CHAPTER 02 – CORUSCANT

Two Years Ago (3955)

"Have you ever had a dream that you were pretty sure is also a memory? I mean, probably not, but I'm almost positive that's what I've been experiencing." Vann forced a weak grin, completely aware that he wasn't making much sense. "These memories, they're not as clear as the ones that I recovered while we were searching for the Star Forge, but still…"

"I honestly have no kriffing clue what you're talking about." Canderous took a long swig of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "If this is some type of Force thing, you're talking to the wrong person. And by the way, you look like shit."

"Yes, thank you, I'm aware. I haven't been sleeping well, which is part of why I wanted to talk to you." As strange as it seemed, Vann was glad to hear the Mandalorian's insults. He had come to Canderous because the other man had always been honest, especially when it came to facts about the past. Right now, honesty was something that he desperately needed.

"Alright, you got me. I'm officially curious about why you called me here, of all places. I know you wouldn't get in contact unless it's an emergency."

Glancing around the dingy, dimly lit cantina Vann nodded. Amidst the slurred voices and stale air, it was hard to believe that they were actually on one of the lowest levels of Coruscant. "Well, this is the last place anyone is going to look for either of us. And besides, I have some other things to do while I'm here… None of it concerns, you, though."

"Then what do you need me for?"

Sighing, Vann leaned forward just a little, his shoulders relaxing into an easy slouch that made it look like he was just getting more comfortable in the cramped booth. "It's about my dreams. Memories, whatever. I'm pretty sure I'm remembering something important from the war, and you're the only one who can confirm my suspicions."

"What, Bastila and lover boy can't help you out?"

"Bastila was never part of active combat, so all of her information comes second-hand from Malak. Forgive me if I'm not about to believe anything that kriffing kath hound told her."

"Point taken. But what about Carth?" Chuckling darkly, Canderous shook his head. "He may try to deny it, but we were all in the same damn war."

The pilot's name caused a surge of frustration to wash over Vann, the emotion flowing coldly just beneath his skin. "Carth is… He understands war, don't get me wrong. He's a soldier, after all. But I get the sense that he never tells me the whole truth when I ask him things, like he's trying to gloss over some of the stuff that I did. He still wants me to think of myself as a hero and not…"

"Someone who made the hard calls, even when they didn't fit the Republic's moral ideals? Someone who knew how to win a war, even if it wasn't pretty and clean?"

"Exactly."

"Doesn't surprise me." Downing the contents of his drink, Canderous slammed the glass on the table with a grunt. "Carth cares a lot about you, even I can tell that much. But he's also the type who's going to try and protect you. And we both know that you're the last person in the galaxy who needs protecting."

"I don't think he means to hurt me, but…"

"He is. You don't need coddling, not about this at any rate. You need the truth."

"You're the only other person I know who was on the battlefield, in the thick of things who will tell me the truth about everything that I'm remembering."

Nodding thoughtfully, Canderous lowered his head to look Vann in the eyes. "We were on opposite sides of the war, but I'll do what I can to help you figure out these dreams. I'll tell you the truth, even if it's not what you want to hear."

"Good, that's what I was counting on." Drawing a breath, Vann began to describe everything that he'd been seeing in his visions, the images clouded and murky at first but growing clearer the longer he spoke. At first, his words were halting and unsure, but he could feel his voice growing more confident as his missing memories gradually began to slot into place. As he spoke, Canderous started to watch him more intently, the other man's brow creasing thoughtfully at the description of the impossible columns of ice that soared above a frozen landscape, each one several kilometers tall and topped with a flat plateau that sparkled beneath an alien sun. Though the details were still vague, each one gleaned during fits and bursts of stolen sleep, the longer Vann talked the more his friend's eyes shone with a knowing glimmer.

"Wait, slow down and say that again. The part about the mountains." Canderous rubbed his palm over his scarred chin. "But leave out all the Force crap about what you 'sense' in your mind."

"They're not mountains, they're ice. Two solid columns. I don't know how I can tell, but I just can." Looking down at his hands, Vann flexed his fingers. "I can practically feel the coldness seeping through my gloves and the wind blowing off my hood as I scale the sides."

"Twin columns? You absolutely sure about that?"

