasi's nuptials would be all over the fleet as soon as it was announced. Hava's husband is military, as is she, you know. No way she'd miss the gossip. She wished me happy," he added with a small smile.

"I'll bet," Revan snorted. "You said she didn't like me."

"She doesn't know you," Carth argued gently. "She just doesn't like her friend hurt, that's all. And that's all we ever really were. Friends."

"I know," Revan said again. "I'm just being a jealous bitch, and know it."

"Well, you're here now, and I can go home." That simple statement warmed her more than anything he could have said, and she slipped out of the copilot's seat, kneeling on the floor and leaning on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, embracing her firmly. "Love you, Rev," he whispered.

"Love you too, Handsome," she kissed his cheek.

They arrived at Telos an hour later. Carth punched in the security codes to deactivate the automatic defense system that protected the property from intruders. It wasn't quite military quality, but near enough, he had told her once. Necessary with the house standing empty most of the time. They landed and parked in the hangar behind the two story, old-fashioned stone house that sat near the edge of the grounds, a wide sweeping expanse of young woodland taking up most of the ten acres making a picturesque setting for the home and gardens.

Revan sighed with pleasure on seeing it again. The house had been in the Onasi family for six generations, and Carth had completely updated it just before his marriage to Morgana. How it had escaped destruction during the war, he never did understand. Morgana had been killed at her mother's, a good fifty klicks away. He hadn't lived in it for years after the loss of his family. The memories had been too painful. It was only after the Star Forge mission that he had regularly lived there in between assignments. Revan had loved it the minute she saw it.

It was a big rectangular structure, not as huge as the Mandalore's, of course, but large enough to house a good sized family. Made from local stone, the modernization didn't detract from the quaintness of its design. The gardens were well tended and colorful, and as they approached, Revan saw that everything shone. The windows gleamed, the trim was freshly painted, and the walkway was swept. The maintenance company must be extraordinarily dedicated, she thought.

Carth stopped her as she automatically started to punch in the access code next to the front door. She looked up quizzically.

"Let me," he said, swiftly finishing the sequence. As the door opened, he swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Onasi," he said, setting her on her feet.

"It hasn't changed a bit," she said, trying to see everything at once.

She looked around and realized there were no dust covers, no sign that it had been unoccupied for more than a year. She turned in a circle in the foyer, noting the familiar hardwood floors gleaming with polish, the same broad staircase leading to the upper floor, the comfortable leather furniture in the living area. Something clicked and she turned to him with a huge smile.

"You knew I was going to want to come here, didn't you?" she asked. "You must have called ahead and had them open the house."

"Let's just say I hoped so," Carth admitted. "I thought it was a better than average chance you'd suggest it yourself."

"And if I had taken you up on the sand and surf?" she teased.

"I'd have suggested this be our last stop before Coruscant," he said promptly. "But I couldn't imagine you not wanting to come home for at least a few days."

"This," she said, kissing him silly, "is what I love about you. You know me better than I know myself."

Hand in hand, they toured the house, Revan getting more sentimental with each room. By the time they inspected the upstairs, she was close to crying.

"Hey, Beautiful," Carth kissed her gently. "It's okay. The house missed you too."

It was an odd, fanciful thing for him to say, and she stared at him a minute. But she hadn't missed the warmth and welcome that seemed to flow out of the walls, and the feeling of coming home at last. She knew that wherever Carth was, she'd be, and that was as it should be. But here…this was the place she would always picture when she thought of home. And now, she really was a part of its history. She was married to the heir of the Onasi family, his son to follow when the time came.

"Yes," she said finally, shining with happiness. "I missed it, too."


Later that night, drowsy and contented in bed, Atton rolled over, his face serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I traced a finger idly down his arm, smiling dreamily. Sex with my husband is a bigger high than swoop racing, I thought with immense satisfaction.

"You're glowing again," he said softly, kissing my temple. "Nice to see."

"Mmmm," I nuzzled his ear. "That wasn't a question."

"No," he chuckled. "I wanted to ask…and I don't want you take this wrong…" he was hedging, and I looked up sharply.

"What is it?" I asked, backing away and sitting up.

"Now, don't get defensive," he pulled me closer, but I sat stiffly.

"Just ask," I said.

