Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has written reviews. Your comments have been very thoughtful and have helped me to shape the story a little better. This is the first piece of fan fiction I've written and the first story I've written in a long time, so my writing is pretty rusty. I won't be able to post again for the next week or so, but I'm hoping to finish up the story shortly. Thanks again.


Helena spent the better part of the night drifting in and out of the past, until she found herself awake and firmly in the present as the dawn broke. She stared listlessly at the shiny metal face of the chrono for an hour, each minute ticking by with all the speed of a bantha. Her mind went over her mental checklist of aches and pains as she stared at the unmoving numbers. Head? Check. Arms? Check. Feet? Check. Heart? Not so good.

She stirred but said nothing when the medical droid floated in, its golden exterior catching the first rays of sunlight from the window, causing her to blink from the glare. The droid scanned her, beeping and clicking quietly. A mechanical arm extended from its side and gave her two injections: the first was a synthesized kolto extract, highly experimental, and then a sedative. Helena tensed as the treatment literally burned its way through her bloodstream, seeking out her illness, until the sedative began to take its effect.

"Dwooo," the droid said, and made its way through the doorway. Helena watched it go through her half-closed eyes, and thought she saw Bastila standing beside the bed, where the droid once was. It even looked like she was smiling. And holding a pazaak deck.

Must be the drugs, Helena thought before her eyes closed completely.


When the sedative wore off, she was surprised to find her daughter sitting placidly on the floor, meditating. Helena took a few minutes to look at her, taking in every inch of her face. She has Jore's jaw and nose, she thought, but her personality came from me, Force help her.

Bastila's eyes opened and she gave her mother a faint smile. Helena's heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

"You're awake," her daughter said.

"Yes," Helena whispered, afraid to speak, in case this was really a dream.

Bastila stood and sat down in the chair next to the bed. She pulled a small table between them and took out a pazaak deck and began to shuffle.

"Care to play? Republic Senate rules?"

The two women spent the day in companionable silence, playing pazaak and watching holovids. Nothing was said about the argument from the day before.

We're like two strangers, Helena thought once. But it's preferable to fighting like kath hounds, she added. Perhaps it's better this way.

Later, Bastila sat and watched her mother as she slept, ruminating over the day's events. Take it slow, keep it light, she told herself. There is no emotion, there is peace. Her mouth twisted, and then she yawned. I should go soon, she thought, looking at the chrono. But not yet. Her hand sought the talisman in her pocket, twirling it in her fingers. I'll stay a few more minutes . . . .


Bastila woke with a start, her head pounding and her neck stiff. Her left arm, numb and immobile, was resting on the table in front of her, the elbow bent at a right angle to support her head. Her right arm was extended over her head, her hand open and slack.

"Oh no!" Bastila cried, sitting up suddenly. Her useless left arm flopped painfully against the table. She checked the pockets of her robes. Nothing. Flexing the fingers of her left hand, she looked around her wildly. The dragon pearl was gone. She must have dropped it when she fell asleep, she thought. Pain shot through her arm as the nerves suddenly awakened, but she was too distracted to use the Force to heal it.

Groaning, she lowered herself to the floor and began to search every square inch of the green floor tiles. "Where is it?" she asked herself. "Where could it have gone?" She crawled around the bed and ran her hands along the joints where the floor met the wall. Nothing. "Frack," she cursed as tears of frustration welled in her eyes, clouding her vision. She wiped them away with an impatient hand.

"Oh come on," she entreated, her heart thumping in her chest. Fool, she thought. You stupid, irresponsible fool. Crawling back around the bed on her hands and knees, she looked frantically under the chair. Then around the bed again. She sat up, rubbing her hands across her eyes. Think, she told herself. Where could it have fallen? Her heart began to beat double time and her breath caught in her throat. What if someone had come in during the night and stolen it?

"No," she moaned.

"What's the matter?" Helena asked, startled by her daughter's desolate tone.

"I've lost something," Bastila said, resuming her search.

"What did you lose?"

"It's a pearl, a dragon pearl that Revan gave me," she muttered distractedly.

"Revan?" her mother asked, her eyes growing wide. She paled noticeably. "As in Darth Revan?" Helena's eyes narrowed and she regarded her daughter thoughtfully. "Was he –?"

Bastila stopped her search and sat back on her haunches, and even that position, her Jedi robes draped around her in an almost prim fashion. "Yes, mother, Darth Revan. And yes, he was the man with me when I saw you on Tatooine."