"I can still count to two."

"Yeah, yeah, no need to get smart with me."

"You know something. So, are you going to explain it?"

"Right here and right now?" Glancing around, Canderous shook his head. "Nope."

Irritation washed over Vann, and he gritted his teeth as he glared at the other man. He could feel his anger jolting through his system, the cold crackle of it leaving the taste of ozone on his tongue. "You just said that you would tell me the truth!"

"And I am, calm down or you're going to blow both of our covers!" The very corner of Canderous's mouth twitched nervously. "I can't tell you what I'm not sure of myself."

Drawing a slow breath, Vann tried to clear his mind and push past the exhaustion that was fraying his temper. "Fine. But are you going to tell me anything? Or was this just a waste of our time?"

"It's not a waste, I can tell you that much. But before I say anything else I want to get out of here and run some of this past one of my contacts. It'll take a few days, but if my suspicions are right it'll be worth the wait."

"Alright. Fine, that's fine." Vann groaned as he rubbed one eye with his knuckle. "Like I said, I have some things to handle around here. It might take a day or two anyway, so I don't mind waiting. Actually, it might be nice to spend a few days away from everything."

"Is Bastila that annoying?"

"No. Well… It's everything. The students, the enclave, the Republic base. It wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't assaulted by memories every time I try to get some Sith-damned sleep."

Canderous shifted uncomfortably. "Did… you want to talk about it?"

"I already told you everything I've been dreaming. As for the rest of it… No, not really."

There was a long pause before Canderous stated, "You're not a bad leader Vann. Just because you don't remember being Revan doesn't mean that you're not still him. So, stop beating yourself up over it."

"I'm not…" But the objection died on his lips. He was currently experiencing all of the doubts that the Mandalorian had tried to assuage. "Well, thanks I guess."

"I'm speaking the truth just like I told you I'd do. And now I've said my piece." Sitting back, Canderous waved to the waitress as he gestured to his empty glass and then indicated that he wanted two more of the same. She nodded, and he gave her a few credits and a flirty wink as she wandered off to get the order.

"So, now what?"

"Now I'm going to get you drunk because you look like you could use the sleep that comes with a good night of drinking."

"In the Republic, we call that 'passing-out,' but at this point I'll take it." Grinning at the Mandalorian as their drinks arrived, Vann picked up his glass. The contents were almost enough to make his eyes water, but he didn't hesitate to raise a toast. "To your contact. I hope they have some good information."

Canderous nodded and lifted his own drink. "And to us, cause I'm guessing that you're about to drag me on another kriffing adventure."

They both laughed at this before taking a long gulp, each of them wincing as the alcohol burned its way down.

While Vann's memory was admittedly limited, he was fairly sure that this was one of the worst hangovers he'd ever experience. Most of his night with Canderous was a complete blur, and he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten back to the Hawk when it was all over. Despite being awake for nearly two standard hours his head was still pounding, his stomach was churning, and his mouth constantly felt like it was stuffed with bantha wool.

"Ugh, why do I do this to myself?" Rubbing his temples, Vann sighed as he miserably chewed on the ration bar in his hands. "I mean, besides the fact that I'm an idiot."

"Boop-bee-boop." T3-M4 offered helpfully.

Taking another sad bite, Vann eyed the droid. "I'm pretty sure that wasn't polite. But if you'd like to repeat yourself, please say it slower and quieter."

"Whoo-beep!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought." The pair were currently in the Hawk's main hold as Vann used the various computers to review maps of Coruscant, specifically the building he was planning to infiltrate. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of public information. "Do me a favor and see if you can find anything else in the Republic databases I have access to. And, uh, use Carth's credentials if you need them. He won't mind."

"Bee-boo-boop-whoop?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I'm going to change clothes and try to feel Human again."

After a longer than average session in the sonic and the consumption of about twice his normal ration of water, Vann felt mostly functional again. Even better, T3-M4 had found some new information.

"Are you sure this is accurate?"

"Boo-bee-bee-boop."

"A yes or no would work, mostly because that would be easier for me to understand. I'm still learning, okay?" Looking down at the datapad in his hands, Vann flipped through a few diagrams as he nodded to himself. "Either way, these should help. Thanks, buddy!"

