Malak parries another blow and lunges forward into the opening, only to find himself backtracking as Revan circumvents his attack and pounces forward again, and it takes all of his skill to deflect the blow. It's been a good five minutes since any of them landed a touch, but she has him in a corner now, and oh, she thinks she's won, doesn't she?

"I yield," he pants, pretending to catch his breath, but ducks to the side and right under the practice sword that comes slashing towards his head, because Revan may be a sore loser, but so is he, and he'll be damned if he doesn't at least try to win this round.

"That's cheating," she huffs, and she's not entirely wrong, but seeing as she didn't fall for it in the first place... well.

"Oh, and since when are we playing fair?" he says, lunging forward again. Revan is quick to retreat, but not quick enough, and the tip of his blade makes contact with her collar-bone.

"Got you."

"Barely felt it," she says with an impish smile, because of course she's going to find a way to brag about losing.

"Oh yeah?" he laughs as she gets back on guard, and really, he doesn't know why he's even surprised.

"Come on, don't tell me you're tired already."

Very well then, he'll play along.

"Me? Oh, no. I never tire of winning."

"Winning, uh? Think you can back that up?"

"Yep."

He rises his sword to strike again, but she's faster this time and dives right underneath his arm, her own blade sliding across his whole torso. He should have seen it coming. This one might bruise.

"Alright, you got me," he admits, and the truth is, it's almost embarrassing how unprepared he was for her to step into the breach so quickly – because using their ridiculously mismatched heights against one another is something they've both done since they were padawans, and he knows exactly how to react when she tries that… and yet she still beat him with the exact same trick.

"Of course, I did," she says in between two breaths.

He leans back against the bulkhead, and cannot help but shake his head as she gives him that wry little smile she can never quite contain when she's a little too proud of herself. Sparring with her… well, it's something. And not just because she's slipped back into her old habit of teasing him or getting cocky whenever she lands a blow, but mostly because… well. Memories. Good, bad, mixed, fond or painful, but today… today there's no distraction from the present moment, no war, no Leviathan, no laying down in the tall grass behind the old ruins on Dantooine. No bodies and no pain. Just her, and the way he tries not to think about how close she's still standing as she readjusts her robes and tucks a stray lock behind her ear.

"Force," she pants, "I need a shower."

"You do."

Now, to be frank, so does he. And a drink. But there's no way he's having one before she leaves the room.

"Why, you…"

Malak throws his hands up.

"Didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did," she chides, wagging an accusing finger at him, but she's got that smile again and he can tell she's not being all that serious.

"Alright," he says, "let me put the blades away." Her fingertips brush against his as she hands him her sword, and when he doesn't pull back, she drops the blade and inches closer, and oh, now she's really, really close, isn't she? And before he truly registers what the two of them are doing, their fingers interlace, and he leans forward into her warmth, his heart drumming and drumming, until her free hand lands there and everything else seems to stop, and for the briefest of moments the world out there doesn't exist and it's only the two of them, just touching and breathing and being and Force. Force does he want to kiss her. He won't. He can't. He remembers the last time, the very last and final time, standing on top of the temple on Lehon, when everything was theirs and nothing could harm them – nothing, save their insatiable hunger for more. He remembers the sun slowly setting behind her, painting the ocean red as it sank below the horizon. Perhaps more than anything, he remembers her eyes. He remembers her gaze burning into his soul, the hideous beauty of those piercing, golden eyes, and the odd mix of terror and elation that had seized him in that moment. The way time had frozen, and they kept on burning. Her hands, her lips, her breath, his heart beating and beating long after she was gone… It wasn't all that long ago, barely a week before she… before it all started crumbling. No, he mentally corrects himself, it started long before that, long before they even knew. It's a such slow, quiet thing to fall … it's the landing that breaks your bones. And as much as he tries to ignore the thought, tries to conceal it from her, he doesn't quite succeed. Revan draws back, and the spell is broken.

"What is it?" she asks, and Malak can feel the concern in her voice.

He should tell her the truth.

"Nothing."

And well, that's not exactly the truth, but from a certain point of view, it's not a lie either. There's a whole big 'nothing' right underneath his nose, and as much as he wishes it weren't there or that she had nothing to do with it, as much as he wishes he could hold her and not think about it… well. That simply isn't the case.

"Do you truly expect me to believe that?"

