A/N: Would you believe I've had this sitting, in a tab, in my browser, since November? Through like 5 Windows updates, several storms, and a partridge in a pear tree? To the point of me mentioning to my therapist several times that I need to update this and then just... not doing so? Yeesh.

Anyway, ADHD is fun. Executive function who?

The convos with Zez-Kai Ell and Kavar have also been a little tough to write, given how I've intersected them with the terrible Galon-Morace duo. How much info do I hand out, given they both know them and kinda like them? Zez-Kai in particular wanted to just wharblgarbl everything out. I had to give him an excuse not to lmao.

Fortunately I've also gotten my writing legs back, so... I'm most of the way through Dxun/Onderon (which means I've got them posed to leave for Onderon with Candalore, basically). So I'm not super far ahead, but, yknow... it's reasonable. I've also got some of the endgame already written, so that's a little less work moving forwards.

My point is that, as long as I keep my executive function wrangled, we might be okay lmao.

Anyway, enjoy. And sorry about the long-ass wait again.

#*

After carving their way through what must be nearly every bounty hunter on Nar Shaddaa, they reached the docking bay. The Handmaiden waited beside the door, and almost — only almost — smiled when she spotted Trista. She took that as a small victory.

"It is good to have you back, Exile."

"It's good to be back." She pulled the woman after her. "But this place is about to..." Her steps faltered as she looked back at the ship, at the figure waiting by the door, as T3 whipped into the docking tube with Atton right behind him. For a moment, unlike when she'd met Vrook or Atris again, it took a moment for her mind to catch up with her heart.

"Master Ell."

She almost wasn't sure she'd said anything until he met her eyes with a smile that didn't quite reach his own.

"Trista. We can talk on the ship."

She nodded. "Yeah... yeah, let's go." Trista pushed the Handmaiden up into the tube, followed by Visas. "Faster we leave, the better."

Zez-Kai, by his own insistence, was the last to climb on board right behind her. Trista detached the docking tube from the safety of the central hold and called up toward the cockpit.

"All right, get us out of here."

It was only a familiar lurching of the ship in space that indicated Goto's yacht had truly exploded, only about thirty seconds after they'd cleared the docking arm. Mira swore rather vehemently as Atton brought the ship back toward Nar Shaddaa.

"Did we just blow up Goto's yacht?" she asked. "Shit, that's going to destabilize crime in this entire sector."

"Well, he earned it." Trista settled down on the sofa with a sigh. "Forgive me for not crying about it."

"Right, but crime in the Y'Toub system is... it's like the economy. Then you factor in the power vacuum? Even if Vogga gets up and running — if — the system will feel this for years."

Trista frowned. "And if Goto had just picked up a frakkin' comm instead of putting a million-credit bounty on my head, it wouldn't have happened. Economies are unstable as hell. Goto should have made that calculation."

"He likely relied on the passive stereotype of the Jedi," Zez-Kai Ell interrupted from a position near the garage, "and not the tenacity of a former Revanchist."

Somehow, when he said that, it didn't bear the same reproach Atris or Vrook had. It was almost... complimentary? That didn't feel right.

"As it is, I am sure you wish to speak with me. And I... may need to move on from Nar Shaddaa, depending on our conversation."

Her frown deepened. He was, no doubt, correct, but there was a lot that still needed done on the moon — and she hadn't forgotten about his previous reticence to step in. "The refugees still need help, and we can't stay."

"I will do what I can before leaving."

That would have to do. Trista pushed herself off the sofa and stuck her head down the hall to the cockpit. "Atton, take us in. We've got to drop someone off."

"Sure thing."

She jerked her head at Zez-Kai Ell and headed for communications. He followed, pausing for a moment to examine a streak of dried blood on a wall.

"Yeah, uh, bunch of slavers boarded the ship and things got out of hand." Trista sighed as she closed the door. "Haven't had time to clean it."

"Nar Shaddaa can be a difficult place." Zez-Kai Ell sank into a seat, and she settled down across from him. "Now, as long as your companions are correct, I believe you came to Nar Shaddaa to find me. Kavar always thought you might return from exile, but I did not think you would come here -- or during this emergency. Not of your own volition."