"Boo-whoop!"

Tucking the datapad away, Vann straightened his clothing and tried to ensure that he looked like someone vaguely respectable but suitably nondescript. It was strange to be missing the ponytail that he had taken to wearing a few years back, but keeping his hair down helped to hide his more distinct facial features. With a final rub of his freshly-shaved cheek he sighed, shrugged, and accepted that this was probably as good as he was going to get. He still felt like he was a fraud, wearing the name and the clothing of a person who he was only pretending to be.

Granted, today he was actually pretending to be someone else, so for once that feeling was accurate.

As he tugged up his hood, Vann lowered the Hawk's landing ramp and glanced around the bay where he was docked. Nobody seemed to be in his immediate vicinity, so he quickly exited the ship and headed away from the port at a quick pace before someone noticed him or realized what he was planning. The Force must have been with him that day because nobody on the bustling streets gave him a second glance. He was able to hail a transport to the city's upper levels without incident, slipping the driver a few extra credits for not making awkward conversation or asking unnecessary questions.

But then, considering how he was currently dressed, it was unsurprising that most sentients had little to say.

Now close to the political heart of the Republic, Vann pulled his hood up a little higher and kept his head bowed, aware that this was where he was most likely to be recognized. A few pedestrians did pause and greet him, but their presences didn't feel overly familiar within the Force and it seemed they were just being polite. One Pantoran in formal attire did pause and give him a second glance, but he hurried past the woman before she had a chance to realize who she was looking at. From that point on he moved at a faster pace, only stopping when he reached his destination.

The Jedi temple somehow felt larger and more imposing than the last time Vann had been there just after his battle with Malak on the Star Forge. At that point he'd been in a daze as Republic officials dragged him between offices and meetings, trying to determine what to do with him now that he was alive again but still missing most of his memories. The temple had only been a brief stop in a series of hectic days and he hadn't been able to fully appreciate it. But now he was making up for the lost opportunity as he craned his head back and stared at the processional stairway that led to towering bas-reliefs marking the main entrance to the temple. There were other Jedi strolling up and down the steps and he quickly lowered his head to avoid being identified. Drawing a breath, he carefully ascended the stairs and made his way into the building.

Vann was honestly surprised that nobody stopped him once he was inside, though he supposed that meant his disguise was adequate. Most of his current clothing was left from his first visit to Dantooine, back when the Jedi were still attempting to return him to their Order. The rest had been carefully borrowed from other residents of the Rakata enclave specifically with this task in mind. While the rouse felt obvious to him, nobody else noticed that he didn't belong. A few Knights even nodded in greeting when he strode past, while a pair of younger Padawans muttered giggled apologies after nearly running into him while sprinting down a corridor.

The layouts that T3-M4 uncovered proved incredibly useful, enabling Vann to navigate the hallways without much trouble. He was looking for one specific room, a task that ended up carrying him through half of the towering building. The longer he was here, the more he noticed how strongly the Force pulsed, a dazzling glow of brilliant light that touched everyone and everything contained inside of the temple. It infused him, helping to chase away some of his trepidation as he entered the archives and quietly slipped towards an open computer terminal tucked into one corner of the massive room.

"Alright," he muttered. "Who was I?" Inputting a few commands, Vann began to search through any files that mentioned Revan, the Revanchists, or the Mandalorian Wars. Most of the recent documents contained information that he already knew but as he searched further back he uncovered new details, mentally filing each one away.

Unfortunately, his search was hampered sooner than anticipated. "Classified? What the kriff? What are you trying to hide?" While Vann wasn't surprised that his own limited credentials didn't get him much further, the fact that Bastila's user information yielded the same results worried him. He knew for a fact that she had never been completely removed from the temple's system, mostly because the Padawan had complained about it a few weeks prior.

"Malachor Five? Why is this classified?" Slipping a few spikes out of his sleeve, Vann searched the Force to ensure that he wasn't being watched before shoving one into the computer's port. The overload of garbage data immediately began to weaken the security, and a second spike was enough to reveal multiple files that were previously unavailable. "Meetra Surik, where have I heard that name before?" Bringing up a few more files about the Revanchists, he realized that her name was repeated several times along with Revan and Malak.

