The merge

- Jen Sahara -


"Jen," Zhar hissed, his voice low and intense. "Do not let yourself be distracted by what they may say. We will talk after."

"Jen?" the bald human mocked. His posture was cocky and confident, and his scalp was etched in mottled tattoos. A dark, familiar voice sneered inside my head. He always did like to fashion himself as a mini-Malak, no matter how loudly he denied it.

I flinched. As far as I knew, Darth Malak could have been a dancing Aqualish – but of course Darth Evil Bitch knew better.

The stranger let out a cruel laugh. "Don't tell me you still believe those Jedi lies?"

I raised Karon's 'saber high; it pierced through my vision as I stared fixedly on our aggressor. I might be able to catch this pissant off-guard, if I'm quick enough.

"I know exactly who's in my head," I said. Zhar gave out a strangled sort of noise, like a kinrath had died in his throat. My gaze darted to the second individual, still submerged in the shadows next to his jumpspeeder. He was hanging back - seemingly content, for now, to let the confrontation unfold between us and his comrade.

"Oh, a pity," Baldy murmured. "For a second there, you had me believing I would get the pleasure of enlightening you, Revan."

I didn't flinch this time. My gaze narrowed on him. "By all means, call me that if you think it makes you clever, mini-Malak."

His eyes widened the briefest amount, before his expression began to contort in a callow anger I had somehow predicted. I was already drawing on the Force, allowing it to surge through my body and launch me into the air, my lightsaber raised and aimed directly for his torso. He wouldn't block in time; I saw the beginnings of shock slacken his face, and my mouth opened in a fierce rictus as I sensed victory a hairs-breadth away-

-I was slammed sideways in mid-air; self-preservation had me thumbing the off-switch on the 'sabers and readying my body for a roll as I fell. The air burst from my lungs on impact. As I twisted to the side, I heard the shearing sound of a lightsaber hissing just past me.

I scrambled to my feet, in time to see the thrown 'saber returning to the grasp of the second Dark Jedi. He remained in the shadows, a hood enshrouding his head, and all I could tell was that he was a humanoid of some description.

He'd interfered. He'd been quicker to glean my intention than Baldy.

He might be the more dangerous one, I realized, as Zhar came to my side and my gaze returned to the tattooed human. The anger on his face had transformed from hot into arctic.

"You haven't changed," Baldy hissed. "Still using any underhanded trick to get your way, Revan."

Jen?

I switched on my 'sabers again, muscles tensed for the next attack, my mind clear and concentrated on both Dark Jedi, now.

Apart from a small tendril of unease, coiling deep in my gut.

Baldy knew Darth Revan, obviously. That's why I knew how to trick him. But that taunt had felt a frell of a lot more like Street Kid than Evil Bitch.

"Jen," Zhar muttered. I could sense him by my side, strong and resolute and steady. "Stay with me. Do not lose your focus, no matter what."

Jen? Are you getting out of there? The voice was frantic. At some stage, my shield to her had withered away.

Not now, Bastila!

She recoiled in horrified comprehension. I couldn't spare the mental concentration to block her presence, not now, not in the middle of this – so I could only hope she would remain withdrawn from me. If something – if Malak - happened to her, I would shield myself then. Although it might catch me off-guard, should it occur.

It was, as always, a roll of the dice.

Baldy had turned his sneer on Zhar, now. "Let me see, a worn-out Twi'lek in faded robes with a sad kath-pup expression. I was hoping for Vandar, just to piss Yudan off, but this-" he snickered. "This is better. Tell me, Zhar Lestin, do you still cry at night for my Master?"

There was a dark sort of glee in his voice; he put me in mind of a sadistic kid about to squash a bug just to see if its insides were blue or red.

"I mourn for all who are lost, Bandon Stone," Zhar said simply.

Bandon Stone. And Bandon referred to Yudan - that must be his shadowed companion. Two names Zhar had mentioned, two of Malak's top Dark Jedi, their combined strength enough to scare a Jedi Master into running. Bandon, I'd already picked, was hot-headed and easily distracted. Not stupid, though, Revan muttered in a crepuscular corner of my head. Just simple. That much power without foresight is a sodding waste.