"Definitely not," she confirmed. "The bounty on Jedi was coincidentally based here, so it wasn't just a social call."

"Perhaps for the better. But my presence does not seem... unexpected."

"It isn't. Atris had a recording that listed all the Jedi who survived Katarr." His eyes flicked away. "It listed you as coming here."

"And the others?"

"I've spoken with her and Vrook. They've both become terrible conversationalists. No idea about Master Vash or Kavar." She shifted on her chair. "Why did Kavar think I'd come back?"

He shook his head. "I am not sure. It was a sense he had. Perhaps he thought he understood you, or hoped he did. Perhaps he hoped he would be right about you, as he was about Revan."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Zez-Kai Ell was staring at a spot above her head again. Trista's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"He felt you were the key to understanding the threat we face, and the effects of the Mandalorian Wars. And that understanding it was tied to you, not to her. The others were more inclined to believe in her guilt and remove you from the equation entirely."

"It's a logical assumption, so, why me?"

"He sensed a... connection between you and many of the worlds left scarred by the war. And he traveled to many of them over the past ten years, trying to understand it, but I do not know if he ever did."

She sat in silence for a moment, before clearing her throat. That sounded like Kavar, whenever he got introspective. "I've got a lot of questions, as I'm sure you expect."

"No doubt. And there are secrets I've kept for too long. Perhaps the answers will bring us both some measure of peace."

"Perhaps." She turned her first question over in her mind before settling on her plan of attack. "Why, exactly, did the Jedi disappear?"

"As you likely suspect, our flight is not without purpose." She nodded. "It is both to hunt, and to draw out, our pursuers. Somehow, they — we — are being targeted through the Force itself. And where Jedi gather, we are vulnerable."

"Like Katarr."

He paused for a moment, and a pang of regret stabbed at his words as he continued. "Yes. We learned our lesson at far too great a cost.

"And, because of Katarr, we chose worlds where it is difficult to sense others through the Force -- planets dense with life, or steeped in war. In such places we could conceal ourselves, without presenting ourselves as targets. It was part of Kavar's plan."

No surprise there. She'd seen Kavar's hand in this since Telos. "Just part?"

"Yes. He predicted that, if our enemy could not detect us, then they would show themselves. And if we did not withdraw, we would lose this war. The Jedi would fall to the very last child, and the Sith would emerge triumphant."

"Where are they?"

"Those that survived? Atris knows where the rest of the Council walked, but I have not heard from her since we left. As for the other Jedi... two were brought dead to Nar Shaddaa, and three died in the Temple."

"But there are more."

He sighed. "I do not know where they are. And those posing the largest questions... they are harder to place."

Her mind returned to Atris' notes, and the list of a handful of Jedi that left before the Sith showed themselves — not unlike animals fleeing an oncoming earthquake, like they had felt the change in the wind before anyone else could have. Seven total, five in one group, two in the other. All tied to her sister.

"You mean Revan's companions."

"Yes. We feared that the last Jedi with insight into her current activities were lost on Katarr, but I am not so sure. Jolee Bindo may have returned to Kashyyyk, or to another world he walked at Revan's side. Juhani... Juhani may have sought refuge on Taris or Cathar, hiding in the devastation of the last wars as we did. But if I believe anything, it is that their travels with Revan would have kept them from falling victim to Katarr, given them an perspective on the modern Sith that we lacked."

"I'll keep that in mind." She paused. "What about Revan herself?"

To her surprise, Zez-Kai Ell's voice turned harsh. "Perhaps Atris and Vrook would be less vocal about their suspicions if we knew her location. To say Revan is involved – would we deserve it? Possibly. But..."

Trista stared at him as he trailed off. For the very first time, the anger with which a member of the High Council said her sister's name was not directed at Revan, but at his fellow Councilors. The shock of it sent her reeling, so much that her brain almost stopped processing what he was saying.

"They are fixated on Revan but, if she is involved, it is tangential. These assassins, these enemies may be descendants of her philosophy, but nothing more. The Council knows where she's gone — or where she said she was going."

"Wait." Trista straightened. "You do?"

