Disclaimer: Knights of the Old Republic I & II belong to LucasArts, Bioware and Obsidian Entertainment.
Lost in Transition.
The run-down cantina was crawling with life, albeit not the kind you actually would like to meet in a dark alley late at night. It appeared as if all of the local criminals and ruffians had decided to make it their base of operations.
She slowly moved across the floor and headed towards the back of the cantina. As she passed some of the more shady patrons, she could literally feel their eyes following her every move.
In an attempt to rid herself of the unwanted attention, she pulled her hood even further down over her face.
Sighing softly, she gracefully stepped over an unconscious alien. This particular sentient was still clutching a bottle of the local 'poison' in his hand. Unfortunately for him, the remaining content had already been spilled all over the floor.
She grinned as she realized that her target was within reach.
"You're a difficult man to track down," she stated, coming to a halt in front of a somewhat dingy table. On its dirty and dusty surface stood a half emptied bottle along with one cracked shot glass.
Seated behind the table was a hooded figure wearing a pitch black cloak. He was leaning back against the wall, observing her curiously.
"I've got a lot of enemies," he stated simply.
"Would you mind if I sat down? I've come a really long way just to find you," she asked quietly, gesturing at an available chair.
"Go ahead..."
"Thank you," she mumbled as she sat down.
It felt awkward to be so close to him after all those years. His story had certainly taken on uncanny and mythical proportions. On her journey she had been confronted with many stories, sometimes so distorted that someone could no longer ascertain as to which ones contained truth and which ones were mere fantasy.
She couldn't help but stare at him, hoping that it would result into some sort of answer to her unanswered questions. Once they had been friends, but at this particular moment in time it became blatantly apparent that that kind of relationship might not be easily rekindled.
An uncomfortable silence lingered between the two of them.
"It's been a while," he spoke softly, leaning forward slightly.
She nodded.
"I had not expected that you would be the one to track me down," he paused, searching for the right words. "I'm assuming that you would like to get some answers from me..."
"Those would indeed be nice," she answered, tilting her head. As she carefully tried to assess what his partially hidden face looked like underneath the rim of his hood, one of her fingers slowly traced the rim of the broken shotglass. "But that's actually not my main reason for being here..."
"It's not..."
"No. I'm here because certain individuals pointed me in your direction. They seemed to think that you might be in need of some help," she shrugged. "I've been told that you just up and left to fight this huge threat on your own. You're supposed to be a strategic genius...which is exactly why I find it so damn hard to believe what you've done."
"I just didn't want any more people to get hurt. There have already been far too many deaths on my account," he said, his words laced with a thin trace of anger.
"This is a suicide mission plain and simple," she returned coldly. "Sacrificing yourself on some kind of fool's errand is not going to bring all those people back from the dead, Revan."
"Do you think that I don't know that?" Revan replied, attempting to fight back the anger that was rising within him. Whether she realized it or not, she had definitely hit a sore spot.
"I've heard a lot of stories about you," she spoke with an amused tone. "Someone I knew believed that Darth Revan had come to see the error of his ways and decided to go against his former pupil."
"That's not quite the way it actually happened."
"However...I'm guessing that the Council did have a hand in 'convincing' you?"
"You could say that," he answered truthfully. Revan grabbed hold of the bottle and poured a black liquid into the shot glass. Gesturing at it, he continued."I would be lying if I told you that my sudden change of heart had been a voluntarily one."
Taking him up on his invitation, she picked up the glass and took a sip. "Do you regret it?"
Recognizing the deeper meaning behind her question, he took a moment to collect himself before answering. "I have done many things I've come to regret, but that wasn't one of them. Malak needed to be stopped."
"He used to be your best friend, Revan."
Although he had expected it, the veiled accusation in her voice still stung him and it wasn't as if he could blame her for it. Malak had not been the only one of his friends he had hurt in one way or another. She had also been one of his countless victims and her reaction was certainly a justified one. "I never said that it was an easy thing to do. I know that he never would have traveled down that path if I hadn't led him there in the first place. Where I went, people followed. It's ironic, isn't it? The only thing I wanted to accomplish back then was to stop the Mandalorians, but along the way things slowly and gradually started to change. I was fighting to save the Republic...trying to rid it of a much hated enemy and in the process I turned into very thing I despised."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
"Yes," Revan answered, the bitterness quite evident. "And...I'm a excellent example of that particular saying."
"You're not the only one," Exile replied softly, finishing her drink. Peering into his brown eyes, she tried to figure out what he had become. Seeking him out the way she had, had not been without danger or risk. As she looked at Revan, the Exile could not sense the corruption of the Dark Side within him. "The question that remains is..."
"Will history repeat itself? That is what you're wondering, isn't it?" Revan asked, his gaze meeting hers. He sighed, lightly shrugging as he took a swig from the bottle. "I can't say that I blame you for asking that question..."
"So...what's your answer?"
"For what it's worth...I'm no longer that person, Ennyri," he replied solemly as he placed the bottle back onto the table.
"You may not be him any more, but he is still part of you."
"True," he said, a sad smile appearing on his face. "There isn't a day that goes by where I'm not constantly reminded of that particular fact. Look, I know that I'm asking for a lot...especially from you, but I would like you to give me the benefit of the doubt."
"A lot of things have happened during the past ten years," she countered, leaning back in her chair. "Let me be blunt...I don't trust you very much at the moment. I will –however- give you what you've asked for, Revan. But...if I help you, I would like to get something from you in return. I..."
"You want me to help you reconnect to the Force," Revan stated in a matter-of-fact tone. He had sensed the echo within her the moment she had set foot in the cantina. The Council had indeed done exactly what he had predicted all those years ago. Once upon a time it would have amused him to no end, but that time was past. "Ennyri...I don't want to give you any false hope. What you're asking of me is not an easy task to accomplish and it could also take some time."
"But it can be done?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Good. That's all I needed to hear," she replied. The Exile felt a feeling of relief mixed with newfound determination wash over her. She had been waiting to hear that particular word for a very long time. "I think it's time to continue our discussion somewhere less public. If you need to get any personal belongings out of storage, I'd suggest that you do it now. I don't plan on staying on this hell hole of a planet any longer than I actually have to."
Revan shook his head and slowly got up from his chair. "No. There's really no need for that. You're not the only one around here who's eager to leave this place."
His eyes remained focused on her as he watched her follow his example. Having gotten up from her chair as well, she gestured towards the exit. "Let's go."