"It's just…I know the Order screwed up your perception about yourself," he said quietly. "I just wondered…why is it I don't see you show much real enthusiasm about anything?"

I'd expected this question sooner or later. I just didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did. My face stilled. "I do about you," I said quietly.

"And racing, I found out today," he agreed. "You get enthusiastic about the Order, sort of…"

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" I eyed him, hating how defensive I sounded but not seeming to be able to stop it.

"Look," Atton sat up and ran a hand down his face. "I'm going about this all wrong."

"That depends on what you're doing," I said. I thought about trying to read him, but suspected I'd get a mental Pazzak hand. "Just say it."

"Okay," he let out his breath in a slow sigh, and looked at me squarely. "I get that you've had to block yourself off most of your life," he said carefully. "But does that include having to shut down everything, even basic pleasure out of, hell, I don't know, music, or dancing, or flying?"

"Or Pazzak?" I asked, a little caustically. He flinched.

"Not everyone enjoys the game," he said evenly. "I have a sneaking suspicion that you don't not because you don't get it, but because you get it too well. Like flying."

"You're not making any sense," I said crisply, drawing back to matter-of-factness. "I get it too well? Flying too?"

"I'm only just beginning to realize how quickly you adapt and learn," he seemed to be struggling to find words, and I wasn't in a mood to help him. "I think you don't like Pazzak because it's too easy for you. A lot of things are."

"Easy?" I asked, trying hard to be calm. Not many would have seen through it, but Atton just looked at me and I saw the understanding dawning. I looked away.

"Dria," he said softly, "Until today, the only time I see you really letting go is when you're with me."

"And this is a problem?" I asked frostily.

"Yes," he said, and I could see him starting to be irritated himself. "I told you I loved your passion, but until today, I didn't understand how controlled you keep yourself. Even on the track you held something back. Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me," he said quietly. "If only because I want you to be the most of who you are."

I slipped off the bed and turned my back, putting a few paces of distance between us. I hugged my elbows with my hands and hadn't a clue what to say. I heard him scoot over to the side of the bed and the muffled sound of his feet hitting the floor. My spine stiffened but I didn't, couldn't, turn around.

"I've seen you lose control of yourself maybe a half a dozen times since I've met you," Atton's voice was soft behind me. "Each time you were surprised by something. Even when we fought when you first got back, you held back. I was being a royal bastard, and you shouted, but your passion wasn't really there. You love people without reservation, but you don't really let them in. I think I understand why…."

"Do you?" I cut in harshly. "Pray enlighten me."

He was silent long enough that I almost turned around to see if he'd simply gone to sleep. But then he spoke heavily. "They trained you to be still."

"What?" His choice of words surprised me, and I turned to look at him.

"They were so afraid of what you could do, that they taught you to be in utter control of yourself," Atton said quietly. "And I see you going back to it now."

"What do you mean, back to it?" I was bewildered at this conversation, defensive and suddenly frightened. Which, perversely, was starting to make me angry.

"You reconnected with the Force about fifteen months ago," Atton pointed out. "And all that time, I've watched you grow more into yourself. You've had uncontrolled moments, but they're getting fewer and farther between. You're so perfect you're practically robotic."

"Thanks," I said, turning away and unable to keep the hurt out of my voice. "Nice to know how you think of me."

"That's not it, Dria," Atton protested, sounding peeved. "I'm screwing this up, and I don't mean I…damn it, I just mean…ah, shit." I heard him stand and start toward me. I retreated behind the dressing table chair, a poor shield but the only one handy.

"Look," he said helplessly, "I shouldn't have started this, or said anything. It's just that if you keep on like this, I don't know if I'll know you anymore. And I love you."

"Like what?" I asked, suddenly furious. "You marry me and suddenly realize I'm damaged goods?"

"See, that's the real you," Atton said with some satisfaction. "You're mad."

"Of course I'm mad!" I spat. "Just because I don't display every emotion, or pretend to, doesn't mean I don't feel things."

"I never said you didn't," Atton said quietly. "I know you do, better than anyone. But you keep yourself on such a tight rein that I'm afraid you'll snap." He approached cautiously, and when I didn't flinch away he gathered me into his arms. But I stood stiff as a durasteel beam and cursed inwardly that I was trembling.

