A/N: After agonising over this for months, I've finally decided to continue with this fic and explore some of the issues I had previously left out. Think of the next few chapters as being 'Part 2' of the story (yes, I know the last chapter was labelled 'Part 2'. Confusing, isn't it?) It will continue the story up to the medal ceremony which ends the game.
Part 3
The first thing Bastila felt when she woke was pain – a savage, crushing pain that seemed to radiate through her whole body. She could smell blood, and for a moment she wondered if she was dying – and then, as the memory struck her like a blaster bolt to the stomach, she found herself wishing that this were indeed the case.
She forced herself to open her eyes, and immediately wished she hadn't. Shuddering violently, she manoeuvred herself into a sitting position and covered herself as best she could with her tattered tunic; then, wincing with pain at every movement, she inched her way over into the corner of the room and sank back against the wall. Something between a groan and a sob escaped her as she lowered her head onto her knees, curling herself up into a tight, rigid ball.
The fury she had felt last night still simmered inside her, the pressure gradually increasing until she was seething with rage and hatred. The Jedi... She ground her teeth at the thought of them, with their sanctimonious preaching and their smug hypocrisy. Everything Malak had told her about them was true; they'd used her and manipulated her for their own ends, and now that she was no longer needed they'd left her to rot. Even Revan, her so-called friend, who'd pretended to love her...
Shards of agony pierced her heart as she recalled that night on Kashyyyk, and hot tears filled her eyes. Revan, Malak, the Council... all of them would suffer for what they had done to her. She would become the Dark Lord's 'loyal' apprentice, drawing her power from the Dark Side until she was strong enough to defeat Revan... and then, one day, she would overpower her Master and put him to a slow, agonizing death, making him beg and scream for mercy the way she had once begged him. Everyone would see the horrendous price he paid for treating her in that way.
A ripple in the Force warned her of Malak's approach, but she made no attempt to move. His heavy footsteps drew closer and closer; finally she heard the door slide aside, and the Dark Lord entered the cell. He walked straight over to Bastila and bent over her, touching her cheek with a surprising gentleness. She flinched automatically at his touch, but Malak did not appear to notice or care.
"Well, Bastila?" he said quietly. "Have you made your choice?"
He could already sense what her answer would be. Slowly she raised her head to look at him, her eyes burning in her pale face, and nodded.
Malak's face remained solemn, but she saw the spark of triumph in his eyes. "Good." His deep voice rang with satisfaction. "I will teach you to put that anger and pain to good use, Bastila."
A shiver ran through her. "Those men – " Her voice was no more than a croak, but Malak knew immediately what she meant.
"They will die."
She nodded again and sank her face into her arms once more. Malak turned away from her and beckoned to two Dark Jedi, both female, who stood just outside the room. "Take her to the medical bay," he ordered.
Wordlessly they complied, helping Bastila to her feet and half-leading, half-carrying her out of the cell. She felt an instinctive shudder of revulsion at being touched, and then cursed herself angrily for her weakness. She would never think of... that... again; she would block it out of her mind completely, forcing herself to concentrate on the future. The only thing that mattered, the only thing left to her now, was revenge...
The vision suddenly vanished, leaving her in darkness. Powerful arms held her tightly against a warm, hard body – a man's body – and for a moment her blood froze in her veins. She let out an involuntary whimper of fear, even as she realised where she was and who it was that was holding her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and lay very still in his arms, her heart still beating almost painfully hard. Even though she could feel him both physically and through the Force, she was half-convinced that this itself was a dream, and she would soon wake up to find herself back in the Temple. Revan must have felt her shivering, as he stirred in his sleep and mumbled something before finally waking up.
"Bastila?" The sound of his sleepy voice was inexpressibly comforting. Now she remembered how he had offered to stay with her again that night, and was suddenly relieved that she had accepted. She forced the horrible images out of her mind and opened her eyes to look at the man she loved, the tension gradually beginning to seep from her body.
Revan was gazing into her face, a touch of concern in his dark eyes. "Bad dreams?" he murmured, trailing his hand along her cheek.
She nodded, unwilling to go into details, and he heaved a sigh. "Sweetheart, you're going to have to tell someone about this eventually."
"I know." The words came out rather more forcefully than she had intended. Lowering her voice a little, she continued: "My Master, Hestra, is a member of the High Council. I'll speak to her about it when we arrive on Coruscant."