"She told us: the Unknown Regions. And I, for one, believe her. Of the living Masters, so does Kavar. The rest, though… they died on Katarr."

"That's it?"

He nodded and motioned around them. "And as she is no longer in possession of her ship, she is now out of our reach."

Trista sighed and looked away. "I'm not thinking about that."

"Then we'll leave it there."

"When you said the Jedi may have deserved this, what did that mean?"

Zez-Kai Ell was silent for a long time, for far longer than she was comfortable with. While their Master-Padawan relationship had always been more introspective than say, Kavar and Revan's, this heavy, pregnant silence was unusual.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I should not speak of it with the Council absent."

She bit back her immediate response. "But the word, at least in articles from a few years ago, is that she redeemed herself. That she killed A—Malak."

He weighed his words again, visibly, like she could almost see the scale behind his eyes that measured them out carefully before speaking. "Revan's betrayal brought many questions, and many truths, to the surface. I too lost a Padawan to Malachor, but not from the planet's destruction — from Revan's teachings. And I was not the only one."

"So you blamed them? Us?" It was more accusatory than she'd meant, but she didn't take it back. She didn't think Zez-Kai Ell would hold it against her.

And indeed, he did not. As he spoke, she could feel a relief at finally, finally, getting this off his chest. "I did not. The Jedi that followed you and Revan were not to blame, but my opinion was a minority in the Order. It was a difficult time, filled with powerful emotions. And I wondered if perhaps the Council, perhaps the Order itself had grown arrogant in its teachings. This far removed it is easy to cast blame, but perhaps it is time we accepted responsibility for our teachings and arrogance. To recognize that, perhaps, we are flawed."

Trista blinked. "Um—"

"A very un-Jedi-like perspective, I know. But not once did I hear a single person on the Council take responsibility for Revan, for Exar Kun, for Ulic, for Malak... or for you. And yet, you were the only one who returned. And rather than try to understand why you did what you did, or try to help you, we punished you. Instead of taking the chance to see where we had gone wrong, we threw it aside. And now our decision has come back to us, and may bring with it our destruction."

"That's not my intent."

"Intention, and consequences, are not often linked."

Trista's mind wandered back to Peragus with a frown. "Yeah."

"Perhaps there is something wrong in us, in our teachings. Though I tried, I could not stop that feeling. And I sat on the edge of leaving the Council after you were exiled. But within a month Revan struck Foerost and, as she decimated our numbers, I could not leave. But after the Jedi Civil War I was a Council Master in name only, and only of necessity. The doubt within the Order is why so many scattered; it is why the Jedi have lost both the Republic's trust, and our own. I know that I am no longer a Jedi. Whatever happens, this is the end — and perhaps that is for the best."

"Master Ell — uh, sorry, habit. These insinuations you keep making about Revan. Why not just tell me? If she redeemed herself, shouldn't that give you some hope?"

"It provides me no comfort at all, for reasons I..." He stopped and ran his hand down his face with a sigh. "Suffice to say that redemption may not have been Revan's choice. And no matter how the Council tries to console themselves otherwise for the crime they committed—" Zez-Kai Ell stopped talking. "But I cannot speak of that."

"Oh, for Force's sake, Zez-Kai." Trista didn't mean to raise her voice, but it bounded off the comm room screens back at her. She cleared her throat. "She's my sister."

"That is why I—"

"What 'crime' could they have done to her? Don't I deserve to know?"

He was silent for almost a full minute as she sat and stared at him, her leg twitching against the thin chair leg under her.

"During the Jedi Civil War," he finally began, "Revan wielded a fleet more massive than she had left with, with no indication of where the additional ships and droids originated. No matter how many ships we fielded or battles we fought, her forces never diminished. Without knowing how to target her supply, there was little we could do." He shifted in his chair. "About two years into the war, we made a plan to capture her — and if not, to kill her. And so, a Republic fleet ambushed Revan's flagship over Sernipidal."

Trista nodded. "The report I found said that Malak's own flagship arrived part of the way through and fired on Revan's bridge. That's why people presumed she was dead."

