The looks she'd gotten from the Republic soldiers when she returned with his body were murderous. The Jedi Council had had to intervene to prevent the Republic from dragging Revan back to Coruscant for a public execution. Instead of staying at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, his comatose form had been sent to Dantooine for his own safety. Even in his incapacitated state, he was treated like a pariah at the Enclave. Bastila's isolation from her Jedi peers became more acute than ever before.
None of it mattered though. All that mattered was that she had to be with Revan, her Revan. The doctors, amongst them many of the Republic's brightest medical minds, had all said the same thing: Revan wouldn't survive his injuries. The damage done to his body was too great, too much for even one as powerful as Revan to endure. But Bastila had never given up hope. She stayed with him, watched his broken body float in the kolto tank, tears running down her cheeks as she pressed her hands against the glass, wanting to touch him, wanting him to open his eyes and smile softly at her as he used to before… his fall.
The doctors were both right and wrong. Physically, the young warrior's recovery was incredible. Defying all odds, he healed at an extraordinary rate, his flesh mending itself right before their eyes. The doctors had said he wouldn't live past a week. He was out of the kolto tank in less than a month. A few faint scars running down his lower back were the only reminders of his brush with death. Revan's iron will to live and persevere were too strong, his connection to the Force too powerful to allow him to die.
But his mind was a different matter. The trauma and massive amount of blood he'd lost had almost obliterated his mind. He had made no progress and the doctors said the chance of recovery was slim. He would wake up… someday. Whether he would ever be the same…
The thought was too much to bear.
"Why, Revan? Why did it have to be you to save the Republic? Why did you have to be so… brave?" she whispered to him. His fierce idealism and devotion to his interpretation of the tenets of the Jedi Order had drawn him into the Mandalorian Wars. He had always been so strong, so stubborn. He would not have been able to live with himself if he hadn't gone to fight. It was in his blood; to do what he felt was just, to right the wrongs of the universe. And in the end, his nobility had betrayed him.
Bastila felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Master Zhar, one of Revan's first masters. The kindly Twi'lek looked at her with concern.
"There is nothing more you can do for him, child. You should rest."
She was exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes to find rest, she went back to that final moment with him, cradling his broken body in her arms as he whispered a final goodbye. When she did manage to drift off, her dreams were troubled and she awoke feeling emotionally and psychologically drained.
"No… I want to be the first thing he sees when he awakes. He needs me to be here for him… He… Revan… Revan sacrificed himself to save me, Master."
A sympathetic smile crossed Master Zhar's face.
"And we have decided to save his. The Force has a role for each of us to play… and he has not yet finished his."
Bastila looked up hopefully, her blue eyes showing life for the first time in weeks. Master Vrook walked into the room, the expression on his face grim, as always.
"Yes, it seems despite your lack of judgment in bringing this… outcast back, you may have given us a chance to defeat the Sith."
Confusion played across Bastila's face. Master Dorak, following closely behind Vrook, tried to explain.
"As you know, the Sith seem to have unlimited resources. When Revan first returned from the Unknown Regions, he boasted a fleet five times larger than that he left with. Some of these ships were old Republic vessels but the bulk of his fleet was made up of ships built in a configuration no one had ever seen before. None of the major ship building guilds have delivered any orders other than to the Republic. All Republic Intelligence has been able to determine is that a nonstop stream of war material is fueling the Sith war effort from somewhere in the uncharted regions of the galaxy. Reconnaissance efforts have been completely futile. But in Revan's last battle, when Malak betrayed him, a number of officers loyal to Revan defected back to the Republic, providing us with some much needed information. One of Revan's personal aides spoke of something he overheard Revan discussing with his apprentice. Something called the 'Star Forge'."
Bastila frowned. Something was going on. The Masters weren't here to give her a history lesson. She didn't know what the Masters had planned and she wasn't sure she was going to like it. Bastila glanced at Master Zhar but his face was blank, telling her nothing. Master Dorak continued.
"Unfortunately, we know nothing of the Star Forge's location, or even what it is. Revan and Malak told no one, not even their most senior officers. The secrets of the Star Forge are buried in the minds of Malak and Revan. You have stayed here with Revan in the weeks since his betrayal but no doubt you have heard whispers of what has transpired since his capture. Strictly speaking, your mission was a success. Through Malak's actions, Revan was neutralized. However, Revan's demise has had unforeseen consequences regarding the Sith."
Master Dorak took a deep breath.