Shut. Up!

I sensed Bastila quail from me; she'd been listening in, despite herself. Bastila, I hissed, tense and urgent. Bandon Stone and Yudan Rosh. Tell me something – a weakness, a strength – anything to help me out here!

No, she whimpered. Run, get out, you must escape-

For frell's sake, Bastila, between you and sodding Darth Revan I could do with a little help here!

"As amusing as this stand-off is, I have a ship to catch," Bandon jeered. I could feel the Force swirling around him, a crescendo of power slowly augmenting his strength. Zhar, in contrast, was a steady beacon of light. "There's room on it for you, Revan, if you behave. But Zhar- well. I'm afraid I'm quite taken with the idea of telling Lord Malak that I was the one to kill you."

Bandon- he's very powerful, Bastila whispered. But Yudan knows you, he knows how you fight, he's one of the best duellists alive-

"Jen." Zhar's voice was tight. Somehow, he must have sensed my attention was elsewhere.

"Oh, don't mind me," I said flippantly. "Just having a little telepathic chat with Bastila." That was enough to draw everyone's attention. Even the mysterious Yudan jerked his head in my direction. I felt a tight smile form on my face, and my next words were crisp and pointed. "She's escaped and just shoved a 'saber through Malak's black heart."

The disbelieving shock and resulting pause on Bandon's face had me striking out once more, with a powerful unleashing of pure Force that knocked the both of them flat to the ground. This time, I launched myself at the cloaked Yudan, a gamble in that he was further away, trusting in my own celerity to get there first with an outreached weapon-

Yudan's 'saber slammed against mine, a parry from the ground, forceful enough that I stumbled back a pace, and he flew to his feet. His single 'saber morphed into a double-blade, the point swinging toward me-

-I blocked and thrust out in a riposte that he batted aside with ease. His reprisal was swift, a flurry of blows that immediately had me on the defensive.

My mind cleared; no thought, no emotion, just a lucid focus on my opponent as I understood my life hung in the balance. I ducked under a swing, striking out with a vicious return that met empty air as he somersaulted over me, the Force swelling under his grasp.

I spun around, too slow, my off-hand lifting in an unsteady parry that Yudan knocked aside. His follow-up was fierce, fast and seared into my hand.

A blazing burn scorched deep into my fingers. There was a thud as my off-weapon dropped. The Force rallied around me in instinct, and I flung myself backward, away, landing metres behind in a controlled crouch.

Agony flared as I flexed my hand, and with a dull sense of horror I realized my grasp wasn't responding correctly. A quick glance down confirmed my suspicions – the bastard had sheared my two smallest fingers completely off.

Oh, kath crap. Kath crap in a frelling sandstorm!

Zhar's solid presence stepped to my side, and I sank myself deeper in the Force. Ignore the pain, focus on the present! The pain ebbed as a deluge of power engulfed me, and my attention snapped back to Yudan.

He had paused, facing us both, while Bandon moved to his side. Bandon's face was twisted in a livid scowl directed solely at me. "You think I would believe that? I would have felt my Master's death, you imbecile!"

"You believed it, for a second," I panted. "You always were a bit of a gullible tool, mini-Malak."

Bandon lifted his sole 'saber in a threatening motion. "And you were always an overconfident scow. Even now, no more than a puppet of the Jedi Order you once scorned, and you still aren't smart enough to realize you're beaten."

"I am no one's puppet," I hissed, my temper spiking. That smarted. Maybe it had been all the months simultaneously doubting Bastila's motives, and fearing that the voices in my head would conquer me - but I wasn't going to take that quietly. "Not yours, not the Order's, and certainly not to the schutta in my head!"

There was a tenebrous silence, then, that seemed to fall on us all. Bandon's expression contorted in confusion, as if simple thought was currently beyond him. Yudan took a step forward, pushing back his hood to reveal a face etched in the blue-black lines of my Force Sight.

It was like a lined engraving of a long lost loved one, forgotten eons ago.

