I was lost, in more ways than one. Since leaving the hotel, I had lost track of time, lost track of myself. Now I could see nothing, feel nothing. Nothing…darkness was all around me. It felt as if it were seeping into me, trying to reach the shadow in my soul. Or was it my darkness escaping outward? I tried to find something to hold my thoughts away from this. I would not give in. I tried to think of the Jedi Code, but the words were hollow. I needed something personal, something I believed…trusted. What did I have, in my lie of a life, to believe and trust? Carth was wise to suspect everyone…Carth. Mission, Jolee, Bastila…my friends, my crew. I would hold to them, anchor me in this storm. Yes, they would see me through, each in their own way.
Mission came to me first. Her easy, sweet smile, her steady hand breaching a security panel. Mission was a blue contradiction. On the outside, she was a tough worldly young woman; on the inside, a vulnerable innocent little girl. She saw the world through both sets of eyes: the little girl held on to her brother's promises, but the young woman knew Griff was a lying con man. She clung tightly to the hope her brother would come for her; after confronting him at last on Tatooine, her dreams were shattered. I expected her to be angry with him, to hate him for what he had done to her. Instead, she saw the good and bad in him and accepted him for what he was. Good and bad, right and wrong. Light and Dark. If only it were that simple. Maybe it is, in the end.
Zaalbar was next to visit my mind. Like me now, he was avoiding a past disgrace. Unlike me, his shame was a lie. Exiled from his homeland as a Madclaw, banished from his royal house by a false charge from his own brother. The accusation was allowed to stand through Zaalbar's absence. His running away turned the lie into the truth for his people. This was his secret burden and he punished himself as if it were his due. Until he looked back and dealt with the past, he could not look forward to the future. When he returned at last and confronted his accuser, he reclaimed his heritage, his name, his pride. His identity.
Canderous was certainly not running from his past: he embraced it, clutched it close to him. It was all he had, all he knew. The next day never mattered to him, his place in the world was yesterday; but somehow he had made it to a tomorrow he was trained never to expect. Jagi's challenge was more than a question of honor, it was a charge to all Canderous believed in, all he cherished. Jagi's death did not still the demons haunting him, did not quiet the doubt. Canderous came to realize, or rather he decided, his memory of a bygone time and his role in the events of history was simply that: history. The world had changed, he told me, he had too as well if he wanted to survive. He would not deny his past, but no longer would he rely on it as a shield protecting him from difficult decisions, like moving on despite uncertainty.
Juhani thought she was running. She was just hiding. Hiding from herself. Unable to believe in her own goodness, she slipped into the shadows and used the darkness to conceal her doubt. She thought herself untamed, angry and violent—with so much bad about her, why try to pretend to be good? The fight with me in the grove forced her to realize her failure to herself. She was willing to give herself another chance, and tentatively stepped back to the light. Xor, her former slaver, tested her sorely: her anger was returned, raw, wild and dangerous. I thought she was pushed to the edge of falling; but she simply walked away from his hatred, refusing to strike him down. I realized she was never in danger, her control was complete, even if she did not realize it. She rejected her self-doubt and fiercely defended her newfound dignity. She had never truly succumbed to the darkness back in the grove—she was simply unwilling to embrace the light within her. She felt herself unworthy; now she knew her faults did not define her, her choices did.
Jolee claimed to be hiding in the wilds of Kashyyyk, an exile from life. He was there to forget, to keep from thinking about his wife, the war, his hand in it all. What better place to prove your insignificance than at the roots of a kilometer-tall tree? In the Shadowlands, these events, these people, no longer held meaning. The pain was supposed to go away as he lost himself. But in the solitude, he revisited his past every day. Each detail was engraved into his mind perfectly, the world outside unable to impose itself and replace his memories. Instead of pushing it away, the pain was embraced and accepted: it was the remembering that allowed him peace. No, Jolee wasn't there to hide, to become small and lost. He was there to remember.
Oh yes, remembering—and relishing in—pain, next was HK-47, my love child with the Dark Side. A constant and not-so-gentle reminder of my past, that damn droid seems to delight in causing me anguish. He is as he is programmed, he tells me. I try to guide him to better behavior, but he resists. It is not his desire to change…it is my desire to change him, to what I want. To what I think is best. I ignore his chosen path, force him to act against his will to do my bidding. How very Jedi-like of me.
The most Jedi-like Jedi would be Bastila, naturally. She had an image in her mind of the perfect padawan, and she strove to achieve that expectation. She never questioned the Council, and followed each order to the letter. The Jedi Code was not a guide to assist her, it was law never to be transgressed, and she was a living, breathing symbol of every word. Well, except for that pride problem. She was so proud of her abilities, her "Jedi most likely to succeed" status, that a fall to the dark side was inconceivable to her. So she never planned for it, never contemplated how she would handle the temptation. It is folly to disavow a part of yourself—it becomes your weakness, a target for enemies to breach your defenses. It was easy for Malak to turn her. Not through torture, no, that is not the way of true evil. The dark side seduces you, it does not beat you into submission. It makes you believe it was your own choice. When you give in, you hold to it all the more because you think it is what you want. Malak understood. Bastila still does not. She told me she has made peace with herself, but those words come from her pride, not her heart. She denies her darkness, she finds it shameful to hold such evil within herself. She acknowledges it must be there, but she does not tolerate it. She struggles to banish it from her heart, her mind, her soul, when all she needs to do is accept it.
Carth was patiently waiting, as seemed to be his lot with me since that day on the beach. That day itself was over four years total in the making. When his wife died and his son was lost to him, Carth stopped living too. He sealed himself away from everything and everyone with walls of anger and distrust, guilt and fury. He simply existed, he put his life on hold. Vowing vengeance on Saul kept him breathing, but he knew that wasn't worth living for. Doing the right thing became paramount to Carth, as if to convince himself he had done all he could for his family, that he had not betrayed them. How many times on Taris did he tell me he wanted to save the galaxy? He wanted to save his wife, that is what he meant, that is what he really wanted. Now he wants to save me, protect me, keep me safe. Ah, there was a goal to give his life meaning. That was a simpler task before our little adventure on The Leviathan—Jiara could use a hand, sure, but Revan? He could not see a way to save Revan, either physically, or morally. Instead he focused on Jiara, the woman he could rescue—I can hear the name on his lips, lyrical, soothing, loving. But he cannot hold half of me—especially with his dead wife still in his arms. Why can't he leave Telos once and for all and find me…all of me?
My thoughts were spiraling into turmoil. Thinking of my friends had not brought the calm I had imagined: the lessons they seemed to offer were not what I anticipated, the support I needed seemed not to be there. In desperation, I meditated on the Jedi Code. But even that did not come easily to me. There is peace in chaos. No, that is not right. Harmony comes from passion. Victory is knowledge. No, these are not the teachings; I am confusing the Jedi and Sith. I paused to think deeper, to find the meaning I sought. Serenity will give me power…. Death will break my chains.
Of course. I could not help but smile.
I was not lost: Revan was found.