"You're doing it again," he murmured in my ear. "You hate that you're angry. You have a horror of losing control. All I want to know is why."

"Don't you?" I asked, starting to relax a little. His warmth made the trembling stop.

"Yeah, I do," he admitted readily. "But it's different…I've done terrible things. I don't want to go back to that. You haven't."

"I blew up a whole planet," I pulled away. "I win."

"No, you didn't," Atton corrected, letting me go for now but retaining my hand. "You followed orders. Bao Dur invented the Shadow Generators, Revan gave the order, you executed it. For that matter, the Mandalorians started the war that led to all of it. And you want to take full responsibility? That's arrogant, even to me."

I smiled a little at that, and we stood there, Atton struggling to understand, me not knowing if he ever could. Gradually, I felt my defensiveness fall away, and sighed, wishing we could have put off this conversation forever. But I knew that it had been coming since the first time we'd met, and it was more than time to face things.

I took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. I let go of his hand, turned away and stood a good distance from him, wrapping my arms around my waist and clutching at my elbows. The room was warm but I was growing chilled, although I didn't allow myself to shiver. I sensed Atton behind me, trying to be patient but utterly at sea as to where I was going. I gathered my thoughts, and spoke.

"I was four when I first hurt someone badly," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to. I was growing stronger in the Force, astonishingly so. One of the other Padawan learners was teasing me, and took the flower I was tending for class, and crushed it. Botany was one of my favorite subjects," I said, remembering. "I threw him against the wall. He broke his spine."

I heard Atton let out his breath suddenly. "Oh shit," he said so quietly I almost missed it. "Did he recover?"

"Yes," I said, closing my eyes. "The Master got to him right away, and healed the worst of the damage. It took a week for him to heal, but in the end, no harm was done. My lessons started the next day. No one did or said anything to indicate I was bad. But I never forgot seeing that boy on the floor, so still, knowing I did that. His name was Arden." I breathed slowly, carefully, as I'd been taught.

"But Dria…you were a child. You just lost control when you shoved him, that's all. I understand it was…"

"No, you don't understand," I said, turning around with my eyes stark. "I never laid a hand on him."

"You…" he stopped, swallowing. "Oh."

"Yes," I said, nodding. "Now you're starting to see."

I started to pace, trying to put into words what I'd been so adept at hiding. "The Masters said that when they took me from the orphanage, they saw signs that I emotionally manipulated everyone there. I wasn't spoiled, or treated badly, I was quite a favorite, actually. Not one of the caretakers there was surprised I was Jedi material; they were very pleased to see me go to the enclave to train. They were proud of me. But apparently, I had been influencing them all along." I shook my head sadly. "One of the nannies from the orphanage, who had been my primary caregiver, tried to kill herself after I left," my voice was nearly a whisper. "Master Vandar sent the best mind-healers at the conclave to help her. They eventually had to wipe her memory of me."

"They told you about that?" Atton looked at me with horror. "A kid? Like it was your fault?"

"No," I shook my head, not able to look at him. "Not until later, when I started questioning why I was treated differently from the other Padawan learners. Master Vandar was quite gentle about telling me, I assure you. But it didn't make me feel any better about it." I resumed my pacing. "It took at least two years before the other younglings weren't afraid of me anymore, after I almost killed Arden. Only Revan and Malak weren't. But even though he didn't fear me, Malak didn't become my friend until I beat him up." I smiled wanly. "I had learned how not to use my mind by then when I was angry, but I hit pretty hard for a five year old."

I stopped prowling, sneaking a look at my husband. He was watching me intently, but not as if I was dangerous. It was almost the look Disciple gets when he's made a particularly interesting discovery. I wasn't certain I liked that look any better than fear.

"Everyone, even Master Vrook who was so hard on everyone, liked me, and that was fine, even wonderful," I continued, glad that Atton hadn't run screaming from the room. "But they trained me harder than anyone. My lessons started in a padded room so I couldn't hurt myself or anyone else. Master Vrook spent a week with me, getting me angry, making me lose control. There was a cushion in the room, a big one, almost mattress sized, and he taught me to throw my anger at it. The first day, I almost burned down the room. He switched to plastic, and it melted. I still flinch inside when I smell burning cloth or melted plastic. By the end of the week, I knew how to channel that energy into the air without disaster." I stood there, breathing deeply and trying not to cry. "Even after I became a full Jedi, I had private lessons with Vrook or Vandar or Kavar, working on my mental control. I heard and sensed things differently than other Jedi, without meaning to. I mastered every lesson they gave me, but it was never enough. They didn't let up on me until I was Knighted, because they knew that if I was allowed to lose control, things go wrong."