"Malak has taken the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. The transition has been flawless. Malak had been planning to betray his master for some time. While he isn't even half the commander Revan was, Malak has more than made up for this with his brutality. Revan conquered half the Republic but he preserved much of what he captured. Malak has none of his master's subtleties. Revan's goals were never clear but Malak is much easier to understand. Since the coup he has razed thirteen worlds. Malak seeks only to destroy and his strategy is simple: He plans on crushing Republic forces with an endless stream of reinforcements. If this Star Forge is the source from which his resources flow, I fear it is only a matter of time before we succumb under sheer weight of numbers."
Bastila's eyes went back to Revan. He looked like he was at peace, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.
"You wish to probe his mind?"
Master Vrook sighed.
"There are techniques through the Force by which one can hide their presence. These techniques can be used to shield a Jedi, or a Sith, against mental interference. Revan has undoubtedly learned techniques to protect himself against any attempt to delve into his mind. If he is to give up his secrets, it will have to be willingly."
The words came out slowly as she tried to comprehend what Master Vrook was trying to tell her.
"You… you plan to bring him back? But… the doctors said…"
"Nothing is impossible through the Force. There are methods by which he can be healed. They are seldom used because of the inherent danger in exercising the full power of the Force, both to the healer and the one to be healed. But Revan is strong both in body and mind and we have no other choice."
Bastila wanted to throw her arms around the stern Jedi Master and kiss him.
"But we will not restore him as Revan. He will be given a new identity. It is too dangerous to bring one of Revan's power back. He was rash and impulsive, even as a Jedi. When we are done, he will remember nothing of his former life. The secrets he holds will remain, but nothing else."
Her feelings of hope and optimism left her, replaced by a sensation that felt as if she had been struck in the stomach. She had to fight to keep from falling to the ground.
"Master… Revan redeemed himself… I felt it in him… I have already related what he said on the Titan. Revan returned to the light!"
Master Vrook shook his head in an admonishing manner.
"Is that what you believe? Lies, dishonesty, these are the ways of the dark side. Revan wields power unrivaled since the times of Exar Kun forty years ago. He always had a silver tongue and he is well versed in deceit. You let your feelings for him cloud your judgment."
The blow to her gut slowly became an emptiness, like she was falling. She barely felt Master Zhar put an arm around her.
"I'm sorry, Bastila. There is no other way."
Revan could hear voices. He faintly remembered blacking out on the bridge of the Titan. His next memory had been of the foul stench of kolto, the miraculous healing substance used for grievously wounded patients. Master Vrook was right to respect Revan's knowledge of the Force, but he had underestimated his strength. In all the time the doctors had thought his mind destroyed, he had been fully aware of his surroundings. He had buried his mind, removing any traces of brain activity, giving the illusion of a coma. He had felt Bastila's tears, still warm as she buried her head in her arms, folding them against his chest. He wanted so badly to kiss them away, to tell her everything would be alright, but he couldn't reveal himself… not yet. However he felt for her, however much guilt and sorrow he felt at hurting her, his distrust of the Jedi Council had not changed. He heard talk of the Star Forge and felt strong feelings of regret and guilt coursing through him.
The Star Forge. I rue the day I discovered its existence. I wish I could go back and destroy it. But we needed it…
The Star Forge had cost him his best friend, a brother. Malak had been transformed before his eyes from a vibrant, idealistic knight into a cold-blooded monster, reveling in whatever pain and misery he could inflict on a shattered galaxy. He had expected betrayal from one of his Sith followers eventually, but he had never suspected it would be Malak plunging the knife in his back. He had been betrayed… just as the Jedi Council had betrayed him years before.
Bastila's voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. Others gathered around him and Revan recognized all of them. Master Zhar, Master Vrook, Master Dorak… all men he'd once respected for their wisdom and vision. The contempt he felt for the Jedi Masters was only exceeded by his anger as he heard them speak.
So you wish to destroy me? To use me as you would one of the mindless drones of your Order? You will find the mind of a Sith Lord is not easily broken, you old fool.
He had to fight the urge to reach out with the Force and snatch the lightsaber from Vrook's belt and strike him down with it. But Master Dorak's words to Bastila sent a chill up his spine.
Malak will destroy everything. The beast has escaped its handler.
The Sith had been a tool, a dangerous weapon he wielded. Even in his hands, he had barely been able to control them. With Malak at their head, they would destroy everything he'd fought for. They would destroy the galaxy he'd sought to protect. Though it angered him, he realized he would need the Jedi as much as they needed him if he was still to complete his mission. If only his 'allies' weren't such fools.