"So, I knew her. Huh. Wonder why I haven't met her yet?" The obvious answer made Vann wince. If she was one of Malak's loyal followers, then she had probably fallen after the war. While he didn't recognize her name from any of the subsequent Republic trials or the list of fugitives that Bastila was still hunting down, that didn't mean she'd come out of the situation unscathed. "Hells, she might even be dead."

Now morbidly curious and filled with more than a little guilt, Vann switched the subject of his search from himself to Surik. "Awarded the rank of general. Served the Order as a Consular prior to the war. Current status is… unknown?" Hurriedly sorting through the new list of files that he'd uncovered, he scanned the contents as he tried to get a better sense of who this mystery woman was. Unfortunately, most of her records were encrypted and hidden behind security walls. "Huh. Well, I guess a little more persuasion is necessary." Shoving another spike into the computer's port, he typed in a few codes and then watched as more information was revealed.

"The Mass Shadow Generator? Is this a superweapon? What the karking Sith shit…!" Just as he was about to open another file, the power to his computer abruptly cut out.

"What are you doing here?"

Lost in his research Vann hadn't noticed someone approaching him, though he was now quite aware of her presence as she was currently holding the power cord to the console he had been utilizing. "Who the hells are you?"

"Eloquent as ever, Revan." Pale blue eyes glared icily as a figure dressed in pure white robes stared down in contempt. Her skin was pale, inhumanly so, and her hair was the color of silvery moonlight. "I assumed that you don't remember me. I am Jedi Master Atris, keeper of the archives."

"Ah. So… How did you know it was me?"

Scoffing at the question, Atris dropped the cord. "I recognized your Force presence. It is quite unique, after all. Additionally, you're the only person who would ever think it was appropriate to sneak into the Jedi Temple and slice the archives."

"Honestly, would you have shown me the files I wanted if I just asked?"

Snatching the spike out of the port, Atris scowled. "Absolutely not!"

"Which is what I assumed would be the answer." Standing from his seat, Vann tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Hence the slicing."

"Absolutely unbelievable! You gave up your right to read these archives the moment that you left the Jedi Order and started your own abomination of an enclave…"

"I technically didn't start anything…"

"…And you gave up your right to know anything about her the moment that you issued the order to use the Mass Shadow Generator."

"Her… You mean Meetra Surik? So, you knew her?"

"I don't know if I'm amused or appalled that you don't remember her." Though Atris chuckled the sound was hollow and pained, sorrow welling up coldly around her. "You broke her, ruined her, turned her into a murderer and you probably can't even recall her face."

Gritting his teeth, Vann narrowed his eyes at the Jedi Master. "It's not like I tried to forget."

"No, but it certainly is convenient. You fell, dragged good Jedi down with you, and then escaped any consequences of your actions all while being hailed as the Republic's greatest hero. And after everything you did, you don't even have to live with the weight of your own decisions."

The Master's words cut Vann down to his core, prodding at all of the lingering insecurities that he'd been harboring. But one thing she said stood out, potentially answering a question that had been nagging him for over a year now. "How do you know for a fact that I fell?"

"Look at yourself, it should be obvious. You're slicing into the Jedi archives to research your own deeds and actions. How much more proof do you need of your own pride and arrogance?"

"I'm slicing into the archives because…!" A cold surge of outrage crept through Vann's body, and he had to pause to try and rein in the sensation. "I'm here because I'm trying to learn more about who I was."

"You're Revan, the hero of the Republic and an absolute fraud."

Vann wanted to scream and he almost did, but a flicker of emotion flowing around Atris gave him pause. It wasn't the disgust and indifference that she was exuding in torrents, but something subtler and far sadder. Regret perhaps, or even disappointment at something that never came to be. "Did you know me?"

"Everyone knew of you."

"No, I mean, did you know me personally?" Atris's uncomfortable silence was all the confirmation that Vann needed. "You did, I can tell! Then maybe you can answer a few questions so that I don't have to slice your precious archives. What exactly was the Mass Shadow Generator? And what happened to Meetra Surik when she activated it?"

Atris blinked slowly, her already haughty expression turning to stone. "Why don't you go and ask your enclave these questions, Revan? Or your lover?"

"Because I'm asking you, dammit!"