Zez-Kai Ell leaned back in his chair, still focusing on a spot just past her head. "Yes. He fired on the bridge while our strike team faced her. Of the eight we sent, only one returned — but she brought Revan, greviously injured, with her. According to that Jedi, Revan had shielded the bridge when Malak fired on her, and she must have made one small miscalculation. That Jedi then spared Revan at significant personal cost. And this is where I dissented from the Council."

Trista frowned. Revan didn't make miscalculations. Not like that, at least.

"I believed we should speak with her. Revan is high strung, yes, but above that, she is logical. Pragmatic. Something must have predicated her fall into darkness. After all, it was clear, even as a child, that she held little regard for dogma. I may be wrong, but I doubt she would have been swayed to the dark easily.

"The Temple had cells capable of holding Sith even as powerful as Qel-Droma in his prime, so surely they would hold her. Perhaps we could convince her, help her heal from whatever it was that turned her. Maybe even bring her back to our side. A Force user as powerful as Revan could have single-handedly ended the war in less than three years, as she nearly did.

"I remembered her as a child. Her strength and passion had always been a threat, but her intelligence so often kept her from going too far. Her behavior in the wars... war brings out the worst in everyone, including Jedi, and some attributed her actions to this. But I have always wondered if, perhaps, we do not prepare Initiates for the stress of the combat -- to shield themselves against the emotions it invokes. And yet, Revan's fall did not seem to come from that source. There was something in her words, in the deliberate nature of her actions, that hinted at deeper causes."

Trista's increasing frown deepened, thinking back to her own questions about her sister's actions. "Because she held back."

He nodded, a brief wave of relief washing over his face. No doubt he didn't want to explain it himself.

"At all times as a Sith, as one of the most chaotic beings to exist in the galaxy… she held back. I knew there must be some reason for it, and—"

"You pitied her? Is that what you're saying?"

Zez-Kai Ell nodded, finally meeting her eyes again. "I understand you likely hate her, and no one would say she deserves mercy for what she has done. I wanted to understand what had driven her to this point — because perhaps that was a greater threat to us than Revan herself. We had feared such a thing for so long that we refused to act where we needed to, and thus we created what we feared.

"But the others had seen the carnage she and Malak were causing, and believed there was no time to coax her back from the darkness. So, my single voice of dissent was overruled and 'redemption' was chosen for her, and I have struggled with that for eight years. The details of it are irrelevant, at the moment." He paused, staring at that spot over her head again.

"Sometimes I wonder if Katarr, if everything that has happened to the Jedi, was not some punishment from the Force. You could not deny Revan's power — the Force eddied around her as she moved through the world. Perhaps, in its own way, the Force sought to cull those that afflicted one of its own so harshly. Perhaps I've merely wished that was the case, to feel as if some justice has been done, or some punishment delivered for it. But if that were the case... it should have been the Council that suffered, not the Order. What happened to Revan was our fault, and I am the only one left who will accept that responsibility."

Trista sat in stunned silence as Zez-Kai Ell spoke and, after he fell silent, cleared her throat. But even after that, it took a moment for speak through the thoughts whirling in her head.

What the hell. What the hell. It echoed like a mantra. She hated Revan, likely more than anyone. Whatever had happened at Malachor, her own sister had placed her there, knowing it would happen because Revan always knew.

But this, what Zez-Kai Ell was describing... if what he was saying was true, and she had little reason to doubt him, how had the Council forced her into redemption? She knew there were Force techniques to dominate a person's will, to twist them into compliance, but would they even work on someone as powerful as Revan?

And above all else, how could the Jedi High Council, who touted themselves as the impartial guardians of truth, justice, morality, life, and whatever else they'd added while she was gone, think that doing such a thing wasn't an affront to everything they stood for?

That it wasn't an example of the Dark Side they so feared?

Her voice was quiet as it emerged, almost hesitant. "What did they do?"

He shook his head. "I do not know the details. I wanted nothing to do with it, so I was pushed aside. But she did not choose to return to the Jedi, nor to remain with them after Malak's death. Even though she was given back her rank she was never more than a prisoner, and she knew that. And I believe that is one reason, of many, that she fled."