"All right." He leaned over and softly touched his lips to hers, not wanting to upset her any further. "We should be there in a few more hours, anyway."
"Yes..." Bastila felt her stomach begin to tighten up again. She was definitely not looking forward to their arrival in the Republic's capital, let alone the inevitable meeting with the Jedi Council. Who knew what would be in store for the two of them?
Revan sensed her apprehension and pressed her closer to him, rolling over slightly so that her head rested on his chest. "I've told you it's going to be OK," he muttered soothingly, stroking her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
She gave him a rather sad smile. "I wish I could be as sure as you, Revan."
"I'll be fine, whatever happens," he reassured her, and suddenly she felt him tense up sharply. "And if anyone lays a finger on you, I'll kill them."
His sudden anger surged through their bond, making her look up at him in alarm. Sensing how it disturbed her, Revan forced himself to calm down once more. "Anyway," he said in a lighter tone, "I'd better be getting back to my own room. HK will be getting worried about me."
She rolled her eyes in mock-disgust. "That droid! Anyone would think you were married to the thing."
Revan only smiled, then reluctantly slid her off him and dragged himself out of the bed. "I'll see you at breakfast," he said as he pulled on his robe. She responded with another slightly strained smile before settling back down under the covers, wondering why the bed somehow felt so much colder without him.
-----
Revan's mind remained preoccupied with Bastila as he returned to his room, this time without any embarrassing encounters, and quickly dressed himself. Even though she seemed to have improved a little over the past few days, it was obvious that she was still in a bad state. He didn't know how long it would take her to recover from everything she had been through; even for a woman with Bastila's strength of mind, he suspected that it would take a long time.
He prayed that the council wouldn't attempt to separate them. She badly needed someone to care for her, and as for him... He tried to imagine a future without her, and quickly abandoned the attempt. Somehow the idea made him feel very lonely indeed.
It was earlier than he had realised, and his heart sank when he reached the kitchen and perceived that the only other person there was Canderous Ordo. The Mandalorian was bent over one of the tables, busily polishing off the remains of a hearty breakfast, and barely even looked up as his crewmate entered. Revan hesitated; he had no desire whatsoever to apologise for the previous day's events, particularly as he was sure Canderous had no intention of doing so himself, but he knew that it was his obligation as a Jedi. Pride and duty fought a brief but heated tussle for control, and duty finally won out.
"Canderous?"
The other man looked up from his meal. "Hm?" he mumbled, his mouth still full of food.
"About yesterday..." Revan gritted his teeth. "I guess I should apologise. I... rather lost control when you said that about Bastila."
Rather to his surprise, Canderous simply shrugged. "Hey, she's your girl. I can respect that." He screwed up his face, unable to hide his true feelings. "I don't know what the hell you see in her, but..."
Revan rolled his eyes inwardly and fought back a smile. As he had come to observe, Mandalorians were nothing if not brutally honest. "Not your type, I take it?" he ventured.
The expression on Canderous's face spoke far louder than words. "Well, it's your funeral," he said darkly, before returning to the original subject. "Anyway, if I'd realised you two were sleeping together – "
"We're not sleeping together, Canderous."
"Huh?" Now Canderous looked really confused.
"Never mind... I'll explain some other time." Revan turned away and began to serve himself some food. He couldn't help feeling some relief that the Mandalorian, whom he had come to see as a friend of sorts, didn't seem to bear a grudge against him. "What will you do when all this is over?" he asked, by way of making conversation.
Canderous did not reply for a minute, and when his answer finally came, it was unexpectedly hesitant. "I... I don't know. After what happened with Jagi..." He looked down at his plate, shaking his head. "I've been thinking for a while, and I'm not happy with how my life has gone. I don't think I'm the Mandalore I once was."
Surprised, Revan looked round at him. "How do you mean?"
The older man shrugged. "Comrades in arms... cheating death... the thrill of battle..." He shook his head again. "It gets old. Very old."
"Really?" Revan stared at him in astonishment. Was this the same man who'd spent the last few months boasting endlessly about his glorious victories in battle?
"Yeah." Canderous nodded slowly. "I think I need something more than just fighting and killing... you know, some kind of purpose." Before Revan could ask what this might be, he went on: "Maybe it could be with the Republic... or even the Sith. Who knows?"