"Wrong?" Atton asked quietly. "How wrong? That you can unite people for good? Except for losing your temper that one time, how did it hurt anyone?"

"You don't understand," I said, my voice low. "A benevolent dictator is still a dictator. How am I ever certain people really follow me because of me, and not because I made them, unless I keep myself under control? I was six when Revan bonded with me, seven when Malak did. After that I understood somewhat, and managed not to do it again. Until I came back."

"Okay," Atton said, striving for patience. "You bonded with them young. I don't see how it's hurt either of them, even Malak. Sure, he went all Sith Lord on you, but you had nothing to do with that."

"No," I agreed. "I was Force dead then, and couldn't have influenced him. Part of me wonders, no, blames myself for that too though…if I hadn't cut myself off, I might have saved him. Or kept Revan from choosing to ally herself with darkness."

"We've been over that, Dria," Atton said sharply. "You would have fallen yourself. I thought you'd come to terms with that."

"I have," I sighed, and waved off his look of doubt. "No, really, I don't blame myself anymore, honestly. But try to understand. Can you really see how it could be, if every thought, emotion, loss of control, could lead to an accidental bonding? Or that if I get angry, I can literally make things explode?"

Atton stared for a long minute, and I could see his mind whirling. "It wasn't Revan who was the biggest threat after the war," he said softly. "It was you."

"It was a lot of things that made me do it," I said tonelessly. "The first and biggest was I felt millions of people die, because of me. It was beyond pain, beyond despair. It was…"

"Hell," Atton finished. "You felt as if you were in hell." He stared at me with an expression that I knew very well. It was the same one I'd seen in my own eyes for years after Malachor V.

"No," I whispered. "I felt like I'd created hell. And I did." I looked away again, swallowing hard. "I had to cut it out," I rasped. "I had to make it stop. Because if I didn't, I'd become something worse. And I saw it, Atton. I saw what I'd be. I saw a universe of destruction, a wasteland. That's what would have been me."

"So you cut off the Force," he said, and I flinched at the awe in his voice. "And instead of a wasteland, you only wounded the universe."

"Only?" I said harshly. "It nearly destroyed every Jedi in it."

"But it didn't," Atton said. "Don't you see? It didn't. The Jedi brought about their own destruction, Dria. Because they didn't train you right, they kept you ignorant and under control."

"They were right, can't you see?" I demanded. "I don't even know what I can do. I don't want to know. If I ever just gave up and gave in, I could…gods, I don't even want to think about it."

"But Dria," Atton came over and put his hands on my shoulders. I was shaking now, threatening to come apart at the seams. "Sweetheart, you do have that control. You've chosen every time to fight back against destruction. You lost everything to keep, well, everybody, safe." He kissed the top of my head and I felt the trembling slow.

"I'm not a robot," I said helplessly. "I just…I can't afford to…"

"It's okay," he soothed, turning me around and holding me. "I understand. I'm sorry I said anything."

"It's not your fault," I mumbled against his shoulder.

"It's not yours either," Atton said fiercely. "You see that, don't you?"

"See what?" I asked, suddenly tired and wanting to end the whole discussion.

"You were born something extraordinary, Sweetheart," he peered down into my face earnestly, his hands clasping my upper arms. "Something no Jedi was prepared to deal with or imagined possible. Maybe I was too harsh, I don't know…if you were that strong, that young, it's no wonder they were afraid. And I can understand why they taught you control."

"It's a natural process," I said, nodding and feeling my tension ease. "Growing up is all about controlling impulses, learning to reign in the ego. When your impulses can kill someone, it becomes a little more important to get a hold of yourself," I added dryly.

"Yeah," he said, a touch impatiently, "I get that. What I don't understand is once it became abundantly clear you could and would control yourself, why didn't they allow you to develop some of that power? I mean, I'm pretty ticked at them for scarring you badly enough as a child that you didn't dare break rules or form close relationships, or try to develop your many talents, but I can kind of understand the need at first. What I don't get is not allowing you to slowly work on it later."