"Please, anything but this!"
Bastila's voice tore at him. There was so much more at stake than his sense of self if the Jedi attempted to wipe his mind. With their feeble grasp of the Force he would be easily able to resist their crude attempts to erase his identity but the damage they would do would be catastrophic. In his countless hours of study in the teachings of ancient writings, of holocrons, both Jedi and Sith, Revan had fortified himself against mental attack. As a safeguard against intrusion, he had programmed his memory at an incredibly complex level.
Sensitive information, knowledge that could compromise him would be buried so deep not even he would be able to retrieve it. It would take some hidden external stimuli to unlock it. With those parts of his memory buried, he would have no way of recovering the information. Only Malak knew how to unlock his mind and vice versa. It had seemed a perfect system when he had devised it. Capture by the Jedi would reveal nothing of his plans.
Revan cursed: Himself for his 'ingenuity'. Malak for his betrayal. And the Jedi for their idiocy. If he hoped to stop Malak, the Star Forge would have to be destroyed. But the Star Forge would be hidden amongst the parts of his memory that would be irreparably scrambled.
Damn the Jedi!
If he had been able to control his body, tears of frustration would have welled up in his eyes. Bastila pleaded with the Masters to spare him and he could sense the desperation in her. It broke his heart knowing he had caused her this pain.
Damn Malak! Damn the Mandalorians! Damn the Republic! Damn my pride! Damn my foolishness! Damn it all to hell!
"Lieutenant Qelas Stasia, Serial No. 027-A384967, 182nd Special Reconnaissance Group… 24 years of age, homeworld Deralia… parents deceased, no siblings… elite combat training, finished second in his class at Republic Command Academy, Coruscant… decorated seven times for valor…"
Each new detail of Revan's alter ego stabbed into Bastila like a knife. The operation had gone perfectly, with no complications. Revan was… gone. All that remained was his shell. Whoever he was, he was no longer Revan.
"I'm sorry, Revan… I tried to stop them…"
She mouthed the words as much for her own benefit as his. She had failed him, she had let them murder him.
Revan's fears were realized as he felt pain shooting through his head. It was like watching a holovid being played backwards at full speed. Names and locations were disappearing from his memory and he was helpless to stop the loss. The mental safeguards he had placed could not be shut down, even by himself. And then it was over. He had retained his identity but lost everything else. Huge gaps in his memory fragmented everything he remembered from the end of the Mandalorian Wars. The fragile identity the Jedi had clumsily placed to mask their crime seemed to mock him. Every detail of his alter ego's life was as clear to him as if it were his own life. It wouldn't be difficult to switch between that which made him Revan and this façade, but his revulsion at the Jedi had never been greater. A burning hatred of the Jedi flowed through his veins, awakening the taint of the dark side within him. It took all his strength to prevent it from taking over once more.
He heard quiet sobbing. It was Bastila.
Everything will be alright, baby girl. I promise.
Sato Kast stepped off the freighter and took a deep breath. With the hordes of new refugees fleeing Malak, freight captains who normally made their living transporting mundane cargos for modest pay suddenly found a new, much more profitable market for their services. Every day it seemed, another long line of ugly freight carriers touched down on Coruscant, delivering its living cargo. The stench of desperate people packed in like livestock had hung in the air so densely he imagined he could have cut it with a knife. Compared to the freighter, even the filthy, polluted atmosphere of Coruscant seemed fresh.
When Malak's flagship had first fired on the Titan, Sato had known immediately Revan was dead. He had vacated the bridge along with the rest of his men, following Revan's orders. With the battle almost over, the Titan's shields had been powered down along the side facing the Sith fleet. The salvo the Leviathan had poured into Revan's ship had cut through the durasteel plating like paper. Everyone on the bridge was wiped out with the first hit. As Malak systematically raked the floundering Titan with more fire, Sato had known it wouldn't be long before the Titan's main reactors were hit, turning the Sith dreadnought into space dust. The escape pods had been one of Malak's first targets, causing panic in the ranks of Revan's crew. The new Sith Lord knew he couldn't let any loyal to his old master survive. But as Revan's personal bodyguard, Sato knew Revan kept his small personal fighter in a hidden hanger near the bridge. Facing away from Malak's fire and heavily armored, the hanger had survived. Taking Revan's ship, Sato had managed to escape just as the reactors exploded, consuming the mighty Titan in a ball of flame reportedly seen even light years away. Out of a crew of almost twenty thousand, he was the only survivor.
