A/N: One more chapter to come. Please, please review - even if it's just to say you hate it! There's nothing more depressing than spending hours and hours on a story and getting no reviews.

In case anyone is confused by what I write about Revan and Bastila in this chapter, my version of their relationship prior to KOTOR is set out in my previous story, 'A Beautiful Friendship.'

Part 2

A frantic knocking on the door of Revan's cabin jolted him awake, brutally interrupting a few hours of badly-needed sleep. Swearing under his breath, he dragged himself out of his bed and stumbled towards the door, without bothering to put on his robe. It slid open to reveal a young Jedi - a Padawan by the looks of him – who appeared to have arrived in a considerable hurry. He stood for a moment in silence, trying to catch his breath, his entire body radiating nervous excitement.

"Yes, what is it?" Revan spoke sharply, not even attempting to conceal his annoyance. The young man remembered himself and bowed hurriedly.

"Forgive me, Master Revan, I'm sorry to wake you." He took a deep breath and continued. "But Commander Malak is here - he says he needs to speak to you immediately..."

Revan blinked. "Malak?" He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his head. "I thought he was in another sector..."

"He only just arrived, sir. He's waiting in the command centre." The Padawan gestured vaguely towards the elevator at the end of the corridor. "He said he has important news about our operations..."

Revan didn't wait to hear any more. He grabbed his robe, yanked it around himself and strode off, pausing only to murmur a brief "Thank you, Padawan" as he passed the other Jedi. The young man stared after him in faint amusement as he practically ran down the corridor towards the elevator.

A minute later he burst through the door of the ship's operations centre, pale and out of breath. The Republic officers manning the control panels barely even glanced at him; by now they were used to seeing Revan storm into the room in the midst of some crisis, dressed only in nightclothes and a robe. However, the tall, thin Jedi who stood in the middle of the room swung round to greet him as he entered.

"Revan!" A slightly guilty look crossed Malak's face as he grasped his friend's hand warmly. "I'm really sorry about this – I forgot that you might still be in bed..."

Revan shook his head impatiently. "Never mind that; tell me what's happened!"

"Hey, calm down." Malak raised his hands in a reassuring gesture. "It's not bad news." He smiled slightly and then, seeing that his friend still looked worried, continued. "You know that we've been in a standoff against the Mandalorians around Dxun for the past four days?

Revan nodded. "I thought Admiral Dodonna was sending reinforcements –"

"She doesn't need to. It's over." Malak's face broke into a grin. "One of the Mandalorian commanders panicked and ordered the ships under his command to attack - I guess he thought we weren't prepared." He paused for effect. "Well, we were. My fleet engaged them and we managed to break through their defences and attack the planet. We destroyed their communications centre before they could sort themselves out and organise a counter-attack."

"What? When did this happen?" Revan stared at him in astonishment and confusion. "I never heard anything about it."

"It started about 14 hours ago. We're still mopping up, but we've taken control of the planet and destroyed most of the Mandalorian fleet." His smile faded a little. "Though I'm afraid we've taken quite heavy casualties."

Revan sank down into a chair, trying to take in what he had just heard. "And I take it you've informed the Admiral?"

"Yes, but I said that I wanted tell you in person." Malak's face brightened again. "I left for hyperspace as soon as possible after I heard what had happened."

"Then..." Revan gazed up at the holographic star chart in the centre of the room. "Then that's almost the last of their bases! There's only Malachor V left and my forces have them surrounded..." His voice trailed off as he stared intently at the mass of small green and red shapes representing friendly and hostile forces.

"That's right." Malak took a step forward; normally the calmer and more cautious of the two, he could not disguise the slight quiver of excitement in his voice as he spoke. "We've won, Revan."

"Hold it." Revan snapped out of his reverie; suddenly he was Revan the military leader once more, detached and pragmatic. "Let's not get overconfident – Mandalore's on that moon and he's not going to give up without a fight." He turned back to the star chart. "I suggest we launch an attack as quickly as possible, before they try to break through our lines and escape."

Malak nodded in agreement. "Very well. The rest of my fleet should have arrived within another 24 hours." He smiled at his friend. "Shall I leave it up to you to ask the Admiral for permission?"

........

"You want to launch the attack immediately?" There was a faint trace of concern in Admiral Dodonna's face. "Are you sure you don't need more troops, Revan? I can get reinforcements to you within 48 hours –"

"I think it would be better to attack quickly, Admiral," explained the Jedi. "The Mandalorians must be getting desperate – it's best that we finish them off before they have time to formulate an escape plan."

"Well, you must do as you think best. You haven't failed us yet, Revan." She smiled at him and he looked down modestly. "Is there anything else?"