We had been progressing back to the bed as we talked. I considered Atton's question as I slid under the covers, rolling onto my stomach and clasping a pillow. I had never thought about it that way before, and memories were teeming through my head as I tried to put together the pieces of my past. I felt Atton nearby, not exactly intruding on my thoughts, but aware of them.

The Council insisting on staying out of the war. More specifically, me staying out of it. Force bonding with Annie, then Malak. The Order granting me Master at seventeen. Winning over my troops, barely eighteen with the responsibility of someone triple my age, leading them into battle and winning again and again. Their nearly fanatical devotion to me. Master Vandar's face when I told him I was going with Revan. The Council when I came back and they imposed Exile.

"Master Kavar, no, all of them told me that the exile was something they suggested, that they had no power to make me obey," I said suddenly. "As if they knew, somehow, that I might connect with the Force again some day. And they made me Master at seventeen, a ridiculously young age. I thought it was because they thought I'd have better influence on Annie and Mak if I outranked them. But what if it was something else?"

"They were getting you ready for the next stage of your training," Atton said, his quick mind following my train of thought. "Making you Master, giving you some heavy responsibility. I'm betting they partly made you Master so young, though, because you were simply that good, despite them trying to slow your progress. They couldn't deny you the rank when it was obvious you were stronger and in better control than most."

"It never seemed that way to me," I said quietly. "I knew I had a fair amount of talent, but…"

"Part of the training was to make sure you had humility," Atton interrupted. "Ego unchecked is a dangerous thing. I should know," he said with a shadow of a grin. "But you being you, it backfired some and you took on too much insecurity about yourself and your abilities."

"And I left," I said softly. "I followed Revan, and that was the end of my training. They didn't have time."

"I still think they wouldn't have let you develop it fully," Atton mused. "But yeah, I think they were preparing you to take it a step further."

"But I left," I said again. "And the Council took that as proof that they hadn't done as good a job keeping me obedient and under control as they thought."

"They watched you. Revan and Malak, too, but it was you they were most concerned with, I'll bet," Atton took up the thread. "They must have known you lost connection to the Force, no Master of their level could miss it."

"They didn't," I said softly. "And then I surprised them again. I came back."

"That must have given them something to think about," Atton said with an almost savage smile. "You proved you had the integrity they thought you spit on by defying the Council. You faced their judgment, went into exile. Ironic, really," he said with a quirk of his eyebrow, "since you weren't a threat anymore"

"But all along they were worried I'd reconnect with the Force, and when I did, I would blame them for the war, for Malachor V. And probably for what they did to me, if I ever figured it out. They were right," I said softly. "I did blame them, for a time."

"The biggest problem was there wasn't enough Jedi left to really explain everything to you," Atton pointed out. "They were all dead or in hiding. It must have really burned their asses to have to credit you with -"

"Getting the last of the Council killed?" I interrupted harshly. "I hadn't completed the mission then, you know. They didn't credit me with anything."

"I suppose not," he said somberly. "And by then, they'd decided you were too much of a wild card to live."

"And I let them," I said in a small voice. "I was going to let them kill me. Sometimes," I said sadly, "I think they were right."

Atton's hand shot out so fast I didn't see it coming. He grabbed my arm, hauling me upright and shaking me fiercely.

"You listen to me!" he shouted. "You have done nothing but try and care for the whole damn universe, and I won't let you think they were right. The people who should have loved and cared for you kept you ignorant and used you, and yes, including Revan," he growled furiously. "I love her too, but she used you more than anyone. No one, not one of them, ever gave you credit for having the integrity you do. No one trusted that you would truly use your powers for good." He glared at me, his eyes almost black. "Well I do. I've seen you fight against ignorance and hate and evil, I've seen you take a chance on people that have done worse than you'd ever think of doing. Me. Visas. Canderous. Bao Dur. Hell, I'll bet even Galactic Scout Disciple has a few skeletons dancing around his closet. But you believed in us. Let us believe in you. Better yet, forget what the Order thought of you and believe you're better than that."