Trista drew a deep breath. "Thank you for telling me. You're sure there's nothing more you can?"

"No. But know this — even when she was a Sith, I never believed she was beyond our help. Her actions were not the wanton slaughter of most Sith. The distinction between an act of Revan and one of Malak was stark. If we had spoken to her, no doubt she would have explained... and perhaps this would never have happened. But now we will never know." He sighed and shifted in his chair. "And we are worse off for it."

"But you were never Revan's master. Kavar was. Why would you—"

"I recognized too late that the problem was not with Revan, or Malak, or even you. The fault must be in our teachings. Had I recognized earlier..." He trailed off. "It still would not have helped."

They both sat in silence for a moment, the surrounding air almost heavy. There were a thousand more questions she needed to ask, but it was hard to pick them out of the swirling morass that now filled her. He wouldn't tell her any more — she knew her old master well enough to know that.

"If you..." She paused. "Then why did you exile me?"

Zez-Kai Ell sighed again. "We told you it was because you followed Revan to war, but you ask because you are no longer sure of that answer." She nodded. "Neither were we."

"Then why?"

"Your exile was the day I began questioning the Order. We exiled you, threw you to the galaxy with nothing, because we could not face the truth you showed us. And if we do not examine those truths, we are already lost.

"Trista, we exiled you because we were afraid. It is... difficult to live one's life with the Force, and then to see what severance from it is like."

"Then why choose Nar Shaddaa?"

"Nar Shaddaa is the nexus of many routes along the Outer Rim, and I had thought that here I would find some evidence of what our Order faced. I did not believe that the bounties on Jedi and our disappearances were connected, but there was a chance. And the strong currents of life here on Nar Shaddaa make perceiving a Force user difficult. I felt I could better cloak my movements, and watch without discovery."

But there was something else too, something she remembered from the way Atton spoke about Nar Shaddaa, that ate at her. "That's not all. You came here to hide."

He nodded. "Yes. I... It is hard to detect a Force user here, and I knew it. The threat we're facing... it leaves wounds in the Force where it strikes. It leaves nothing."

"And you were afraid of that."

"To live a life without the Force, to vanish, to die and leave just an echo — that was terrifying. To be connected to all life, then to have it stripped. I can only imagine what that was like, for you. But it runs deeper than that.

"On Nar Shaddaa it is impossible to escape the detritus of the Jedi Civil War. From the failure of the Masters, our failure to train Jedi, came disaster. There have been so many, all from teachers who believed in the Code with all their being. Master Arca failed Ulic, as Master Bass failed Exar Kun. As Kae and Kavar and Zhar — as all on the Council failed Revan, Malak... and you.

"For all we do to preserve the galaxy, and our arrogance that all we do is right and just, I wonder if there is a counter-effect that strikes back at us. Kun, Qel-Droma, Malak, Revan, you, the rest of the Revanchists... all Jedi. Like there is something wrong in the Force. A wound, a sound. Like a scream. You can hear it on Nar Shaddaa sometimes, when the moon is right. It is frightening to discover that, perhaps, being connected to all life is not enlightenment at all. That, as your sister once described it, it is just a cage that only breaks when we become aware of it."

Yeah, that sounded like Revan. "When did she say that?"

"A few months before she left. She grew bitter toward the end, though I cannot blame her. The over-caution of the Council stifled her, and Revan is not a being you stifle easily."

"Did she get into your head?" Revan had a stunning ability to do so, and she wouldn't be surprised if a doubting Zez-Kai Ell had fallen victim.

"No. I had doubts long before Revan returned to the Order, and she only echoed my own. I had wondered for some time if forsaking the Force as you did, cutting loose our bonds, may not be the wrong thing to do. You taught me something important in the Council Chamber long ago, and that has stayed with me all these years.

"And perhaps you were right."

Trista blinked. "I never expected you to say that."

That earned a chuckle from her old master. "I never expected to tell you that."

"But in the footage of my trial—"

"Oh, good, you found those records."

She stopped her train of thought. "What?"

"The galaxy needs fewer Jedi secrets," he answered with a shrug.