Malak had hunted down Revan's Imperial Guard after the battle, dispatching the deadly Sith assassins Revan had trained to hunt Jedi after the former Dark Lord's protectors. Already few in number after Revan's ambush, it hadn't taken long for the disorganized survivors to be eliminated. As far as Sato knew, he was the last of Revan's elite bodyguard core. He was a survivor, he had always been. Waving down one of the ubiquitous yellow Coruscant air taxis, he climbed in and paid the driver, adding a generous bonus on top of the standard fare.
"Take me to the bounty office. And no questions."
Carth Onasi's nerves were completely frayed. He'd spent yet another sleepless night loading and unloading cargo onto the Endar Spire, struggling to tailor the ship to the exact specifications given to him by the Jedi. Already he had assigned crews to tear out most of the communications array and practically stripped the ship down to its frame replacing this gizmo and that gadget. He yawned. He hadn't slept in three days. Carth shook his head. He should be used to this by now. The Republic Fleet was his life. Completely dedicated, on the surface he was the perfect soldier, a true patriot. In truth, his fanatical dedication to the Fleet was because he had nothing else left to hold onto.
"No! What do you think you're doing soldier? These compartments are reserved for mission-specific equipment! Standard supplies go in the stern of the ship!"
He'd had a life once. A family, wife, son, beautiful home on the beloved planet of his birth. All of it had been taken away in a few hours. Three hours of surface bombardment by a Sith battle fleet led by a man he'd once considered a friend and mentor. Telos, his homeworld, all he'd ever known and loved, was completely gone.
It had been one of the first worlds destroyed when Darth Revan's armada returned from the depths of space. Admiral Saul Karath, a man he'd looked up to his entire career, had been at the head of the fleet, giving the command as Sith dreadnoughts lined up above the planet and opened fire. The worse part was, Telos hadn't even been a military target. It had been razed as a test of loyalty for Saul when he turned to the Sith – a test he passed with flying colors.
I swear I'll kill you for that Saul. I'll find you someday… and when that day comes I'll make you pay…
Carth sighed. He couldn't remember how many times he'd sworn that oath, a promise to his beloved wife, a vow he seemed further than ever from fulfilling. Every day while the Republic got weaker, the Sith armada under Admiral Karath's command claimed another victory. With Darth Revan gone, his traitorous apprentice Malak had relied heavily on Admiral Karath's military experience – experience he'd earned defending the Republic he was now set on destroying. But this mission would change all that, or so the Jedi said. Darth Malak would be stopped, the Sith menace would be destroyed, the traitors who followed Malak brought to justice.
The Jedi have been saying that since this war began. I'll believe it when I see it.
He didn't even know anything about this mission other than its departure date. Everything on this mission was top secret, classified at the highest levels, information distributed on a need-to-know basis. Like all of the senior staff and most of the crew, he'd been handpicked for this mission, pulled from his place on the bridge of the Renown, a small frigate raiding Sith supply lines and given vague orders to report to location such-and-such and report to admiral so-and-so for a briefing. Carth ground his teeth together.
Why is it everything the Jedi do has to be 'classified'? For all their talk of the virtues of honesty and integrity, they sure do keep a lot of secrets.
It was only three in the morning, about four hours until sunrise on Coruscant. The Endar Spire was supposed to depart at 06:00 hours, the next day. He would have a lot of work to do if they were going to be ready.
"Commander Onasi, have you processed the crew manifest I requested yesterday?"
Carth felt like pulling his hair out.
"No, Miss Shan, I haven't. The crew roster hasn't even been finalized. Data on the exact makeup of the personnel on this mission is still largely restricted – as per your orders, Ma'am."
He said 'ma'am' in an annoyed tone. All the secrecy was bad enough, but what was worse had been taking orders from a spoiled teenager almost young enough to be his daughter. Just like everyone else in the Republic, Carth knew all about Bastila's amazing Battle Meditation and while he was definitely grateful she was on their side, it didn't mean they had to get along personally.
"Well as soon as this information is available, I'd like you to deliver the document to my quarters."
Carth let out a silent sigh of relief she let him go so easily. Bastila and the rest of the Jedi had only shown up two days ago but already the 'Jedi princess', as she was being dubbed, was getting on everyone's nerves.
The things I do for the Republic.