"Darth Revan?" Helena echoed uncertainly.

"Yes – I mean, no," Bastila hastily corrected. "He was Darth Revan, but not any more."

Helena looked at her daughter like she'd suddenly sprouted a third eye. Bastila laughed softly and stood at her mother's bedside. How strange this all must sound, she thought. I can't believe it myself, and I was there.

"It's a long story," Bastila said, uncertain about how much she should say. "I was part of a strike team that boarded his flagship –"

"But that's so dangerous!"

Bastila took a deep breath to clear her irritation and patted Helena's hand. "The life of a Jedi is more than just meditating and reading dusty old datapads," she said gently.

She told her mother how she rescued Revan after Malak's attack and about their search for the Star Forge. She glossed over some of their more dangerous missions, but she told the unflinching truth about her fall. Each word that fell from her lips excised another weight from her heart.

"And so he saved me," she said at last. "At the very end, on the Star Forge, he opened our bond – the one I thought I had broken – wide. The full force of his love and light hit me like a shockwave. I was physically thrown back by it." Bastila paused, catching her breath. She had never told anyone, not even the Jedi Masters, about this moment. "Something inside me, the good part of me – the part I thought I had killed when I fell – sprang to life, as if it had been waiting all this time. It was weak, sure, not what it once was, but it was enough to make me realize that if having all the power in the galaxy meant losing Revan – losing myself – then I didn't want it."

She stopped and looked at her mother. She could feel the terror, guilt and – love? – emanating from her aura. What must she think of me? Bastila thought.

"Thank you for telling me," the older woman said gently. Unsure of what to say next, Bastila looked down and began to nervously smooth the sheet. Her fingers grazed something small and hard and her eyes widened as joy surged through her. Nestled gently in the fold of the sheet was the dragon pearl.

"There it is!" she cried, holding the jewel triumphantly. She handed it to her mother.

"Oh, Bastila," Helena breathed, holding the gem up to the light. "It's so beautiful."

"I know," she said, staring down at her hands, which were twisted nervously in her lap. A small smile turned up the corner of her mouth, and she sat for a moment, remembering.


A week after arriving on Coruscant, Bastila found herself wandering the halls of the Jedi Temple aimlessly. She knew she needed to visit her mother, but thoughts of Revan occupied her mind. As soon as the Ebon Hawk landed, the Jedi Masters had whisked the crew off in several directions to be debriefed. Like on Dantooine, she was in the company of Masters Vandar, Zhar and Vrook, but this time, Vrook's disapproving gaze was focused on her, not Revan.

For a while, she threw herself wholeheartedly into the studies and meditation they prescribed for her. She was eager to wipe away the taint of the Dark Side and become the strong, upright Jedi she once was. She tried, Force knows she tried, but the old anger lingered in her and the teachings of the ancient masters rang hollow in her ears. What once made so much sense was now a riddle; what once kept her grounded made her feel anchorless, adrift on the stormy sea of her own emotion and doubt.

Then there were the whispers and the stares. The padawans and the knights all treated her with respect, but their curiosity enveloped her like a fog. She knew what they must say behind closed doors. She was once again held up as an example, but this time for what could go wrong. A part of her old pride bemoaned her status, but she ruthlessly reminded herself that this was all her own making. Bastila began to seriously question if her destiny was to remain with the Jedi, or if it wouldn't be better for all involved if she left the order completely.

But if I am no longer a Jedi, then who would I be? she asked herself. It was then that all the voices in her head fell silent.

Carth had come to say goodbye the night before. He was leaning against the wall outside the mediation room when she saw him, a familiar figure in his bright orange jacket with the ever-present blasters strapped to his lean hips. He bowed to her as she approached, and offered his arm.

With a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she took his arm as they strolled through the compound.

"You have to go," she said quietly. Carth nodded.

"I've been asked to investigate some Sith activity on the Outer Rim," he said.

"It never ends, doesn't?" she asked ruefully. Carth squeezed her hand.

"No, I don't think it does."

Bastila stopped suddenly and turned to him. She looked as if she were truly seeing him for the first time. He's so lonely, she thought. He wraps his guilt and pain around him like a blanket. "Promise me something," she said, not quite sure what she was going to ask.

Carth's brows came together as he regarded her. "Okay," he said warily.

"Promise me that you'll find Dustil," she blurted. "He needs you – he needs to understand why you sent him away."

His eyes widened. "But I didn't send him away."