He raised his eyes again. "Well... there is one thing..." She waited as he swallowed and breathed in deeply, clearly somewhat uncomfortable. "I would like to lead the assault myself, Admiral."

"What, in person?"

He nodded. "Along with Malak, of course."

She pursed her lips and sighed. "Well, I suppose I can hardly deny you this after all you've done for us. Just... take care of yourself, that's all. And get some sleep beforehand, you look absolutely shattered."

It was his turn to smile. "Yes, Mother." He heard her laugh as the hologram flickered and disappeared.

Malak was waiting for him outside the communications room. "Well?"

"Yes." He inclined his head slightly towards the room. "She's given us the go-ahead."

"This is it, then." Malak grinned somewhat nervously. "Twenty-four hours. How do you feel?"

"I..." Suddenly Revan realised just how tired he was. He felt... numb, that was the only way to describe it. Could it really be that this was all, finally, coming to an end? "I'm not sure. I just want to get it over with, really."

Malak looked sympathetic. "Well, don't we all? These past few months have been hell." He shrugged. "It's a pity you couldn't persuade Bastila Shan to join us – she might have made things a lot easier."

"Well, I couldn't, so it's no use complaining about it." Revan's voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "What did you want me to do, use a mind-trick on her?"

His friend looked at him in surprise. "Well, there's no need to get so defensive. I was just saying."

"I'm sorry," muttered Revan wearily. "I... look, I'm going back to bed." His face looked tired and strained. "Goodnight, Malak."

........

Revan removed his robe and flopped down onto the bed. Alone in the room with nothing but his own thoughts, he felt the dark clouds of depression begin to envelop him once more. Bastila Shan! Why did someone always have to remind him of her?

Revan had had a few lovers. He had long since abandoned any scruples where the Jedi Code was concerned, and it was not difficult to find women who were willing to do the same, even among his fellow Jedi. But they had mostly been casual girlfriends, attracted by his fame, power and good looks, but not interested in a serious relationship. This had not been a problem for him; the last thing he needed at the moment was to fall in love.

Bastila, however, was different. They had known each other since they were children; he had trained her in the use of the Force while he was still a Padawan. As a young girl she had adored him, regarding him almost as an older brother; and despite the difference in their ages, she was one of the few people he felt able to confide in when he had fallen out of favour with the Council.

He had not forgotten her, even after the war started. And then, a couple of months ago, he had got to hear of her newly-discovered talent for Battle Meditation. Secretly returning to Dantooine in an attempt to persuade her to use her abilities in the service of the Republic's fleet, he had found that the shy teenage girl he remembered had become a beautiful woman – a woman who cared for him as a person, rather than as the great hero of the Republic. And he had realised, with sudden and painfully startling clarity, that he loved her.

And what was more, he knew that she loved him. He cringed at the memory of how he had manipulated her into admitting it; he was not proud of his behaviour that night. But what stung far more was that he had begged her to come with him, laying bare a vulnerability he could never have revealed to anyone else – and though he could sense that she longed to give in to him, she had refused. He had come so close, and yet he had seen the fear in her eyes even as he held her in his arms – she believed he was falling to the Dark Side...

He had left, angry and bitter, vowing to forget her. And yet, again and again the thought of her would steal treacherously back into his mind, even as he tried to concentrate on other things. Occasionally he would see her in his dreams – her face, her voice, everything about her seeming so real that he would wake up aching to hold her, longing for the comfort that her touch would bring.

He groaned as he realised he had been daydreaming about her yet again. Whatever had happened to the self-control he was supposed to have learned as a Jedi? These days, it seemed that he had no control whatsoever over his emotions or even his own thoughts. He shook himself angrily; he had no time for this, there were more important things to think about right now. Moping over Bastila was no way to prepare himself for a battle.

He gazed over at HK-47, the droid he was constructing as one of his few distractions from his military duties. He had always enjoyed building droids; they did exactly what you programmed them to do, and they didn't judge you or talk back to you – unless you wanted them to, of course. He wondered idly if he could program the droid to provide some kind of psychological assistance; at the very least it would be someone he could talk to, someone to whom he could express his innermost thoughts without fearing the consequences.

But all this was idle speculation; he might not even be alive this time tomorrow... Suddenly an icy shudder ran through him, and just for a second he felt an overwhelming sensation of dread – a raw fear that he had never felt before, even when he was lying chained up in a filthy cell at the mercy of his Mandalorian captors. A moment later it had passed, leaving him with only a faint sense of unease and apprehension.

The Force? He closed his eyes, trying to sense any danger that lay ahead, but it was no use – fatigue and a maelstrom of emotions were clouding his perceptions, preventing him from gaining any insight into what was to come. He sighed and shrugged off the feeling; what would be would be, and he would know his fate soon enough. For now, all he needed was to sleep.