The apartment manager looked up from her desk at the sound of knocking. Frowning, she rose to her feet and walked to the door. It was almost three in the morning. Who would come calling at this ungodly hour? When she unlocked the door, a young man stood before her. He was tall, with dark brown eyes that matched his hair. He had a handsome face that she recognized. How could she not? Two hundred credits slipped under the table each month on top of the normal rent could keep anybody's memory fresh. This one particularly treasured his privacy and paid her to keep her mouth shut about his comings and goings.
It really didn't matter. She didn't know that much about him and didn't really want to. Anybody who was willing to pay that much to remain hidden wasn't somebody she wanted to anger. But she was still surprised to see him. It had been almost a year since she'd seen him last. Normally, she would have rented his apartment out again after such a long absence, but as long as the credits kept rolling in, she was willing to make an exception.
"I'm very sorry to be disturbing you at such an hour ma'am, but I lost my keycard at the spaceport along with my luggage."
His polite manner was something that also stood out in her mind. He was unlike any of the other tenants at the rundown apartment. From his cultured manner, she had always been sure he was some sort of a spy or agent, using the apartment as a hideaway. Maybe even a criminal Exchange operative. She shuddered at that thought.
"Of course, Mr. Kun, I understand. Just give me a moment… here you go."
The Coruscant sun was just peeking over the horizon, bathing the planet in an eerie blood-red light. Revan opened his eyes, pulling himself slowly from the floor where he'd fallen asleep. He was glad he'd rented the apartment earlier on during the Mandalorian Wars. It had served as a base of operations and a storage space for the few occasions he had to spend time at Republic Fleet headquarters on Coruscant. He'd maintained it all through his long hiatus after the war and even after his return to Republic space. Since he'd been so careful to hide his face and identity during the Mandalorian Wars, he was able to move throughout Republic space largely with impunity, like a ghost, gathering information and establishing contact networks that stretched all the way from the Outer Rim to the halls of the Galactic Senate. This apartment had served as his safe house.
It wasn't fancy, but it was better than staying in the spartan accommodations at the nearby military base the Republic called 'barracks'. Revan smiled at the thought. As soon as they had seen the inside of the hideous, gray, concrete structure, almost all of the soldiers had immediately requested they be allowed to find accommodations somewhere off base.
My first day as a soldier. This should be interesting.
The Jedi had done everything short of giving him cosmetic surgery in establishing his new identity. Financial records, criminal records, a completely new past and personal history. When he'd checked out of the infirmary, the nurse had handed him a pack containing his standard issue equipment and told him he'd received orders from his 'superiors' to report to Coruscant for a special assignment. Careful to research every pertinent detail of his new alias, Revan knew the 182nd Special Reconnaissance Group well. It was no coincidence his alter ego had been assigned to this unit. An elite commando force, soldiers from the 182nd were the best the Republic could offer. Men from the unit were often assigned without warning to sensitive missions. They also often disappeared on battlefields nobody had ever heard of, their names buried in confidential files rather than commemorated at monuments to Republic war dead.
If whatever mission the Council has planned for me fails, nobody will ever know I existed.
The roots of the 182nd lay in the Mandalorian Wars. Its origins were shrouded in secrecy, its founder and the circumstances behind its creation a mystery. That was because the founder was himself. Seeing the effectiveness of small squads of Mandalorian shock troops against clumsy Republic armies, he'd immediately created several elite units mirroring the Mandalorian model. The 182nd had been one of these pioneer units.
Revan had actually followed the unit into battle for its first mission, although no one would ever know. He'd hidden his face behind an armored mask and become just another faceless soldier. As a military commander, Revan had been a firm believer in seeing a battlefield with his own two eyes, feeling the flow of a skirmish by immersing himself in it. Often shedding his robes and donning the simple uniform of a foot soldier, he'd journeyed to the front often. Though it had been looked upon with disdain by other Jedi, even those who'd followed him and been exiled from the Order, Revan had spent many hours training with common soldiers, working to become proficient with as many weapons as he could, from light carbine blasters to heavy repeaters. It wouldn't be much of a challenge passing himself off as a commando.