No. Of course not. The inconvenient thing with people like Revan is that they can usually spot lies a parsec away. And that's perfectly fine, even useful sometimes… until you're the one trying to hide something.

"Malak, please. Tell me the truth."

But the truth hurts, and Force knows he's not ready for it to be out there in the open. She's not either.

You can't know that for her, his inner voice whispers.

"I'm…"

A coward. Tell her the truth. Be done with it. Now.

"Can you give me time?"

Oh, sithspit. So much for ripping off the kolto patch.

The thing is, telling her makes it more real, and he doesn't want it to be. He knows he's pretending, knows he's not very good at it, but pretending is nice, and he wants 'nice' to last just a little longer. He'll have to tell her, eventually, but not now. For now, he only wants to enjoy the illusion that the past is but a bad dream. That they could have been happy. That none of them is a monster. If only he were that good at lying to himself.

"Will time make it easier?"

It won't. There's no amount of time, no amount of forgiveness, that can ever make the memory even remotely close to tolerable.

Malak looks away.

"I don't… no. But I can't… Look, when we… met on the Leviathan, I wanted nothing more than to hurt you. In fact, that's the only reason I told you who you were. But I don't want that now, and it's not just that, it's… look, I'm scared of finding out."

Because what if she remembers, and he can no longer pretend that she didn't, and what if he can't find it in him to forgive her then? What if she can't either? What if she ends up reliving it, all of it? What about the guilt? Or what if there's no guilt at all? What if…

"Scared of finding out what?"

"How you'd react."

And to be fair, it's not a lie either, it's just… not the entire truth.

"Oh, Malak, I…"

"Revan, just… please stop asking."

There's a moment of silence before she speaks again.

"Okay," she says softly, and her hand slowly slides out of his. She leaves without another word.

They do not speak again that night, and in the morning she gives him that look that says so much more than just 'I'm sorry' that he simply cannot help but feel sorry as well. Truly, he has reason to be, and it doesn't help to think that no matter what happens next, what they've done to each other – he doesn't even call it by name at this point… well, it will always be there. No matter how many times they spar in the cargo hold, how many times they meditate or work on their lightsabers together, how many times he sits with her and tells her about the small things that she's forgotten and in spite of everything, in spite of what he knows, it feels like coming home. No matter how further away the ugliness of their fall grows with each passing day. It's there. It's always there. Like the sharks in the crystal-clear waters of Lehon, or a krayt dragon beneath the golden sands of Tatooine. Always lurking. And always there. Whether he wants it or not. Whether he loves her or not.


Malak is standing in the galley, frantically scrubbing the counter-top, when he hears Revan's footsteps coming his way from the other end of the corridor. He knew the smell would draw her out. He just didn't expect it to happen so fast.

"Wh… what on Coruscant are you doing?" she asks.

Malak turns around.

"Cooking. Experimenting."

Revan looks at him with round eyes.

"Experimenting? You can't event taste it!"

Which is technically true, but he's not about to concede that.

"Well, that's rude. Besides, that's not for me."

"For who, then?"

"It's Mission's birthday. She's turning fifteen."

There's no need to rub salt in the wound and tell her why the kid's birthday even matters to him, but he knows she's important to Revan, and as inconsequential as it may seem, after everything that's happened, after everything he's done, there's a small degree of comfort in knowing there's something to celebrate.

"She barely even talks to you."

She grew up on Taris. Of course she barely talks to him.

"So? Jolee said to be nice. I'm trying to be nice."

"You're just bored."

"Not just bored."

Revan stops in front of the oven and takes a look at the two cakes that are practically done baking.

"You didn't have to make two."

"I wanted to make two."

"Why?"

"Grab a plate."

Revan quirks an eyebrow.

"The small one is for you," he clarifies.

"Why, am I a test subject now?"

"Of course not. You actually used to like this. I wanted to know if you still did."

Revan seems to consider, opens her mouth, closes it, lifts an index finger, and takes a breath as she seems to realise something.

"Is this about yesterday?"

Well, not completely. It's also Mission's birthday.

"Maybe a little."

Revan casts him a questioning look.

"And… cake is going to help?"

"Not really. But cake is nice. I think."

"You don't make sense sometimes, you know that?"

He does, but he's not about to admit to that either.

"I'm trying to apologise."

Revan sighs.

"Malak, you don't have to. If anything, I'm the one who should be apologising to you."

Malak turns off the oven and takes the smallest cake out before putting it down on the countertop.

"Does that mean you don't want the cake?"