"Well, on that we agree. But after I left, after I was exiled — you said something happened to me."

He nodded. "I do not have an answer for you, Trista. We vowed to not speak of it again and, though I would not keep promises to the Order, I will keep promises I made to friends. And Kavar was, and is, my friend. If we gathered as one again, then it may be revoked. Until then, I cannot say anything."

"But you told me about Revan."

"Because what we did to Revan — the agreement was to protect the Council from their own cowardice. This, this is something else."

"Okay. Um... one other question. As a personal favor."

"Go ahead."

She explained the Force bond she and Kreia had developed, without too many details. Zez-Kai Ell listened attentively, nodding as she spoke.

"Yes, such bonds are often formed at moments of crisis. Or over time, like the bond between a master and student." He motioned between the two of them. "And it is always strongest, and most common, between beings sensitive to the Force. It allows the transmission of feelings, of influence. It is something you were gifted with before you lost your connection with the Force. You formed such attachments easier than most — even to those who could feel the Force only faintly. Even Vrook could not ignore it, which is saying something."

"But one where a sensation like pain is transmitted? Or that may be lethal?"

"Mm, yes. The strength is most unusual... and unnatural. I know of only one other bond possessing such strength."

"Vrook mentioned something like that, but he wouldn't give me more details." Zez-Kai Ell studied a screen for a moment. "Is it the same one?"

"Most likely."

"Did they survive Katarr?"

"Yes."

"Well, did they ever break it? How?"

"As far as I know they did not."

Trista frowned — and then her heart sank as she pieced together something he had said earlier.

"It was Revan, wasn't it?"

"And the Jedi that saved her life on her ship."

"Right." Trista ran her hand over her hair. "Frak."

"There are..." He shook his head. "The few with more knowledge of such bonds, their students were lost in the Mandalorian Wars. Revan studied them, especially after the Jedi Civil War, but I do not know if she learned how to sever them. The other half might know but, to my knowledge, they were never asked if the bond with Revan remained after she had left."

"Who were they? Would that Jedi—"

Trista stopped herself. No, she knew who that Jedi was. Of all the Jedi she'd heard of intrinsically linked to Revan, it could only be one. The one who claimed to know her best — a Force bond would be the only thing providing that finite certainty.

"Never mind. So at this point, I'd need to find Revan?"

"Unfortunately, that seems to be the case. A bond between two living beings is not easily broken."

"Yeah." Trista leaned back in her chair. "So... now what?"

"I suppose I must take up the role I wished to cast aside." Zez-Kai Ell stood with a sigh, and Trista joined him. "The threat has revealed itself, and we Jedi will need to stand together."

"We?" She shot him a skeptical look, and the edge of a smile flickered under his mustache.

"You seem to have found your way to the Force again, and you have already begun training another—"

"Two others, technically."

"Two others. And you moved through the Refugee Sector with the boldness a Jedi should. Even exiled, you were more a Jedi than I." After years of emotional turmoil over Malachor, how she'd left the Order, and everything she had gone through at the end of the Wars, hearing her old Master say anything about her, and sound proud about it... she coughed to hide a sniff and looked away.

"... thanks. But I know the pressure you were under to hide. I get it, I spent ten years running."

Zez-Kai Ell wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed, just for a second. "Anyone other than Vrook and Atris would be proud of what you did here."

She chuckled as Zez-Kai Ell let go.

"Vrook instructed us to gather at the Enclave once we had seen the threat for ourselves. That is where I will go, as soon as possible. But I will stay here for now, and ensure the refugees are not crushed immediately under another heel."

Trista hit the button, opening the door. To her surprise, the crew wasn't clustered about eavesdropping, though Atton was leaning against the door to the cockpit with his fingers hooked in his belt.

"Their leader is a man named Hussef. He'll know what they need." She paused in the hold. "There's a Toydarian who's agreed to get some refugees to Telos for me. If you can make sure that happens—"

"I will do what I can."

She nodded. "We shouldn't linger either. The Sith have been on us for weeks — I imagine they'll come running as soon as they hear about this, so you may only have a few days before they arrive. We should get ahead of them."

"No, you shouldn't stay. Fly safely."