Part 1

Revan.

The voice was barely audible, on the very edge of his consciousness, but it was enough to jerk him out of the half-sleeping state he had sunk into without even realising. "Yes?" he called out automatically, his eyes darting around the dimly-lit room. There was no one there, and not a sound to be heard except the faint, ever-present drone of the ventilation system.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Had someone really whispered his name? Of course not, it had been an illusion, a product of his own overtired and agitated mind. It had been happening more and more often, lately... He sighed and lay back, shivering slightly despite the warmth of the room.

He couldn't remember when he had last slept well, or woken up feeling truly refreshed. Night after restless night he would toss and turn for hours in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position, always either too hot or too cold. Meditation didn't help – every time he tried to clear his mind the thoughts would come rushing back, a thousand fears and memories overwhelming his attempts to calm himself. He couldn't find peace now, even in the Force...

Even when he eventually drifted off to sleep it would come only in short bursts, filled with shadowy figures and crying voices. And faces – enemies he had killed, friends he had seen die in front of him, people he had tried to save and failed... When he awoke he would feel more tired than ever, his body aching all over, his limbs heavy as lead.

Despite his attempts to hide how ill he felt, he knew that the effects of these sleepless nights were beginning to show. His friends were starting to look at him with concern, and a few had even approached him about it – but he brushed aside their well-meaning enquiries, insisting that there was nothing wrong. He didn't really feel he could confide in anyone – not even Malak, his closest friend. Besides, Malak himself had seemed somewhat distant and preoccupied lately.

Revan knew how the other Jedi looked up to him, even those far older than he was. He was their leader, their hero, who had single-handedly changed the course of a war that threatened to destroy the Republic. How could he tell them that he now slept with the light on like a child, because he feared what he saw in the shadows? That he felt as if he were staring down into a gaping abyss, fighting a losing battle against the invisible forces dragging him gradually, inexorably closer to the edge?

"Revan, you need a rest." That had been the blunt assessment put forward by Admiral Dodonna, leader of the Republic's military forces, when he had last seen her. He had managed to dissuade her, even as he realised in his heart that she was right. There was nothing he would like more than to return to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and simply collapse, letting the calm and peace of the Light Side wash over him, feeling the Force cleanse him of the darkness that boiled up within him. But he couldn't leave the war now, just as it was drawing to a close – the troops needed him, the Republic needed him. He had to finish what he had started.

He smiled faintly. In his mind's eye he could see himself as he had been at the start of the war – the confident, idealistic young man, filled with energy and an almost religious fervour as he begged for recruits to his noble cause. Only four years ago, but it felt more like four decades. What had happened to him since then?

Reality had intruded, that was what. The man who had spent most of his life at a training academy on a peaceful Outer Rim planet had suddenly found himself responsible for countless millions of lives – soldiers, civilians, other Jedi. He had been forced to make agonising, impossible decisions, and to see their effects first-hand. Tactics that he would once have found horrifying – playing games of numbers, balancing a few thousand lives lost against another few thousand saved, abandoning and sacrificing entire worlds for the sake of a strategic victory – had now become almost routine.

What would the Revan of four years ago think of his future self? He shivered again. Probably best to avoid thinking about it, and keep telling himself as always that the end justified the means, that all the deaths would be worth it when the war was finally won. If he could only remember what he was fighting for any more...

He rolled over again, wincing in pain as the mattress rubbed against a bruise on his side. A month or so ago, during an undercover mission on a deserted planet suspected of harbouring a Mandalorian communications base, he and the other soldiers with him had been ambushed and captured. Luckily his captors hadn't realised who he was, and he had managed to escape – but not before suffering a severe beating. Even after weeks of medical treatment, the wounds had still not entirely healed.

Since then, the panicked Republic high command had barely let him out of their sight. He had been refused permission to participate in any further combat or reconnaissance missions; instead he was confined to one of the capital ships, helping to direct battles and offering tactical advice to both subordinate and superior officers. Although he had reluctantly accepted that it was for the best, knowing that the Republic could not afford to lose him at this stage, he constantly chafed against the restrictions placed on him. Despite all his training, patience had never been one of Revan's virtues - he wanted to be out there with the other Jedi, in the thick of battle, not sitting in a command centre issuing orders from on high.

But the war was coming to an end, and he was determined that he would not be left out of the final battle. The Mandalorians were a warrior race, and to them surrender was worse than death; he knew that they would fight on to the bitter end, refusing to yield until they were utterly crushed and annihilated. And what was more, he knew there was one person whom he alone could defeat.

Mandalore. Revan felt his fists clench involuntarily as the image of his arch-enemy rose before him, as it had done so many times before. This was the man who had unleashed death and destruction on an unimaginable scale throughout the Outer Rim, pounding helpless worlds into dust for the sake of his twisted ideas of 'honour' and 'glory'. This was the man responsible for the countless massacres and atrocities he had witnessed, for the images and sounds that had seared themselves into his brain and would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. The man who had turned him into what he was today.

"A Jedi does not hate." A short, bitter laugh escaped Revan's lips as he mouthed the words which no longer held any meaning for him. As he pursued Mandalore ever more relentlessly, hatred had turned to loathing and loathing to an all-consuming obsession, an obsession which remained long after the horrors he saw almost daily had lost their ability to shock him. If there was one thing that sustained his will to fight after all this time, it was the desire to see this man finally destroyed – to make him pay for what he had done to the Republic, to the Jedi, and to him.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over him and he sank back, closing his eyes. Once he had defeated Mandalore, he would be able to rest at last... His thoughts blurred and ran together as sleep began to overtake him. Just a few more weeks and it would all be over, and he could return to Coruscant. He and Malak would be welcomed as heroes, and the Council would have to forgive their transgressions... perhaps then he could finally be at peace again...

He slept. Cheering crowds surrounded him as he walked through the streets of Coruscant; planes roared triumphantly overhead, friends waved at him as he passed, and he saw his former Master smiling proudly. But as he came closer the smiles gradually faded and twisted into expressions of terror; cheers turned to screams, and the crowds turned and fled in panic, shrieking and pushing and falling over each other in their desperate attempt to get away. He woke up shaking, the brief flicker of hope extinguished; all that remained was darkness, loneliness and despair at the prospect of having to face another day.