The Jedi suppressed a sigh. He couldn't help feeling that Canderous was missing the point about fighting for a 'purpose', but how to explain this to a Mandalorian? It had long since become clear to him that as far as their mentality and beliefs were concerned, they might as well be living in different universes. "I hope you find what you're looking for," he said honestly, but somehow he suspected that this period of unusual introspection on Canderous's part would not last long. Sooner or later, his warrior nature was bound to reassert itself.
"I'll find my way again soon enough." Canderous munched down the last few morsels of food, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "And now let's forget about this before I start getting sentimental or something." Once again Revan found himself hiding a smile; clearly some things never changed.
The others were starting to arrive now, and Revan was pleased to see Bastila among them. She said very little, however, and did not even deign to look at Canderous, who returned the favour by ignoring her completely. Revan observed their shaky truce with an inward sigh; for all they had briefly managed to stop sniping at each other, he got the feeling that there would never be any love lost between those two.
As the others jostled over the food dispensers, he walked over to the window and stared out into space. It couldn't be long now; all too soon they would be coming out of hyperspace and making their entry into the Coruscant system. As to what awaited them there, he wished he knew.
-----
The news of the Star Forge's destruction had, unsurprisingly, come as a massive relief to the Republic's beleaguered political and military leaders. However, the mood of celebration was immediately tempered by the question of how to deal with Revan, and there had already been several heated debates in the Senate while the fleet was returning to Coruscant. Many of the Core Worlds representatives were supportive of the errant Jedi, while those Outer Rim worlds which had suffered most from the war had no hesitation in calling for his imprisonment or even execution; others, however, remained fiercely loyal to the man who had saved them from the Mandalorians.
Revan himself knew nothing of these debates, or of their eventual outcome. As he stood with the others in one of the docking bays, ready to board the transport which would take them to the surface of Coruscant, he could feel the heightened tension even at this distance. He was reasonably certain that he wouldn't be arrested on his arrival, as Republic troops could have done that at any point during the last few days; but how would he be received by the people of the Republic? Would he be viewed as saviour or conqueror, hero or villain?
He stole a glance at Bastila, who stood by his side. She looked pale and distinctly anxious, even though in his opinion she had far less to be afraid of than he did. He grasped her hand in his, as much for his own comfort as for hers, and she flashed him a brief, grateful smile.
As the transport made its way towards the surface he sat with his eyes glued to the small porthole, keen to see the Republic's capital for himself. At long last the buildings began to come into focus, and he recognised the five massive spires of the Jedi Temple, towering above the rest of the city. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and for a moment it almost made him forget how nervous he was.
"What's that on the ground?" he heard Mission say somewhere behind him. He turned his attention to the streets below, and was astonished to see what looked like a heaving sea of tiny, brightly-coloured dots, stretching out around the Temple for at least a mile. "They're people," he said softly, as the ship slowed down to begin its descent into the Temple grounds. "Waiting for us, I think."
"Our welcome party, huh?" muttered Carth. A dull roar filtered through to them from below as the transport drew closer to the ground. "Sounds like they're cheering."
Revan's eyes briefly met Bastila's. "Well, that's a good sign... I guess," he said, with an uncertain smile.
The cheers had died down a little by the time the ship disappeared behind the walls of the Temple, but they were still astonishingly loud. As the party members finally stepped out of the transport into the open air, the noise was almost deafening. A couple of young Knights hurried up to lead them into the temple, where a Rodian Jedi Master was waiting for them.
"Greetings, and welcome to the Jedi Temple. My name is Kodon Tol." He turned to Bastila. "Padawan Bastila, your Master wishes to speak to you in private. I believe she will be here soon."
Bastila nodded meekly, and Kodon turned his attention back to the others. "As for the rest of you, would you please follow me?"
-----
Revan hurried after Kodon through the endless corridors of the Temple, wishing he had the time to explore some of the places he had seen along the way. He wasn't even sure where he was going; all he had been told was that Vandar wanted to speak to him alone. The others, apart from the droids, had been taken to a waiting area nearby; apparently they would be shown to their own quarters later on.
He was ushered into a small study, furnished in the same simple but comfortable style as the other rooms he had seen. Behind a low desk, on a specially-constructed chair, sat Vandar Tokare; beside him was a middle-aged woman in military dress, whom he recognised as Admiral Dodonna. It was the first time he had seen her in the flesh – at least, the first time he could actually remember – and he briefly wondered how she felt about meeting him again. Her face gave little away; she looked neither particularly hostile nor particularly friendly.