Shading his eyes from the early morning light, he slowly pulled on his clothes, a pair of black combat trousers and a simple shirt. Rolling up the sleeves to just above his elbows, he strapped on his body armor. For all their efforts at passing him off as a soldier, the equipment he had been issued by the Jedi would have been a dead giveaway. Elite troops like those of the 182nd were made up of veterans, men who'd seen war and tasted blood. Their equipment tended to be an odd mix of standard and substandard. The weapons and armor the Republic issued to its soldiers was heavy and unwieldy, fine for action on the ground at the frontlines where protection and firepower were a priority, but hardly ideal for those who had to be able to move, like on a ship or for commando infantry. The armor Revan pulled over his shoulders was based loosely on that worn by Mandalorian scout troops. Made of an expensive durasteel alloy, it was light and allowed him a full range of movement but was still just as protective as the full body armor suits issued by the Republic. The well-worn, charcoal black finish was designed to virtually disappear from infrared sensors, making the wearer practically invisible in low light. Going to the refresher, Revan looked at himself in the mirror. He'd never had very heavy facial hair but after two days without shaving, he had a healthy amount of stubble covering his lower face. Deciding not to worry about it, he ran his fingers through his hair. The almost shoulder-length locks would have to go. Pulling a long knife from the scabbard strapped to his lower calf, he cut his hair down to a more manageable length.
In two hours time, the Endar Spire would be leaving. He had to be on the landing platform with at least a half hour to spare. Grabbing his heavy pack from the bed, he slung a light carbine over his shoulder and stepped into the hall.
Bastila slipped out of her robe, stepping into the shower and closing her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of the warm water against her bare skin. Today was the day she'd be embarking on her first mission as a fleet commander, a day she would have been looking forward to if not for the circumstances. Whenever she'd been sent to battle, it had always been under the guidance of another Jedi, normally a Master, and it was always on a huge dreadnought in the back of the fleet where she could be protected. She had chafed at this, knowing much less accomplished Jedi already had fleets of their own to command. Though she knew how valuable her Battle Meditation was, she'd always felt so useless at the rear, seemingly unable to do anything directly to influence the course of a battle. It wasn't that she liked war, it was just she had received command training just like every other Jedi and she wanted the chance to prove herself, to prove she wasn't another eighteen-year-old Padawan. She had begged the Council for a mission of her own for a long time and now she had it.
It seems fate, or the Force, is not without a sense of irony.
The mission seemed simple enough. A small task force led by the cruiser Endar Spire was to embark on a patrol to the Outer Rim, presumably on a secret reconnaissance mission probing for weak points in the Sith lines. What the mission really was however, only she, the Council, and a few of the other more senior Jedi knew. Somewhere in the contingent of six hundred soldiers accompanying them was a commando, a Lieutenant Qelas Stasia, Revan's new identity. The task force's real mission was to take him back to his old Mandalorian War battlefields, to places he had visited before he'd returned to the Republic as a conquering Sith Lord.
The operation had seemed successful at first. Revan had taken to his new identity perfectly. But try as the Council might, they could not get him to reveal anything. The information they sought was gone, buried somewhere deep in his subconscious. If any of this information was to be recovered, it would have to be triggered by some sort of external stimuli, quite possibly one of his old Mandalorian War battlefields. It would most likely be Malachor, setting for the horrific battle that ended the Mandalore War, or possibly Onderon, his first command. In truth though, it could be any place or any thing he had encountered over the last three years. The mission was a stab into the dark, another act of desperation by a Republic running out of time.
Bastila felt hollow. Despite what the Council had said, that there was no other choice, that this was Revan's chance to redeem himself for all the evil he'd done, it tore her apart, lying to him and using him like this. The Revan she knew may have been dead, but she couldn't help but feel, and hope, that a part of him still lived in his new identity.
I could have stopped them. I could have tried harder to save him.
She turned off the water and dried her hair, braiding it back into two short ponytails. Pulling a few strands out from behind her ears, she let them fall alongside her temples, framing her face on either side. A lot of other female Jedi had cut their hair short to keep it from falling in their faces, something she'd considered doing once. When she asked Revan for his opinion though, he'd laughed.
"Bastila, being practical is important, but there is a point where you're going too far. Jedi or not, you're the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes upon and it seems you've become more beautiful with each passing day. Why you would even think of cutting your hair to look like a boy is beyond me. Even Jedi have to be allowed to take pride in how they look."
She'd beamed at his compliment and decided on braiding it and tying it back as a compromise. She thought it made her look like a little girl, something she definitely didn't want, but when Revan first saw her, his eyes had lit up and she'd known then she'd made the right choice. A simple smile, that was all that was needed for him to tell her exactly what he thought.
I would give anything to have him look at me like that again.
Scolding herself for letting her feelings for him rise to the surface, she slipped into her Jedi robes and clipped her lightsaber to her belt.
I have a mission. The Jedi Council and the Republic are counting on me to accomplish it.