He abruptly loosened his grip on my arm. He was breathing hard, struggling not to shout anymore. But he wasn't done. "History's going to paint Revan as the greatest hero of the ages, I'll bet. And to her credit, she's about the last person to think she deserves it. And," he said fiercely, "she was the one person who knew you then that always believed you would never abuse your power. She said so, remember?" He glowered at me, daring me to disagree. "But to anyone who lived it, the real hero is you."

"I never wanted to be," I said when I was sure he was done ranting.

"No hero ever does, sweetheart," he said, smiling suddenly.

"Stop calling me that," I snapped irritably.

"Okay," he agreed cheerfully. "But Dria…will you think about what I said?"

I looked at him a long minute, then nodded.

"Good," he pulled me into his arms and flopped back onto the mattress, cuddling close. "Now," he asked with a change of subject so complete it made my head spin, "when you whip everyone's ass tomorrow, what do you want to do with the credits?"


By some people's standards, Revan reflected a week later, this honeymoon might seem mundane, even boring. No exotic locations, no nightlife, very little drinking, and no other soul around.

But then, most people aren't married to Carth Onasi.

It was exhilarating being married to someone as intelligent, creative, and physically fit as her husband. They had hardly spent any time clothed, which suited both of them fine. Five years of loneliness and longing had manifested into a heady week of not being able to keep their hands off each other. Not a room in the house had been safe, except the two that had been Dustil and Mission's. Of course, one of those would soon be made into a second guest room.

In between, they talked more than either of them had in years. They enjoyed long walks in the woods out back, carrying a blanket and lunch to take advantage of the unusually fine weather and the total privacy of the grounds. She'd spent more time out of her clothes outdoors than in them, and loved every minute of it. Just her, Carth, and the breeze on their skin as they made love was utterly intoxicating. Sighing in pleasure, Revan leaned against her husband, his arm around her, neither of them wearing a stitch. They were sitting on the blanket on the bank of a pond about two klicks from the house.

"We should move our bed out here," she said whimsically. "Best of both worlds."

"Not a bad idea," Carth pretended to consider it. "Canderous would probably lend us one of his war machines to move it."

The bed in question was huge, a four-poster behemoth that probably weighed as much as a small shuttle. It sagged in all the right places and had plenty of room for creativity. Of slightly taller than average height, Revan still needed a step placed conveniently on either side to get into it. The thought of it in the middle of the woods tickled her and she laughed.

"It would get cold in winter," she said with mock regret. "Best leave it inside." She shivered as a gust of wind blew her hair out of her eyes.

"Cold?" Carth asked, grabbing a tunic at random and tossing it at her.

She'd slipped back into her habit of wearing his, belting them and rolling up the sleeves to the elbow. Catching the garment without looking, she tied it jauntily around her shoulders rather than put it on.

"Not really," she smiled.

"Gods," he groaned. "Don't smile like that."

"Like what?" she teased, cat's smile stealing over her lips.

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Carth leaned close and kissed her. "It's like being a teenager all over again. Minus spots and awkward voice moments and total lack of anything resembling a clue."

"You have a wonderful voice," Revan purred. "Just deep enough to make my knees quiver. And I'd say you have more than a clue what to do with a woman."

"I've been out of practice," Carth said, nuzzling her ear. "But it's like driving a ship; everything comes back to you."

"If this is out of practice," Revan gasped as his tongue touched a particularly sensitive spot, "I won't be able to walk for a week once you're up to speed."

He grinned and proceeded to completely rock her world. Again.


After winning the swoop bike race, I insisted on donating the winnings to an orphanage. Atton had no problems with that, cheerfully handing over the pouch of credits and relishing the look on the headmistress' face when she opened it. I smiled in satisfaction, grabbed Atton's arm and got us out of there almost before her stammered thanks were out of her mouth. We spent the rest of the week mostly in our room, the door locked securely, opened only occasionally when whatever we'd ordered to eat arrived.

"I've never met a woman so comfortable naked," Atton commented as we ate dinner lounging on the bed, cartons spread around.

"It's just skin," I shrugged. "I notice you have no problems with it."

"Not a bit," he said cheerfully. "I like you naked. In your case, they ought to make clothes illegal." He offered a bite out of the carton he was delving into, and I leaned over to take it. Sauce dripped of the fork and hit me on the chin. Atton quickly licked it off before I could.

