The anger she had felt was expected, though not welcomed.
It was standard anger; like the anger of any of the millions who had been wronged by the man opposing her. The required shock at the gravity of what he had done, the sympathy for his victims, the acceptance of her duty as a member of the Republic to strike him down.
He had laughed at her, derisive and cold.
"To think you were once the master, who ruled over all this…who ruled over even myself."
She had merely glared at him, unable to think of any kind of retort to something that was undeniably true.
"To think you were once the one who gave me this." The Sith Lord drew a hand across the mechanical device where his jaw had once been.
Her stomach had threatened to betray her then, but she remembered telling herself that queasiness was the least of her problems.
"I'll still be the one to defeat you in the end, Malak." He had only laughed again.
And when she had killed him, she had tried to remember any trace of him as someone she had once cared about, a man who had once been her 'closest friend', if the Jedi Council was to be believed about anything anymore.
But she remembered nothing, and she struck him down with the cold equanimity of any other Sith trooper in battle.
She glanced behind her from where she stood in the cockpit of the Ebon Hawk.
She heard their laughing, their shouts of happiness. And all she could do was stare out at the burning Star Forge, watching another part of her life breaking into pieces she would never be able to put back together.
She felt something warm clasp her hand. She looked up at him.
"Are you all right?" She saw how his fingers encircled hers, his grip firm but not controlling. She looked at his face, no ulterior motive in it other than concern for her.
This was her life. A man who loved her. A scout with a sharp tongue. The name Katrina, a Jedi with a green lightsaber.
That other life beckoned to her with the bent cackle of an old witch, and she shrunk from it as easily as a frightened child.
"It's over." She smiled at him and let him pull her into the circle with the rest of them, resisting the impulse to look over her shoulder and watch the destruction, burning red and fading fast.
Any semblance of logic or reason seemed to be things that were no longer present in her world. Dustil could have promised to stay with Carth and yet be on the Ebon Hawk beginning Jedi training. She could be both Katrina and Revan.
She could have a brother and have no knowledge of it.
"I…don't have a brother," she said dumbly.
When she wracked her brain for memories of a family, of a home, of parents and siblings alike, all the Council had seen fit to give her were faceless, generic memories. Smiling people who might have been related to her or not, like the kind that beckoned to you in advertisements.
"I suppose you are still angry," the voice murmured ruefully, "You said as much the last time you were here."
She couldn't see his face, and it bothered her. All she heard was a voice coming out of the darkness informing her that she had a brother.
Coherant questions wouldn't form despite the fact that she had hundreds of them.
"If you seek your connection with this planet, Master Jedi, we suggest you converse further with your brother." One of the other voices picked up the uncomfortable break in conversation. "The Committee will excuse you, Phineas."
"But…wait, we have…we have this list…" Her usual eloquence deserted her and she fumbled for the datapad containing the names.
"Whatever evidence on your attack you might have, Master Jedi, you may review with Phineas. He is privy to all information we might give you."
I don't want to go over it with some stranger saying he's my non-existent brother.
She looked at Bastila desperately for help. The Jedi looked, for once, speechless and out of any bright ideas.
A door opened in the side of the room, another beam of light breaking through the darkness, a rather unsubtle cue for them to exit. It led only to another empty waiting room.
She stared into the darkness once more, looking for some kind of visual proof that these voices weren't merely in her head. When she found none, she and Bastila moved quickly towards the exit.
Katrina began to pace.
"That was entirely pointless," she muttered to the floor.
"Pointless? Revan, we have discovered a vital part of our investigation," Bastila said eagerly. "We now know your connection with this planet."
Could she help it if the connection wasn't one she wanted? That she would have rather had an enraged populace hounding her for crimes she didn't remember than a brother embracing her with a fondness she didn't fathom? The former she was at least used to dealing with.
"This may have been what the Jedi Council was reluctant to tell you."
Of course it's what the Council didn't want to tell me. Why should they tell me anything about myself after having fabricated my entire identity for me? Her thoughts were bitter, and she knew this wasn't how she should have been reacting.
'Should' was a word she decided she wasn't going to think about.
"Did you know about this?"Katrina wheeled unexpectedly on Bastila, her finger held out threateningly.
"No, I knew nothing of this. The details of your family and your personal past are not something the Jedi felt was required for my mission." And if they weren't required, then why didn't they leave them with me?
"Whoever this is, he's not any brother of mine. It must be a lie. Maybe he's behind the attack." Bastila raised her eyebrow.
"Perhaps some Onasi paranoia has rubbed off on you after all. No, Revan-"
"Don't call me Revan,"Katrina snapped.
"I felt his earnestness through the Force," the Jedi continued, undeterred. "He was indeed surprised to see you."
"Surprised because he expected me dead?"
"Honestly-"
"Upon what grounds do you expect me to believe this, Bastila? Simply because he says so?" Bastila hesitated for a moment, as if playing out the next few words she planned to say in her head, estimating the degree of Katrina's reaction to them.
"You said the same thing after Malak informed you of your true identity. I wonder if even now you are still trying to convince yourself that parts of your past are a lie."
The Force and her stubborn incredulity played against each other on either sides of her brain. She had no memory of a brother.
But she had that feeling, that stone lodged in the pits of her stomach where facts were written by the hand of the Force, indisputable and absolute: Phineas had spoken the truth.
"Regardless of your personal feelings, we must meet with him," Bastila continued steadily. "He can provide us with the information we need."
