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"What? I named myself?" Bastila's assertion that I had selected my own name was unnerving, not to mention confusing as hell.
"Come," she said standing to her full height. "We must seek the Council's wisdom in this matter. They will know of some training to assist you."
"No!" I growled. "They've done enough. Or do you suggest they perform another mind-wipe so I no longer have these thoughts? You realize now that my mind did not change from the Dark Side, it was changed for me. Do you think I am falling back, and I need another round of shock therapy to keep me on the straight and narrow? To do the Council's bidding?"
Bastila slumped, then sunk into the chair beside me. She reached out and took my hands into hers. Her voice was soft and gentle. "Jiara, trust me, please. The Council did not wipe your mind. It was lost; we all reached out to you, but there was nothing. We could not understand the total emptiness. We had hoped to reason with you, to bring you back to the Light, but you were gone."
"How can that be, Bastila? I find it difficult to believe a blast nowhere near my head so completely erased my mind. I mean, I have suffered worse SINCE then." She looked away from me and almost broke her hold on my hands. I gripped back tightly. "What are you not telling me?" I demanded. For the first time ever, I wished our bond was back.
"I have not told this even to the Masters," she whispered. "When I was captured, and Malak," she paused, "Malak was torturing me, he told me something. He gloated about how he had defeated his former master, how clever his plan had been—I suppose it was his way of letting me know I would not win against him. He said that during the bombardment of your ship, he targeted you with a psychic attack. That had been his true plan, to kill your mind, not just your body. He concealed his Force powers in the physical energy that felled you: we never suspected it, nor detected any trace. Like you, we were diverted by the blaster fire, which left us unguarded."
"Why haven't you told the Council about this?" I asked, suspicious of her motives. Was the story even true? It could be another ploy, I thought, to make me forgive and accept the Council's actions. Replacing my thoughts instead of wiping my mind was a better-sounding position.
"Because, the masters believe the trauma is physical in nature, that your mind is damaged and unable to recover on its own. If they knew the damage was Force related, and that you might be able to overcome it one day…"
"They would wipe my mind then, is that what you are saying? Afraid they would lose all the hard work they put into me?"
"Despite what you believe, you were not 'programmed' to obey the Council's wishes. Your body healed, but your mind was blank. You laid there in bed, breathing and blinking, nothing more. The Council decided to give you a life free of your past. There was no need to try you for your crimes—you were no longer in control of the mind that made those decisions. Your punishment had been served, Revan was dead. They began to reconstruct a life for you, based on the Revan they knew, the student and padawan who studied at the academy, the knight who defeated the Mandalorians. I am told you are much like that Revan, headstrong, charismatic and commanding. They gave you old memories, and new ones. You were tested each day to see if the information was forming properly, but we never forced any decisions on you after the initial building blocks were provided. We asked you who you were as progress was made, you answered one day that your name was Jiara. We assumed it is an old family name."
"No," I breathed. So this explained why the name seemed so personal, so right, even after I learned of my past as Revan. Bastila looked at me expectantly, but I said nothing.
"Your reasons are your own," she said with some disappointment. She regained her composure then continued. "As you became more and more aware, a course was agreed upon for you. The council had you placed in the Republic as a decorated soldier. It was decided I would accompany you from a distance to make sure you were adjusting to your new life. I was not to interfere or interact with you in any way. The memories of your recovery and time spent among the Jedi were removed, in order for you to start fresh. You were your own woman, free to do as you pleased. We had no plans for you at all."
"But the Star Forge mission, the training…"
"If you could not remember who you were, how could you remember what you did? The Star Maps and Star Forge were as great a mystery to you as to us. There was no indication that the mind the Council had constructed for you was Force sensitive. There was no way of knowing if your command was gone, or dormant. Knowing now that Malak had invaded your thoughts…well, it was only a matter of time before your Force sensitivity was reawakened. I assume the crash landing on Taris brought that forward sooner rather than later."
"So they took me in for training to avoid another fall," I mumbled to myself. Master Vrook's words came back to me, with a haunting new meaning 'What if we train this one, and the dark lord returns?' I felt sick at the remembrance.
"Yes, and when your visions of the star maps presented themselves, we acted upon the opportunity the Force had given us."
I knew she spoke the truth. Or at least I ached to believe it. But I was still living a lie. Everything I had done these past few months was not my chosen path. I was not born to do these things; I was made to do them. Made to believe it was all my will. But it felt like my choice, each and every time. As Revan, I chose the Dark, as Jiara I walked in the Light. Which one was I? "Bastila, were you ever going to tell me? That I was Revan?" I asked at last.
"It was not my place. I was instructed by the Council…"
"That's no answer," I snapped, cutting her off with a scowl. She seemed unmoved by my outburst.
"No, I suppose it isn't," she sighed. "Let me ask you this. If I did not remember my fall, that I served Malak and used my battle meditation against the Republic, that I had tempted you to return with me to rule the Sith again, would you remind me of it?"