"Get out. You don't belong in this temple, not anymore. I'm only giving you one warning before I call the guards."

"Oh, for kriff sake!"

"Out!" Her voice rising to a shout, Atris jabbed her finger towards the archives' imposing doors. "Go back to playing teacher and leave the rest of us in peace."

Gritting his teeth, Vann tossed the Jedi a cocky grin before giving her a mock salute. "I'm leaving, okay? So, calm down and release all of those negative feelings that you're not supposed to have. Remember, there is no emotion." With a snort, he turned and marched out of the room without looking back.

From the hallway, Vann could feel the cold rush of Atris's indignant anger and he couldn't help but chuckle triumphantly, even as his personal doubts intensified with every step he took. The rest of his trip out of the enclave barely registered in his mind, even when he noticed a few of the Jedi and their Padawans openly staring at him as he stalked past. Once out on the street, he brushed the hood from his head, suddenly uncaring who saw him walking through Coruscant dressed in robes that he had no business wearing. Maybe everyone would finally realize that he would never be the Revan that they remembered.

Vann's journey back to the Ebon Hawk's docking bay was uneventful, the same handful of questions running through his mind the entire journey. Who was Meetra Surik? Why did I authorize the use of a superweapon? What happened to her? What did I do…?

When he reached the ship T3-M4 was waiting for him, though he brushed the little droid aside with a terse smile before heading towards the comm unit. Sitting down, he opened up a private channel and waited. It didn't take long for a familiar figure to appear on the screen.

"Vann, is that… What are you wearing?"

He'd almost forgotten that he was still dressed like a Jedi. Ignoring the question, he looked at the image of his partner and shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me that I authorized the use of a kriffing superweapon, Carth?!"

There was a long pause, the pilot's features visibly pained as he considered his answer. "How did you find out?"

"I found out from Atris, the esteemed keeper of the Jedi archives and the one person who's more of a condescending asshole than Vrook Lamar. The Echani arts have apparently made her flexible enough for her head to permanently reside up her chalk-white ass." Vann snorted at the memory of the Jedi's haughty demeanor.

"Wait, you went to the Jedi temple? How did you even…?"

"That's not the point, Carth. Right now we're talking about the fact that you should have been the one to tell me that I used a superweapon! You should have sat me the hells down and explained that the reason you've been so damn evasive towards answering my questions about the war is that you didn't want to admit that I'm not just 'Revan the Butcher.' I'm 'Revan the Kriffing Mass-Murderer!'"

"Vann…"

"Who's Meetra Surik? What else do you know that you're not telling me?!"

Scrubbing his palm across his forehead, Cath drew a long breath before nodding weakly. "Alright, I guess we're having this conversation from millions of kilometers away." Slumping in his seat, he explained, "Along with you and Malak, General Meetra Surik was one of the leaders of the Revanchists. Together, the three of you commanded the Republic Mercy Corps."

Cold panic seized Vann's chest. "Is she dead? Did I get her killed? Is that why nobody has mentioned her until now?"

"I honestly don't know. From what I've heard, she was cast out of the Jedi Order at the end of the war. She never followed Malak, and I don't think she was even in Republic space when he came to power. Nobody has mentioned her because nobody likes to talk about Malachor Five."

That was the same planet mentioned in the sealed Jedi documents attached to Revan's name. "What happened at Malachor? Tell me!"

"Like you said, you authorized the use of a superweapon. I… I don't know the details. I wasn't part of that battle and most of it is highly classified. All I know is that you gave the order for General Surik to use something called the Mass Shadow Generator. And then…"

"Then what, Carth?" Vann demanded, on the verge of panic. "What did I do?"

"The Mass Shadow Generator apparently worked as planned. Almost everyone involved in the massive fleet battle around Malachor Five, Republic and Mandalorian alike, was killed and the planet was nearly destroyed in the process. In a single instant, thousands of lives were lost and you won the war."

"I won the war? That's all you can say?"

Carth had been unusually impassive as he described the situation, expression neutral and each word spoken in the practiced tone of a disciplined navel captain. But all of that quickly melted away, replaced with a mixture of sorrow and exasperation as he nearly shouted, "Yes! You defeated Mandalore the Ultimate and destroyed a good portion of his troops in a single, pivotal battle. Malachor Five was where you won the war for the Republic!"