"Oh… I don't know, it smells nice."

"It does."

"Show off."

"It doesn't count as showing off if it's true."

"Said who?"

"Said you." He reaches into the top cabinet. "Plate?"

"I feel bad eating in front of you."

Malak shrugs.

"I'll just finish cleaning. Besides, it can't be worse than an official dinner at the Ahto High Court."

"They invited you to that?"

Yes. Yes they did, and, in their deliciously caustic irony, they placed no less than three sets of knives and forks in front of him, before casually remarking that it was a pity he could not enjoy the sophistication of Selkath cuisine, and proceeding to gulp down their food.

"Uh uh. Spent the whole night stuffing their faces. Judge Kota wouldn't discuss the new Kolto exports deal with an empty belly, Johsa thought a regular meeting was inappropriate, and Chief Justice Shelkar had a shrimp cocktail craving, so I just sat there watching them eat."

"Oh. Nice."

"Yeah, well, I suppose Shelkar never liked me much, which I don't exactly blame him for. But I did sign the deal."

And it may not be something to boast about now that he's switched sides, but he has to admit, he's still a little bit proud of himself for maintaining some self-control while the judges pigged out in front of him for three hours in a row.

"Well, in that case, you've got exactly two seconds to change your mind before I start shovelling it in," Revan says before sticking her spoon into the still steaming muffin and tucking in.

"It's really good! What's in it?"

"Chocolate." He pauses. "Don't tell me you've forgotten about chocolate."

"I've forgotten about chocolate."

Malak scrunches his nose, because it may be his fault to begin with, but still, it's a little worse than he'd initially assumed.

"Well… it was your favourite Life Day treat. You'd keep a stash under your bed and swear you were going to make it last the year, but it was usually gone within a week. Two, if you behaved."

"Oh Force… how old was I?"

"What, you mean when you started or when you didn't stop?"

"You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Before she can make a reply, Mission barges into the room and drops a datapad onto the table.

"You guys are in trouble."

"Why, is Atris mad at us again?"

Mission picks up the device and hands it to him.

"She might be when she reads this."

In the centre of the screen, there's a picture of Revan and him at an electrical retailer, and Revan has one hand on his forearm while the other is pointing at something on the shelf, and while there is nothing wrong with the picture itself, Malak very nearly crushes the datapad as he begins reading the title aloud.

"Budding Romance between Jedi Hero and Sith Tyrant?! What the…"

Revan nearly chokes on her cake, then takes a deep breath and leans over the datapad as well.

"Wait, that picture's from two days ago, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"This is ridiculous."

"Exactly. I mean look at that. We're buying a blender, for kriff's sake. A Stupid. Boring. Blender."

Come to think of it, that is possibly the most un-romantic situation he could think of – and yes, that includes Korriban. Mission winces a bit.

"Well, you also look a bit… close?"

Malak can't stop himself from glaring at the kid.

"What?" she says, throwing her hands up. "Clearly, I'm not the only one getting suspicious."

Malak ignores the comment and scrolls down the page.

Jedi Knight Jyn Thule and former Sith Lord Malak appeared closer than ever during a shopping session at Tenement Depot earlier this week. According to an eye-witness, the unlikely duo visited the outlet on Monday, looking 'companionable and relaxed' as they browsed through kitchen appliances. While one of Tenement Depot's customers was prompt to label the pair as 'cute', another did not seem to share her optimistic appraisal: 'I don't know what she's thinking. The man vitrified a planet for *****'s sake! I hope she realises that.' The Jedi Temple has denied any knowledge of the affair, and declined all requests to comment on the matter. The enigmatic Miss Thule – whose role in recent events has propelled her to galaxy-wide stardom – has become the object of intense public speculation in the past few weeks. 'Word is they knew each other before the war,' an anonymous source declared. 'I don't see how else she could have changed his mind so quickly'. While it remains to be confirmed, a relationship between the two would no doubt revive the long-standing debate around the Jedi Order's 'no attachments policy' – a controversial tradition that has gradually morphed into rule, and remains strictly observed by Jedi of all ages and backgrounds. Another issue remains the legal status of Lord Malak himself, whose crimes against the Republic have yet to be examined by competent jurisdictions, either as citizen of the Republic, or as foreign head of state. Whatever the outcome of the story, one thing appears certain: Miss Thule is in for a bumpy ride.

Bariss Lane

Of course. Of course it had to be her.