The anger left me. I had never thought of it that way. I did not hold her fall against her. She was tortured into submission, and she chose to return to the light. "That is different, you are not me," I stuttered.
"It is exactly the same, and I can see by your expression you would not have told me. You would have protected me from that shame, allowed me a spotless future to continue my Jedi training that I so love." There was a pain in her voice, a pain I understood and was far too familiar with. The Council may have awarded her forgiveness, but she held it from herself.
"You tell me not to punish myself. I think you should heed those words too."
"It is, whether it is right, or wrong. It just is. And I go on with what this has made of me, what I have become. Whoever you sort yourself out to be, you must go on with it. And who is to say which path is right for you? I hope you stay this course: I admire all that you have done since joining with you on Taris. I cannot thank you enough for saving me, both, I admit, from those bloody Vulkars, and from myself on the Star Forge. I have made peace with myself, but you have a ways to travel. May the Force be with you on that journey, as will I."
"I suppose I do need a conscience," I said with a small laugh. "Since the Star Forge, I cannot seem to do anything right."
"You are referring to that lovesick pilot, aren't you?"
I blushed. "Am I so easy to figure out? You know, Bastila, you should try it."
"Try what?" she eyed me suspiciously.
"You know, having a friend—well, more than a friend," I smiled. "Fighting for what is right, maintaining that ideal is a noble goal. But it is so much easier when you have a name, a face, a voice to fight for. Letting yourself down is a simple weakness, but when you have a responsibility to another, you stay strong; you have a reason to fight the darkness. I could not let Carth down that day at the temple…" My thoughts got ahead of me, and I stopped instantly when I saw where I was heading. Bastila looked away, but I could feel her sadness…her loneliness. Even with our bond severed, I could tell her thoughts—she had fallen because she had no one to keep her strong, to defy the dark side's call. She took a deep breath, then turned back to me, a steeled resolve in her eyes. I braced myself for the lecture.
"The Council frowns on such attachments, I try to keep myself above such things. What if the one you lean on for support falters? Doing good for the sake of good will never disappoint."
"What I had to do on the Star Forge was for the sake of good. Malak was my friend, Bastila; that I could not save him was more than a disappointment," I said looking down as I struggled against the tears. "If, in the end, he had believed in me more than the Dark Side…I did not want to kill Malak, but you two were just on the other side of the door; knowing Malak would have harmed Carth if I allowed him to live," I sighed and shuddered at the thought. "Caring for Carth gave me the strength to do what had to be done."
"You make a compelling case, but surely it cannot always bring such peace of mind to be dependent on another," she said more to convince herself.
"I admit there were times I did want to strangle him!" I joked, but she did not share my smile. "I enjoy Carth's company, to a point," I sighed. "…and then everything just stops. I mean, well, there has been nothing physical. Nothing. On the Star Forge, before we left the Hawk, he squeezed my shoulder, wished me luck and told me to stay strong. That was IT. And even that seemed a struggle for him."
"He is a noble man," Bastila said stiffly. "He did not want to overstep his place."
"Spare me!" I snorted. "We are heading for certain death and he can do no more than that? He was not ready, then or now," I sighed.
"He has proposed to you four times, I think this shows…"
"He is holding back, Bastila, I can sense it in him. He goes through the motions, but he still has yet to even hold my hand, let alone anything else," I grumbled. Bastila's cheeks colored as she considered my words. "He hovers around me, like the old saying, the moth to the flame: attracted, unable to leave, but unable to touch. He has come so far from the person he was, the man I met on Taris, but there is still a wall, one last barrier he clings to that separates him from me. I cannot seem to break it down, he seems unwilling to lower that defense."
"You know what it is, don't you?" she intoned sadly.
"Of course, how could I not know?" I said with a slight edge of anger. "Maybe if I was just Jiara, not 'the Dark Lord-formerly-known-as-Revan' maybe it would be easier. But I doubt it." I took a deep breath and paused. "I am a moth too, I suppose. I want to be with him, and the time spent along side him is so peaceful…until I think about the life he had, before…. The guilt I have for that single loss of life, a woman I never knew, seems greater than everything else I did. And thinking about that makes me feel even worse. I do not deserve him, I deserve the solitary life of the Jedi, that is my penance."
"Being a Jedi and following the Order is NOT penance!" Bastila yelped.
"Yes it is, and you know it," I laughed, and she joined me this time, the tension had been lifted. "I find myself more and more in Canderous's company. I feel no guilt or regret with him…and no fear. That is refreshing."
"He holds for you great respect for defeating him in the war. I have been told he was actually pleased to learn you were Revan. That is most disturbing." Bastila said with a shiver.
"Yes, and he has called me by that name ever since. From him I do not mind, for some reason. I guess it is because with him, Revan is not the monster everyone else knows."
"Running from the problem does not make it go away," she cautioned. A chirp sounded over the comm-link at the door. I stood and began to make my way over to answer it.
"No, but it makes ME go away, and sometimes, that is all that is required."