"By killing everyone there."

The pilot's expression softened. "You made a choice, Vann. I honestly don't know if, in your position, I would have chosen differently. After all, the thousands of lives lost on Malachor probably prevented millions, if not billions more from dying later."

Vann scoffed. "That's very utilitarian of you."

"I didn't say it was a good choice or a kind choice! But it's the choice you made, and I'm not going to apologize for being happy that the Republic won." Sighing heavily, Carth leveled his gaze at his partner as best he could through the comm unit. "No matter how many memories you get back, you can't change your past."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Vann's voice was barely a whisper.

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Cath cried, "Because I knew this would happen! You've been too hard on yourself lately, between the students and the nightmares…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've just… You have such high expectations for yourself, and you're taking on a lot of responsibility by agreeing to teach others all while trying to regain your own memories. You're under a lot of stress and I didn't think you were ready to learn that you used a superweapon."

Ice surged through Vann's body as he demanded, "Who are you to determine that?"

"Someone who cares about you!" Affection washed over Carth's face, his voice growing gentler. "Look, I swear that I was going to tell you when you were in a better place."

"Oh, and when would that be?"

"Maybe when you can get more than three hours of sleep a night. Or maybe when Bastila doesn't overhear you calling yourself a fraud in your own mind. Or maybe when you start actually talking to me about what's going on in that head of yours instead of just bottling it all up inside!"

"I'm sorry I'm too kriffed up for you to be honest with, Carth! Unfortunately, we can't all shoot our problems in the head and get a happy reunion." It was a low blow, but it still felt satisfying to see the hurt bloom in his partner's eyes.

"Vann!"

"Kriff you and kriff all of your Sith damned secrets that you think you're holding back to protect me!" He jabbed his finger at the monitor to emphasize his point.

"Vann, please…"

"No. I don't want to hear it."

Carth's tone was desperate as he insisted, "Look, I'm sorry! I'm sorry and I lo…"

Switching off the comm unit with an irritated flick of his wrist, Vann didn't hear the rest of the apology. Truthfully, he wasn't ready to listen, mostly because hearing his partner say things like 'I love you' and 'I only worry about you because you mean so much to me' tended to cut through his resolve to stay angry. At this moment he needed that anger and he dove deeper into the frigid fury, using it as a barrier to ward off the guilt that was threatening to consume him. He slouched in his seat and drew a shaky breath, his hands unsteady as he raked them through his still-loose hair.

Vann wanted to tell himself that he'd made a mistake in using the Mass Shadow Generator. From everything that Atris and Carth had told him, he had taken thousands of lives and ruined at least one more. Meetra Surik, whoever she was and wherever she might be, would probably never forgive him for the order he gave. But at the same time, Carth was right. (And damn him for that.) It was a brutal decision, but it prevented the war from being dragged out into a series of endless skirmishes that could have lasted years, if not decades. He knew a Mandalorian and was well aware that they were a tenacious people. Even with Mandalore the Ultimate dead, he had no doubt they would have rallied and continued to fight.

He'd won the war for the Republic, but at what cost?

As Vann trudged through the Hawk, shedding parts of his disguise as he went, he considered his options. The Jedi in him believed that he should sit and meditate on everything he had learned, examining his emotions towards the situation before releasing them into the Force. But the mercenary in him saw a different solution, and that was to get ridiculously drunk despite still being mildly hungover from the night before. He eventually collapsed into one of the bunks to consider his options, slowly tracing the scar that ran down his abdomen from beneath the right side of his ribcage to just above the jut of his left hip.

"I won the war and I lost myself." He laughed bitterly. "But I saved the entire kriffing Republic, so I guess it's a small price to pay?"

Moisture filled his eyes and he tried to blink it away, only for a sob to catch in his throat. His mind was too tumultuous to even consider meditation, and drinking himself into a stupor sounded like a distinctly terrible idea. Instead, he buried his face in his pillow and screamed until the tears stopped flowing and he slipped into an uneasy, exhausted sleep.

"Before I tell you what I found you, I need you to promise me that you'll keep your mouth shut and not go blabbing any of this to Carth. Deal?"