Bastila blushed. "That's right, I'm sorry, you're right." She laughed nervously. "How silly of me."

The silence stretched between them and Bastila squirmed under Carth's searching gaze. She bit her lip and took his arm again. The two continued their walk until they reached the gardens.

"What I meant to say," she said hastily. "Is that you deserve to be happy."

"Of course," Carth said, looking down at her. "And so do you."

"I am," she lied. "I'm back where I belong."

Carth snorted but let the comment pass. When they reached the temple gate, he turned to her and took her hand. "Until we meet again," he said. "May the Force be with you."

"Take care, my friend," she whispered. Carth kissed her lightly on the cheek and bowed.

"Give your mother my regards," he replied.

As for the others, she had seen Juhani and Jolee several times during her training and meditation, and had glimpsed Mission, Zaalbar and Canderous in the hallways of the Temple, although she hadn't much time to say hello, or at least that's what she told herself. In truth, despite the shared dangers on the way to the Star Forge, she was never part of the camaraderie that had developed between the ragtag members of the Ebon Hawk's crew. She had always stood aloof, using her over-inflated sense of right and wrong as a barrier, even with her fellow Jedi.

Except of course, for Revan. He had pushed his way past her defenses with his teasing, his power, the raw force of his personality. But that wasn't all – it was the way he looked at her, as if she were the only person in the galaxy. Even in the heat of battle, sometimes he would glance at her and for the briefest of moments, his eyes would soften and a ghost of a grin, lopsided and tender, would play on his lips. Just for a split second, a moment lost in time. Even as he looked at her, he never lost his rhythm; his attention never seemed to waver from the enemy at hand. It was just a secret shared between the two of them, even in the midst of chaos.

What amazed her the most was that he still looked at her like that on the Star Forge, even as she tried to turn him to the Dark Side. He refused to fall, but he still looked at her with love in his eyes. To her dying day, she would never understand it.

She paused. The last time she saw Revan was as they disembarked, and she missed him. Her longing was a thread that ran beneath her consciousness, the pain unbearable, yet sweet. Her mind returned to it over again like a child wiggling a loose tooth. Bastila wondered if the masters knew how much she loved him – needed him – and if this was their way of punishing her.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely had time to let out a surprised gasp when an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into a nearby room. For a panicked moment, she thought of Malak, but her fears dissipated at the warm voice in her ear.

"Alone at last," Revan whispered.

Her relief was short lived; an all-consuming rage exploded like a starburst before her eyes and she elbowed him in the solar plexus. She turned as he let out a strangled cough. "Don't ever do that again," she hissed. "I'll kill you next time!"

"Bastila?" Revan stared at her while he fought to breathe. She could feel his mind searching hers.

"I'm sorry." She forced herself to relax, but the anger still simmered below the surface. "You scared me half to death."

Regaining his breath, Revan gave her a roguish smile. "Thought I was some Mandalorian marauder threatening your virtue?" His grin widened and a wicked light came into his eyes. "Although that doesn't sound half bad," he said as he bent down to kiss her.

She couldn't stay mad at him. Hadn't she wished for this very opportunity every hour for the last three days? She yielded to his mouth and met him with a hunger that matched his own.

With a groan, Revan broke the kiss and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Had we world enough and time," he said, quoting a line from an ancient poem. "But, unfortunately, kissing you wasn't the only reason I sought you out."

Bastila tried unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment, which prompted a soft laugh from Revan. "Believe me, I feel the same way," he said. "But Canderous and I have to go Dantooine for a few days."

"Oh? That's nice," she said, making a grand gesture of straightening her disheveled robes, hoping the sudden ache in her heart wouldn't show on her face. Tears gathered in her eyes like a coming storm.

"Hey, look at me," Revan said gently. He tilted her face to his, but she kept her eyes averted. "Bastila?" She shook her head, stubbornly refusing to look at him.

Revan sighed and pulled her close. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the warm masculine scent of him, and tried to keep a hold of herself. "I know it's hard," he said, stroking her hair. "You've gone through a lot and the masters really aren't helping things."

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Oh really?" he smirked. "The Bastila I know would have laid me out before I got within a foot of her. Or is this like the time you 'misplaced' your lightsaber on Taris?"

"How many times do I have to explain that – ooh! You're impossible!" She pulled away from him, her chin lifted.

"There's my girl," he said. He reached out and took her hand in both of his, his smile tender. "I have something for you."