"Welcome back to Coruscant, Padawan. This is Admiral Forn Dodonna." Vandar paused briefly to allow the two to shake hands. "Am I right in thinking that you wish to be known as 'Revan' again from now on?"
Revan hesitated. He knew the risk he was taking by re-adopting his old name and identity; there must be thousands of people, if not millions, on both sides of the current conflict who would like nothing better than to see him dead. But he couldn't keep up the lie any longer, to himself or anyone else; he couldn't bring himself to hide behind an identity that only existed in the minds of the Jedi Council. He deserved to be judged, whether favourably or unfavourably, on everything he had done.
"Yes, Master Vandar," he replied after a few moments. "I do."
"So be it." Vandar leaned back in his chair. "I imagine you have many questions for us, Revan."
That was the understatement of the century, Revan thought. Before he could actually ask any questions, Vandar went on: "Zhar will be pleased to see you, I'm sure. He's been extremely worried about you."
"Master Zhar is alive?" Revan was surprised; he had assumed that Vandar was the only Council member who had escaped Dantooine.
"Yes. He and Vrook were injured, but they survived the attack." Vandar's face grew solemn. "However, Vrook is still somewhat...troubled. He was quite strongly affected by Malak's death, even though he had expected it."
"Malak was Vrook's former apprentice," explained the Admiral, seeing the young man's confused expression. Revan felt his heart sink as he suddenly understood. No wonder Vrook had always seemed to dislike him so much; he must have blamed him for leading his own pupil astray – and Malak's death was hardly likely to improve things between them.
He dismissed the thought from his mind; there were more urgent matters to consider. "Admiral, may I ask you something? What's going to happen to me and Bastila?"
Dodonna sighed. "A good question. Some people would prefer to see you brought to trial." She gave no indication of whether or not she shared this view. "But since you have no memory of the crimes you committed, I doubt that would be possible. In any case, I believe the Chancellor is planning to grant you an official pardon."
"And Bastila?" he demanded. Vandar and the Admiral exchanged glances.
"Her case is rather different," said the Jedi Master softly. "Some people have also called for her to be brought to trial. But I think it would be best to wait until we know more about the reasons behind what she did."
Revan had a sudden vision of Bastila standing alone in front of a military court, forced once again to recite every gruesome detail of her sufferings on the Rakata world, harassed by lawyers who didn't know or care whether she was telling the truth. The thought made him feel sick. "Master," he said urgently, "I think there's something you should – "
His words were drowned out by a loud knock on the door. Before Vandar or the Admiral could respond, it slid open and a grim-faced woman marched into the room, her mouth set in a hard line. Without apologising for the interruption, she walked straight up to Vandar's desk and spoke: "Vandar, Admiral, I need to speak to you immediately."
Surprised at her abrupt manner, Vandar made a slight gesture towards Revan. "Could it not wait, Hestra?"
"I think not." She sounded quite adamant.
Vandar's brow furrowed in concern. "Very well," he said, and nodded to the young Jedi. "Would you excuse us for a minute, Padawan?"
"Of course, Master." Revan pushed back his chair and stood up, then hesitated. "Er... Master Hestra, where is Bastila?"
"I've sent her for a medical examination." Without elaborating, she waved a hand towards the corridor behind her. "Your other friends are still in the waiting area."
Revan bowed formally and walked out of the room. Almost instantly he heard the door close behind him, and then the sound of raised voices; though he couldn't make out what they were talking about, he had a pretty good idea. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued down the corridor to the waiting area
His friends were still where he had left them, lolling about on the chairs in attitudes of obvious boredom and irritation. Mission was the first to see him approach, and she immediately perked up. "Hey, Revan, what's up?"
"Bastila's Master is talking to Vandar." He looked around from one to the other, and noticed that Juhani was missing. "What's going on here?"
Carth jerked his thumb towards the door on the opposite wall. "They're interviewing us one at a time. Asking questions about the mission and... well, you and Bastila."
Mission leaned forward conspiratorially. "Don't worry, Rev," she said in a low voice. "We won't tell them anything about... y'know, you two."
Revan had a feeling that some of the Masters already knew, or at least suspected, but he let it pass. Before he could reply, however, the door opened slightly and a man's head peered out. "Jolee Bindo, please."
"My turn for the third degree, is it?" muttered the old man. Winking at Revan, he stood up and turned to walk into the interview room just as Juhani was coming out. The Cathar's eyes were unusually shiny, and the soft fur on her cheeks looked slightly damp. Revan instantly realised that she had been crying, and was momentarily horrified – what kind of questions could the Jedi be asking his friends that would leave them in tears?