"Mmmm. Tastes better off you," he said wickedly.

I smiled, but didn't rise to the bait; I was starving. He sat back, grinning, and grabbed another box.

"I had an idea," he announced as we finished off the last of our meal.

"Clean off the bed first," I said, starting to gather empty carton.

"Not that kind," he laughed, helping me and taking my handful, disposing of them in the incinerator.

"I wore you out already?" I asked innocently. "How disappointing."

He growled at me menacingly, grabbed me around the waist and tossed me on the bed. I hit the mattress giggling and he dove at me, attempting to tickle me. Unfortunately for him, I am difficult to take by surprise in that way, but I gave him a good show. The good natured wrangling ended with me flat on my back, my hands firmly trapped above my head, and his mouth making me moan.

Some time later, he smiled dreamily. "I'm a dead man," he said softly. "I can't get enough of you. I'm so lucky you married me."

"Why is that?" I murmured, his head heavy against my breast. I brushed his hair away from his face.

"Because otherwise, I'd be starting fights all over the galaxy, following you around and trying to kill every man that looks at you." He looked up, his expression only half joking.

"That's hardly healthy," I scolded. "And you're not the jealous type."

"No," he sighed. "I thought not, anyway. But I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else."

"Me either." I said softly. "I can't imagine being with anyone else. And I'm afraid I don't like the idea of you being with another woman, either."

"Good thing you married me, then." His eyes had gone intent. "Because you know I keep my promises."

"I know," I nodded. "So what was your idea?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh…well, you won, you know. First, I'd like to see you fly." He propped himself on an elbow, running an idle hand down my arm.

"And second?" I didn't bother to argue with him over the flying. He'd nibble me to death; might as well give in now.

"Let's find some deserted spot, land, and spend the rest of the week on the Sphinx." He nuzzled my neck. "After we go dancing tonight."

"Dancing?" I looked into his eyes as he pulled away.

"You love to dance," he said. "Why not? It's an ego boost for me, too…I get to gloat that I have the most beautiful woman in the galaxy on my arm."

"Okay," I smiled. "For your ego."

I wore the blue dress Mira had found, with my hair wound in braids around my head and took some care with cosmetics. Atton whistled appreciatively when I emerged from the 'fresher.

"I changed my mind," he announced. "I can't take you out like that."

"What's wrong?" I asked, anxiously inspecting my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. The material was smooth, no wrinkles or snags, and the moonstone went perfectly with the outfit. I wore it as a pendant and it glittered against the midnight blue silk.

"Are you kidding? That dress will cause a riot," Atton came over and kissed me. "I'm going to have my hands full."

"Is it too much?" I asked. I was wondering now if it had been a good choice, Mira's advice notwithstanding. The bodice was modest, close fitting with a high neck. It was sleeveless, the dark blue making my hair flame, and almost completely backless, dipping dangerously low before sweeping into a skirt that hugged the curve of my hips.

"It's perfect, sweetheart," Atton assured me, escorting me out of our room with a possessive hand on the small of my back. "Although I do wonder where you put your lightsaber."

His was clipped to his belt as usual. He was wearing a similar suit to his wedding garments, though the jacket was shorter. He looked good enough to eat, and smelled even better. I had a small purse I was carrying, and took my 'saber out of it.

"Carry it for me," I requested. "Toss it to me if there's need."

He stopped dead in the hallway, staring at me. To give another Jedi your lightsaber is an enormous mark of trust. I had taken his exactly once, and he had given it without hesitation. I was offering mine, and he understood immediately the significance.

"Just when I think I couldn't possibly love you more," he said softly, "you do something like this. I'll keep it safe," he promised, and clipped it next to his own.


"Let's run away," Carth suggested over dinner a few days later. "Just pack up, take off, and never come back."

Revan stared at him, a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. "What brought this on?" she asked, setting it down carefully.

"These last two weeks have been perfect," he said softly. "I don't want to go back to real life again."

She stood up and held out her arms, and Carth came to her, holding her close and burying his face in her hair. They stood there a long time, just holding each other and breathing.

"I know we can't," he said finally, his voice muffled. "But you were tempted for minute, weren't you?"

"More than you know," she admitted. "Come on, Handsome. Take me to bed."

Arm in arm, they headed up the stairs, food forgotten.