There is no suspicion. There is no denial. There are no personal feelings.
Katrina stopped pacing and concentrated on running her fingers over the edges of her lightsaber. It was simultaneously comforting and frightening to know that she could easily end all these problems by pulling it out and slicing through every living thing in the building.
Another door in the corner of the room opened.
"I don't blame you for being angry, Revan. I wasn't exactly courteous to you the last time you were here."
Phineas spoke with that same firm and steady voice that said being a born leader might exist solely in his vocal cords. Physically he was trim and straight shouldered, though not muscular. A strong breeze wouldn't knock him over, but it might make him stumble.
She recognized the pair of hazel eyes set in his face. They were the same ones that stared back at her whenever she looked in a mirror.
"I imagine I wasn't particularly courteous either." It was all she could think of saying, as if he was a random stranger who had bumped into her in a crowd and they were making small talk amid apologies.
"You are Revan's brother then?" Bastila murmured, eying Katrina as if to say 'here's your tangible evidence'.
Phineas nodded.
"It's been a long time, Revan. I had thought…well, I had thought you were dead."
"Did that upset you?" Katrina said, much more nastily than she had intended.
"Of course it did! For Force's sake, Revan, you're still my sister, despite whatever you are to the rest of the galaxy." His arms were extended, as if he expected her to rush into them. She stared at them as though they might transform into sarlacc tendrils and devour her any second.
"I'm afraid Revan has no memory of you, Phineas," Bastila murmured gently.
The young- well, not exactly young. It was hard to put an age on him, actually. Phineas furrowed his brow.
"I don't understand."
"I have no brother," Katrina repeated. "And my name isn't Revan, it's Katrina." She saw Bastila sigh heavily out of the corner of her eye.
"Katrina?" He said her name as though it was the name of a meal he found particularly unappetizing. "Revan, what are you talking about?"
"The Jedi planned an ambush for Lord Revan," Katrina struggled not to throttle Bastila, who must have repeated this story at least a hundred times.
She hated the story with the passion of a zealous critic, who saw contrivances and holes in every plot point.
"Malak turned on his master during the ambush, helping us to defeat her. We used the Force to keep Revan from dying and instead gave her a new identity."
"A new identity? What possible purpose could that serve?" Phineas replied derisively.
Katrina fought the realization that she liked him already.
"The Jedi needed information about the Star Forge," Bastila continued defensively. "Information that Revan alone possessed. If we revived her with all her memories intact, it was feared and expected that she would continue to be the Dark Lord and only turn on us all again."
Silence hung on the air for a moment. Katrina only heard the words 'fear', 'Dark Lord', 'turn on us', and 'Revan', echoing over and over again.
"So you have no idea who I am?" Phineas finally said, turning to Katrina.
She suddenly felt sorry for him.
"Other than your name is Phineas, you're a member of that Committee, and you claim to be my brother, no."
He nodded again.
There is no guilt, guilt of a different kind than most. There is no feeling that although I have done him no bodily harm, I have harmed him all the same.
"Well, I won't keep you then." His voice was suddenly back to that firm, unflinching politician's inflection she had heard in the Committee chambers. "You must be quite busy with this investigation. Can I help you in any way? You had mentioned something about a list of names?"
She shook herself out of her reverie.
"We've investigated the local demolitions plant and found that they are producing several prototype weapons on a limited basis for private purchasers. These weapons match many of the characteristics of the weapon that was used against my ship." Phineas pursed his lips.
"Yes, the Committee has seen many of these weapons. We approve of their usage and production before sending them to Coruscant." The 'we' was back in his voice, and he was no longer Phineas but the faceless Committee again.
"We obtained this list of the purchasers of these weapons. We'd appreciate it if you could review them and let us know of any connection these people might have had with Revan."
Phineas eyed her as she said the name, like referring to herself in the third person was grounds for lunacy. He reached out for the datapad. She placed it in his hand, her fingers brushing against his palm.
She ignored the Force jabbing her in the ribs, telling her that he was undeniably related to her.
"We will review these names and prepare a report for you. If you'll return here tomorrow evening, we can present our findings to you and answer any other questions you might have."
"Thank you." Phineas smiled weakly.
"It's the least we can do, Master Jedi." His answer was drier, more the voice of a droid than a human being. With an abrupt nod of his head, he clasped his hands behind his back and exited the room.
Bastila harrumphed loudly.
"Well it's obvious you're related," she snapped. "Denial must run rampant in your genetic line."
There is no flaring of the nostrils, there are no clenched fists. There is no desire to tell your quasi-mentor and good friend to shove it.
"We're not related. He's not my brother."
"You may convince yourself of that, but you'll have precious little luck deluding me as well."
"You haven't the slightest idea how it feels, Bastila."
"Haven't I? I know exactly how I would have felt if you hadn't pushed me to forgive my mother." Her voice was softer, more easily wounded.
That fact didn't stop Katrina from continuing.
"If you and your damned Jedi Council had decided to leave me with the memory of a mother, let alone a brother, I might feel the same way." These words came as she simultaneously remembered that Bastila's mother was now no more than a memory herself.
"I'm sorry-" she said, turning to the Jedi. Bastila brushed past her, her head high and her anger more than palpable to Katrina. She felt it coursing through her veins, frighteningly familiar and comforting. She felt it coursing through Bastila's, and she felt the remorse that she had caused it.
"Let's get back to the Hawk," The Jedi replied calmly.