Her heart skipped a beat. "You do?"

"Here," he said, placing a small drawstring bag in her hand. With trembling fingers, she opened the soft pouch, and a small orb rolled out of it and nestled in her palm.

It was a krayt dragon pearl.

Bastila stared at the jewel for several long moments, enraptured with its luminescent beauty. Perfectly round, the gem was a stark white, like the sands of Rakata Prime. What at first glance looked like a flaw was actually a thin ribbon of gray that ran through the center of the pearl, giving the color added depth and beauty.

This wasn't a gift to be given lightly. It was a gift of abounding love that came from one of the most generous people she had ever met.

She didn't deserve it.

"Oh, Revan, no," she stuttered, holding her hand out to him. "I can't take this – it's too much. You should use it in your lightsaber."

"Please, I insist," he said firmly, closing her fingers around the jewel. "I'm no expert, but I was able to shine and shape it enough to make it worth a fair amount of credits. It should be enough to help your mother."

"No," she said, her pride rearing. "I can't accept this." She shook her head and handed the pearl back to him. She depended on him for so much all ready – she couldn't bear to take credits, as well.

"Take it," he said. "It's what your father would have wanted."

It was the wrong thing to say. There he goes, ordering you around again like you're just a child, the hated voice inside her head whispered mockingly. Bastila clenched her fists. "You know nothing about my father," she said, her eyes boring holes in him. Adrenaline surged through her veins, making her muscles twitch. She wanted to take her fist and hit him right in the jaw, to see his hazel eyes widen in pain and shock. She wanted to kick and pummel and scream at him until he was as bruised and useless as she felt. It was all so wrong, but Force help her, she wanted to lay waste to everything around her, including herself.

At the edges of the turmoil in her mind, she felt Revan gently probing her thoughts through their Force bond. Instinctively, Bastila slammed a wall up in her mind, shutting him out. His arms tightened on her shoulders, and he looked as if he wanted to shake her.

"I don't know if you want me to kiss you or punish you," he said softly.

Both, she thought. She sighed. Anger and shame were her constant companions these days, and the meditation and lectures prescribed by the Jedi masters had done nothing to tame either. I've already lost so much of myself and who I thought I was, she thought miserably. And I stand to lose so much more if I'm not careful. I can't continue to depend on him to be my moral compass. I have to learn to stand on my own.

"Let me in," he beseeched. "Let me help you. I'll always take care of you."

Yeah right.

"Shut up!" she whispered fiercely. The voice in her head stilled.

Surprised, Revan took a step back. "I'm sorry?"

"I, uh, no, it's nothing," she said, looking away from him. "I didn't say anything."

Revan opened his mouth as if to argue, and then thought better of it. He kissed her again gently. "This is not how I wanted this to go," he said quietly. "I don't want us to spend these last few moments arguing."

Bastila looked up at him. "When do you leave?"

He looked at his chrono and grimaced. "In thirty standard minutes."

Guilt pricked her. "You're right, Revan. I'm so sorry I've been such a twit. Please forgive me."

"Always."

The landing pad was desolate as Revan looked in her eyes one last time before he boarded the Ebon Hawk. Master Vandar and Canderous were already inside the ship, preparing for launch.

"I love you," he said fiercely.

"I love you," Bastila said. The words felt metallic in her mouth, like blood. A sense of foreboding threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed it back resolutely.

His arms were suddenly around her and he kissed her, uncaring of who might see. "It will get better, I promise," he whispered in her ear as she felt his hand slip into her pocket. With one final look that was almost a caress, he turned and boarded the ship. Like a coward, Bastila turned and ran into the temple, not stopping until she reached the safety of her room. Acrid bile filled her throat, making it raw, but she did not cry.

After several hours, she roused herself and began to undress. As she folded her robe, something small clattered to the floor and rolled underneath the desk. Bastila stopped, a hand at her throat, as she stared at the object gleaming in the shadows.

It was the dragon pearl.


"And he gave this to you?" Helena's question interrupted her thoughts.

"Hm? Oh, yes, he did," she murmured, her mind still far away.

The older woman regarded her daughter a while before she reached over and placed the jewel in Bastila's hand. She could barely repress the joy that surged through her when Bastila's cool, smooth hand did not pull away as she had expected it to. Forcing herself to hold it for just a moment longer – but not too long – Helena removed her hand from her daughter's and leaned back on the pillows. For the first time in many years, she smiled.

"Then that's all I need to know."