"Juhani, what's wrong?" he asked in astonishment. The young woman wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and made a determined effort to smile.
"Forgive me, Padawan," she said shakily. "It is just..." Her voice faltered. "Do you remember a woman named Belaya Thaar, whom you met on Dantooine?
"Belaya..." The name did sound familiar. Suddenly Revan remembered: she was the woman who had mistaken him for a Padawan when he first arrived, and had later thanked him for saving Juhani from the Dark Side.
Juhani saw his uncertain nod and continued. "She was... a close friend of mine. Very close." Her voice sank almost to a whisper. "I have just discovered that she was killed when the Sith attacked the Academy."
There was a long silence. Most of the others looked down uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Juhani," said Revan finally. "What about your Master, did she survive?"
The grief faded slightly from Juhani's eyes. "Yes, Force be praised. She had left the planet for medical treatment, and escaped the attack. I suppose that for this at least, I should be grateful." No one chose to mention the obvious irony: that ultimately, Juhani's near-fatal attack on Quatra had almost certainly saved her life.
Carth shifted a little in his chair. "Where did Bastila get to, anyway?" he asked, in a rather transparent attempt to change the subject.
"Her Master sent her for a medical examination."
Mission's eyes widened. "Why? Is there something wrong with her?"
Revan felt a sudden rush of anger and impatience. "What, apart from having been through a week of almost constant torture?" he snapped. The young Twi'lek raised her eyebrows in surprise and mortification, and he immediately felt guilty for losing his temper with her. "Yes," he went on with forced calmness, "there is something else wrong with her."
All of them were staring at him now, waiting for him to elaborate. For a moment he wondered if he should tell them now, or leave it up to Bastila... but it was bound to come out pretty soon, in any case. And this way, at least there'd be no risk of them accidentally causing her further pain through thoughtless remarks.
He took a deep breath. "She was raped," he said quietly. "By two of Malak's Dark Jedi. That's why she fell to the Dark Side."
There were gasps of dismay from the assembled crewmates. Their expressions ran the gamut from shocked disbelief to horror and disgust; only Canderous, who rarely allowed himself to show much emotion, remained impassive. Juhani was the first to speak, her own grief forgotten.
"The worms." Her voice trembled with rage. "But it does not surprise me. They are capable of anything, these Sith animals, anything."
"Where are the men who did this?" growled Zaalbar, baring his teeth in a menacing snarl.
"Almost certainly dead, I'm glad to say." Revan found himself hoping with a most un-Jedi-like venom that their deaths had been slow and painful.
No one said anything more for a long time. "Is there anything we can do for her?" Carth asked at last, his voice subdued.
Revan shrugged wearily. "I don't think so. Just don't mention this to her when she comes back. And just... try to speak to her with a little tact, OK?" He looked very pointedly at Canderous, whose face remained expressionless.
At that moment Hestra appeared once more, looking slightly calmer than she had done earlier. "Vandar wishes to speak to you again, Padawan," she said quietly to Revan. He nodded and stood up to go, leaving the others talking amongst themselves in hushed voices.
Vandar and the others looked up as he re-entered the study. "Ah, Revan," he said mildly. "Please forgive the interruption. We were speaking of Bastila, were we not?"
"Yes, Master."
Vandar glanced over at the Admiral, who nodded and took over from him. "After what Hestra told us about her fall to the Dark Side, I don't believe a formal trial would be appropriate," she said softly. "I have decided it would be better to leave this matter up to the Jedi."
She fell silent, and Vandar continued. "The Council will convene for a special session tomorrow morning. You and Bastila will attend and give an account of your actions." He paused. "Is this acceptable to you, Padawan?"
He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but what could he say? It was a lot better than a trial. "Of course, Master," he replied, then turned to Admiral Dodonna. "And... thank you, Admiral."
She inclined her head slightly in reply. Vandar pressed a button on his desk, and the door slid open again. "That will be all for now, young one," he said. "If you have any more questions, speak to one of the other Masters."
There were in fact many more questions that Revan would have liked to ask, but it was clear that he wouldn't be getting any answers for the moment. Stifling a sigh, he bowed once more and left the room; then, his mind still fixed on the upcoming Council meeting, he slowly made his way back to join his friends. Everything else would have to wait.