"Trust me, that's not an issue." Vann glared across the table at Canderous, a fresh burst of rage rushing through his body at the mention of his partner's name. It had been four days and he was still angry at the other man for not telling him about Malachor and the Mass Shadow Generator. While Rakata Base had made several attempts to contact the Ebon Hawk in that time, all of the transmissions had gone unanswered.

While he waited to hear from Canderous, Vann had spent his time walking around the various levels of Coruscant hoping that some random sight, sound, or smell would trigger the return of some memories. There had been a few brief flashes here and there, mostly of him and a dark-haired teenage boy sneaking around while laughing at their own cleverness, their shoulders pressed close as blue eyes stared down at him with obvious admiration. But overall the experiment hadn't yielded the desired results.

Now he and Canderous were back at the same sleazy mercenary bar they'd originally used almost a week ago. He hoped that this meeting would prove more successful than his useless wandering.

"Trouble with the captain?"

Vann didn't want to drag the Mandalorian into his personal problems, but he couldn't help but grumble, "Malachor Five. He purposely didn't tell me about it and I found out on my own."

Canderous winced. "Damn, glad I wasn't around for that conversation."

"I'm assuming you also knew?"

"Of course I know about Malachor! There isn't a Mandalorian that lived through the war who doesn't tell the tale of how Revan defeated us in a single day." Canderous's eyes grew distant. "Sometimes I wish I'd been there, part of a decisive battle that will be remembered for centuries to come."

"If you were there you'd probably be dead," Vann quipped sardonically.

"Better to fall in battle as a warrior than to rot away with no honor and no purpose."

Noting the Mandalorian's increasing melancholy, Vann quickly shifted the conversation. "So, why did you never mention all of this before?"

"I assumed that someone else told you about Malachor, or that you remembered on your own." Shaking his head in visible disapproval, Canderous muttered, "Hells, I would have said something if I knew."

"Well, now I know and I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Expression stern, Canderous held the other man's gaze as he stated, "You shouldn't be ashamed of winning a war."

"People need to stop telling me that!" More than ready to stop talking about Malachor, Vann hurriedly asked, "Anyway, what did you find out from your contact while I was off learning new and terrifying things about myself?"

"Like I said, you need to promise me that this information stays between the two of us."

"Deal."

"Alright. The place you've been dreaming about? It's an ice-world called Rekkiad in the Chorlian sector. Not normally the type of place that would catch my interest, but…" Leaning in close, Canderous lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Some of the remaining clans have been gathering there recently. They suspect that you hid something there at the end of the war, and they're going to find it."

"Oh no, what did I do now?"

"Relax, you only killed one person this time and you already knew about it. When you defeated Mandalore the Ultimate in single combat, you also took his mask before you left the battlefield. You knew how important that helmet is to my people, and that if we possessed it we would have chosen a new Mand'alor that very day. But without a new leader, the clans had no direction after their defeat. They scattered across the Outer Rim."

"And you think that I hid the mask on Rekkiad?"

"I'm almost positive that you did."

Noting the sly grin spreading across Canderous's face, Vann scowled. "You think that I'm going to help you find it!"

"I don't presume to know what you're planning at any given moment. But I also think that you're aware my people will search every centimeter of that planet for the mask until we discover it, even if it takes a thousand years."

Vann couldn't deny any of this. "If… When you find that mask, what are the Mandalorians going to do with it?"

"Mandalore's Mask has been passed from one leader to the next for generations. With it, we can select a new Mand'alor and reunite the clans."

"Just like you've been trying to do ever since I met you on Taris." Realization struck Vann and an idea began to form in his mind.

"Exactly. But a leader chosen by our traditions will have the respect and clout among the clans that I never had. A new Mand'alor will not only be able to reunite the clans, but to give them a purpose."

"Preferably a purpose that's not attacking the Republic. I really don't think your people want to face me a second time."

Canderous chuckled. "Probably not, though I'm sure a few would relish the challenge."

"If I help your clan get that mask, you have to make me a promise."

"Vann, I told you on Rakata that I'm your man until the end. My word is my bond."

