No, don't leave, don't leave me. The words were distant, faint. I am sorry, please… The voice seemed familiar, but I was having trouble concentrating. Hold on, please, come back… I love you, why won't you… I awoke slowly. I felt like hell. I opened my eyes, and forced myself to focus: Malak. I was cradled in his arms, he was gently rocking me. We were on the ground, in a filthy, sticky patch of blood-soaked dust. I could smell the death all around us…and on us. "Rev, I'm sorry…" His closed eyes were swollen and red, tears had formed muddy streaks down his face. "No, no, no," he murmured over and over in rhythm with his tortured swaying. I tried to move, then groaned at the effort. His eyes flew open, relief washed over him. "Thank all the powers of the Force," he burst and clutched me closer to his chest. "I thought you were dead, when I saw you lying there…" his words were halted. "I've never seen you down, Rev, never. You've never lost a fight, even to me. But you were just laying here, still, blood everywhere…I couldn't even sense you in the Force. I used every last medpac and all my power to heal you, but you didn't wake up, you didn't respond, you just weren't there. You were…gone." His voice was laced with astonished fear and confusion.
"Doesn't matter, I'm here now, and I know I'm not dead…I hurt too much." I tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled groan.
"Your connection to the Force must have been dulled by the poison…I can feel it leaving your system now, it is almost gone; I can sense you again…the Force grows as the poison fades away," Malak rambled with relief and realization. I felt my strength returning as he spoke the words. "That toxin they produce must be how the Terentateks achieved their Force immunity, and how they triumphed over so many Jedi. Damn those things!" he spat with raw hostility.
"Did we get 'em?" I said wearily. He let out a laugh and quickly looked up at the carcasses.
"Yeah, we did. But I thought I lost you," he said sadly, returning his remorseful gaze to me. "I am so sorry, I should have listened to you." He buried his face into my hair. I felt his breath, his sobs against my skin. I moved my arm around his waist, to let him know I did not blame him. This was our choice together, in the end. We always did everything together. "I should have been more careful with you, planned…"
"Its okay," I started.
"No, it isn't, I thought you were gone, before I got the chance…" he paused. "Damn it, to hell with it all. This is the real lesson of this trial… that the end can come at any time, quickly. I won't wait, any more; I won't deny it. I care for you…I…I love you, Revan." I knew this already, it was an unspoken understanding between us; something we shared, but were forbidden to show, to act upon, to realize. Yet I was thrilled to hear the words. Warmth spread through my entire body. I felt his thoughts begin to enter my mind, leaving me giddy. I cherished the moment, savored it, then remembered our training. I pushed him away, both with my hands and my mind as I closed off our connection through the Force. He seemed a bit pained at my rebuff, but he was no less determined to argue his case on the matter. "I know you feel the same towards me," he murmured near my ear as he pressed his cheek into my hair. His emotion swirled around me, though I refused to allow him to enter my thoughts. Still, my heart jolted at his voice and his closeness. He continued to nuzzle me, finally resting his chin on the top of my head as his arms tightened the embrace and pressed me into him. I could sense myself crumbling…feebly, I tried to pull away.
"Malak, we can't," I said softly, even though I wanted to admit he was right. His hand slipped under my chin, tilting my face towards his. I looked into his eyes, large and soft, full of yearning and tenderness. Gently, he kissed me on the forehead. I could not keep the small gasp of delighted contentment from escaping.
"How can this be wrong?" he whispered, his breath throaty and ragged.
"We aren't supposed to do this," I protested, but not very convincingly.
"We aren't supposed to lie either," he said softly, his lips tracing down across my cheek. "And I love you, I cannot say otherwise. It is so easy to say, I don't know what I was afraid of, what I was waiting for. Why did it take this…." Our lips met, brushing softly at first. It felt like a spark, a small shock coursing through my body. His hand cupped around my head, holding me firmly as he leaned harder into the kiss. I responded in kind, my hand moving up to caress his neck as my lips parted in invitation. This time I not only allowed him into my mind, but I sent my own thoughts towards him in return. Our minds opened to each other without reservation, touching each other fully and deeply within the Force as our physical selves clutched and clung together. We lingered in the embrace, then I rested against his chest. I could hear his heart pounding wildly. Reluctantly our Force joining separated; the wordless intensity of his emotion receded, leaving me lightheaded and with an unsettling sense of hollowness. I considered Malak's words—quite possibly he had discovered a loophole, I thought with a slight smile. I weighed the evils: which was worse, lying or loving? I knew without a doubt lying was wrong. But this seemed so right; no, it felt right. My entire body ached—not with the pain from the fight, but with longing—something I did not realize I had been denying. Maybe he was right, this was our lesson, and I found myself eager to learn. Silently I snaked both arms around his neck, interlacing my fingers. I held on tightly as he stood, easily lifting me with him. I kept my face buried in his tunic as he began to walk back to the village. He stopped. I knew what he was thinking, and I didn't need the Force to understand—it was a long way to the estate. He glanced back at the darkness in the rock wall, then he looked at me. Quietly, I gave him the slightest of nods before pressing again into his chest. He turned and with sure, steady steps, he carried me into the cave.
Saying it was dark and dank in this hole was an understatement. Canderous slammed back the shot of whiskey, gritting his teeth as it ate away at his throat. He signaled for another as he slid the empty glass and a handful of credits at the bartender. He turned to scan the cantina's patrons: the galaxy's finest, he joked to himself. This was his sort of crowd…or at least it used to be. The Duros bartender stepped up to him and placed the bottle and a new glass in front of him. Silently the Duros nodded towards an open booth towards the back of the room. Canderous glared at him for a moment, then slid off the barstool, grabbing the whiskey and glass in one hand as he turned to leave. He shouldered his repeater and elbowed HK sharply as he walked past. "Come on, scrap heap," he grumbled. HK pulled himself out of stand-by and followed quietly.
Canderous eased into the booth and slid around so he could face the room. The wall behind him was pitted and scorched with blaster fire just at the same level as his head. That probably explained the slightly sticky feel of the seat cushion. The table was not only missing a chunk from the far edge, but it had well-worn grooves across the top—Canderous's elbows fit perfectly into them as he poured himself another drink. He looked around with contempt and disgust: for the conditions of his surroundings as well as for himself for noticing. This place was no different than any other dive he had frequented across the galaxy; but this time he found himself ill at ease surrounded by the filth and vermin. He would not have cared just a few months ago. But now, he found he had lost his taste for such an atmosphere. He had grown accustomed to clean sheets on soft beds, good food on unbroken dishes, and better company on his side…not to mention whiskey that didn't dissolve his flesh on the way down, leaving him numb, he thought as he drained another shot. He had lost his edge; over forty years of battle-hardened attitude nearly wiped away after less than a year with those fools. Worse yet, he realized he missed it; there was something to 'not looking over your shoulder every other second,' as Bastila put it. Knowing each night that you would wake up the next morning had a certain appeal: but then so did living the moment, never regretting things done or left undone. He had to regain that perspective: he would not survive among the Sith otherwise.
He surveyed the room; a fight just ended in one corner; Twi'lek females were doing their best up on the stage to the strained sounds of a holo-vid band; couples kept disappearing into the back rooms; and a small crowd was gathering some three tables away. Canderous took closer note: it was a Pazaak game attracting the attention, the unlikely opponents a Rodian and a droid. The droid's owner was working the crowd, offering odds and accepting bets on his mechanical cardsharp's ability. The Rodian was cheating—Canderous could see that plainly. The droid must have been as well, but it was not as obvious. As the match wore on, the throng became larger and louder…and less in control. The Rodian was about to lose, when somehow the droid's side deck was knocked to the floor. When the droid returned from picking it up, he saw a grenade sitting on the table in front of him. Screams rippled through the audience as they tried to push away. Canderous recognized it as an ion charge: harmless to organics, but deadly to droids.
"HK! Shields!" he barked at the slumped-over machine. HK came to full alert and pressed his shielding device mere moments before the blast detonated; a shockwave raced across the room, knocking him over. HK quickly recovered and stood up. "Report," Canderous said hotly.
"Statement: I have sustained no further damage. My shields were in place. I must thank you, Mandalorian, but do not expect the favor returned."
"Wasn't counting on it," Canderous answered. "You find out yet what your problem is?"
"Negative. My self-diagnostic program appears to be malfunctioning. After 127 attempts to run the sequence, I am receiving no errors. Yet status reports indicate I am down 42 in power, four of my auxiliary functions are not responding, and those programs that remain online are operating at 81 or less optimal capacity. Theory: I have been repaired with inferior parts by an inferior mechanic and I require an expert, such as my master, to return me to my full abilities."
"Those parts were just fine before," Canderous growled. "And you repaired yourself, so you can't blame me for your problems."
"Contradiction: It was you who brought me back online, so I am left to summarize that you have somehow managed to cross my wiring in such a manner as only the truly inept could have achieved."
"Hey, I fixed my basilisk war-droid perfectly every time!" Canderous yelled back.
"Supplication: I'm sure you did, but that piece of machinery was little more than a glorified swoop bike with none of the delicate and sophisticated systems I possess. I fear without Master's adroit skill and experienced touch, I may be permanently damaged by your oafish attempt to repair me. Statement: I shall inform Master of this gross incompetence. Speculation: This may have, in fact, been an act of sabotage, for which I hope you suffer greatly."
"Ya know what? I could have left you on the junk pile."
"Statement: Perhaps you should have. Supposition: I would have probably been better off."
"That makes two of us!" Canderous growled as he finished the bottle and slammed the shot glass on the table. "Tell ya what, since you are here anyway, try to do something useful. Your scanners working? See if you detect anyone familiar in the crowd; we've been waiting here too damn long."
"Acknowledgement: My scanners are currently at 24. I am unable to scan at long range for anything. Short-range parameters allow for organic pattern recognition, but I am unable to identify which organic should I find a match without visual confirmation. Query: will this do?"
"Yes, so do it already. I am bored with this place."
HK stood at attention and slowly swung his head back and forth. "I have detected at least one organic that matches a pattern known to my database. I am unable to identify the female."
"Female? Where?" Canderous asked looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Revan. He had been asking questions and dropping hints in dozens of cantinas all night. Finally he got a bite, and they were told to wait here for contact. That seemed like days ago.
"Statement: the female is moving from the bar across the room." Canderous searched furiously through the sea of faces.
"I don't see her," he complained.
"Confusion: Really? The organic is moving towards this location. Right there." Canderous traced the path of HK's stare. The person he saw approaching was not whom he had anticipated.