"Good. If I get you that mask you have to make sure that it goes to someone deserving, not another warmonger. I don't care if it's someone who reunites the clans and preserves your people's traditions, but it can't be another leader who wants to use the Mandalorians to conquer the galaxy or grind the weak under their boot." Looking solemnly at the other man, Vann drew a slow breath. "Swear that this mask will go to someone truly worthy and not just whoever's stronger or meaner than everyone else, and I'll do whatever I can to find it for you."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Canderous seemed thoughtful, considering the question for a few moments before nodding in agreement. "That's fair, I accept."

"Great. Finish your drink and we can head to the Hawk."

"Why the rush? I'm just getting comfortable. Besides, I figured we could get some of the old crew back together. It might be useful to have the kid and the carpet in on this."

"That's not happening because, aside from the droids, we're the only two crewmembers who don't have some type of official job." The acknowledgment made Vann wince.

"You're shitting me, right?"

"Juhani and Jolee are teaching back on Rakata and have students, literal students who make noise and ask questions and… expect me to know things. Bastila is trying to make some sort of peace with the Jedi Council while still hunting down Malak's escaped followers. Zaalbar is helping his father rule their tribe while hunting for his traitor of a brother. Oh, and don't get me started on Mission…"

"What, did she finally turn to a life of crime?"

"Worse, I think she's working for the Republic's Intelligence Division. But Carth can't officially confirm or deny anything, which means I'm right. And well, you know what Captain Onasi is up to. The kriffing bantha brain…"

"So, I guess it's just you and me?"

Smiling brightly, Vann added, "Plus Tee-Three and H-Kay."

"You are not bringing that psychotic droid with us…"

"Relax, he can stay on the ship as back-up. But I still brought him along in case I need a little extra firepower."

"Fine. But we're not leaving just yet, I need at least one more drink." Downing the contents of the glass he'd been nursing since Vann's arrival, Canderous grimaced at the burn. "After all, it's not every day that a guy heads out to see his wife for the first time in over a year."

"Wife?You're married?"

"Oh yeah, got ourselves a kid and everything. A little complicated on that front since the war but, eh. Once they get to a certain age they get a mind of their own." Noticing the other man's shocked expression he wondered, "Haven't I ever told you any of this?"

"No!"

"How do you think I sniffed out you and Carth before the rest of the idiots? I know what it's like to fall in love with a fellow warrior. Veela… She's great." A dreamy look crossed Canderous's face as a fond smile tugged at his lip. "She knows at least four ways to kill a Human while completely unarmed. Being with a person who can crush your windpipe with her thighs? It does things to you when you're down there…"

Vann waved his hands to halt his friend's current description. "Okay, I get the idea! So, you have an extremely deadly wife… Who I'm going to meet. And who probably hates me on principle."

"Yeah, you're going to want to stick with Vann Chis and not 'Revan' around Clan Ordo. But you're probably more mercenary than Jedi at this point, so it's not exactly a stretch. Just keep your lightsabers hidden and carry a blaster. You've still got one of those right?"

"Somewhere. Probably. I can pick one up before we head out, and I definitely have the parts to modify one to my specifications back on the Hawk." Glancing down at his hands, Vann marveled, "Force, I can't believe I still remember how I like to adjust my scope and trigger."

"See, no problem!" Canderous gestured for the waitress to bring out another round of liquor. "Tonight, we drink. And then tomorrow we head for Rekkiad."

Sighing, Vann resigned himself to another hangover in the morning. "We'll find that mask and reunite your people… If your wife doesn't kill me first."

Author's Notes

Thank you for reading. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

You can find me on Twitter (ergo_maria) and Tumblr (ergomaria).

1. Surprise, it's Vann's POV! Unlike No Light without Shadows (which had interlude chapters from the rest of the crew), this story will switch between Meetra and Vann to cover the events leading up to Vann's disappearance.

2. This takes place about 2-3 months after No Light's epilogue. Obviously, Vann's nightmares have gotten worse and he's not in as good a place. The fact that he's suffering from a bad case of imposter syndrome was alluded to in the epilogue, but it's more obvious here.

3. Vann didn't speak binary on No Light. He's still learning it as of this story.

4. This chapter obviously features the huge argument that Carth mentioned in the previous chapter.

5. I'm fairly sure you know who the boy with blue eyes and dark hair is.