Nausea reared, and the Force shook uncontrollably in my grasp. The Sight dropped, and I was left with the illumination of lightsabers radiating in the darkness, the blood-red reflecting from Yudan's face as I stared at him, transfixed.

He was a Twi'lek, my age or somewhat older, with deep pits of Force corruption visible along his cheeks and forehead. My heart pounded resoundingly in my ears, and I felt sweat break out on the back of my neck. A sick, familiar feeling of vertigo swamped me. Not now! Frantically, I gathered in the fragmenting tendrils of my mind, and forcibly turned to face Bandon instead. I could not afford to let my mind wander off, not now.

No matter what Darth Revan and Yudan Rosh were to each other, I would not let it affect me.

Jen, you must hold it together, Bastila whispered, as if sensing my unease.

I raised my arm, and the shorter 'saber came flying out of the shadows back to me. A hot pain reverberated through my hand, and I fumbled the weapon. I can't use that hand, I realized with dull horror.

Zhar murmured something, and I was engulfed in the soothing, healing embrace of the Force. The pain faded to a throbbing I could ignore, even if my hand was currently useless.

"The schutta in your head?" Yudan asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Is that why Lestin calls you by that fake name? Because you don't understand that you are Revan?"

"Jen, not now!" Something akin to a growl escaped Zhar, and the Force heaved out from him in a powerful wave of concussion that should have been unstoppable, and yet Bandon's hands were raised-

-Bandon- he's very powerful-

The Force recoiled, returned to hit us. An instinctive twist of the power at my fingertips, and most of it deflected harmlessly above. Most of it.

Zhar stumbled to the ground under the remnants of the backlash.

And Yudan was still staring at me.

"I am not her," I snarled. "Just because some robe implanted her in my mind-"

My tirade was halted by Yudan's strangled laugh. The look of utter disbelief on his face completely captured my attention. "I've known you most of your life, Revan. I've fought beside you, bled for you, followed you into the deepest perdition. I will not let you wallow in some Jedi-induced daydream that allows you to ignore the blood on your hands!"

Most of your life. Yudan had known Darth Revan well. He must have been one of the Jedi to follow her into the Wars. He was probably one of the original Jedi Thirteen.

There was a sick feeling in my stomach.

But just because she was resident in my head, did not make me culpable of her atrocities.

"Say what you will," I said at last. "But I'm not Revan. I'm just a street kid from Talshion."

The corners of his mouth turned down.

"You mind-screwed failure," Yudan whispered, but his voice carried through the thick silence that swamped us all. "Revan was a street kid from Talshion. Revan and Malak both."

The words took a second to register.

But self-preservation already had me scrabbling for possible reasons, plausible denials- "Is that where I met her?" I mumbled, blinking. There was a queasy churning in my gut; my thoughts felt sluggish, almost paralyzed. Street Kid's boyfriend was from Talshion, too. Had we both met her and Malak there, then?

There were no coincidences. The Masters always loved to spout that saying. Seemed a pretty big one to have two powerful Force users from the same place, let alone four-

"Jen-" Zhar murmured. He was back on his feet. "After. Focus, please!"

The desperation in his voice was obvious, and downright incriminating.

No. No, there must be some explanation-

Jen?

A memory, from not long ago, flashed to the forefront of my consciousness. Bastila's face, drawn and shocked, her voice spluttering in disbelief: "You- you think you have three personalities?"

Bastila, I pleaded. Bastila, I can't trust anyone- tell me, who am I, who is the real me?

I can hear him coming, Malak's coming back, I can't shield myself from you-

Tell me, once and for all, what is my real name?

She was panicking, flailing, a mirror of my own state. Block yourself from me Jen, I'm drugged, I can barely grasp the Force as it is-

BASTILA!

There was a surrender, then, her will succumbing to mine, the crumbling of a wall long since held up against an onslaught from all different directions. I could feel the sharp tang of despair, of hopelessness, and didn't know if it came from me or her.

Revan, she whispered. Revan Freeflight. Not… not Darth Revan. Not anymore.

Pressure built on all sides, and a sharp crackling pricked along my skin, bright flashes of white light sparking all over me, as my control dropped and the power of the universe seemed to shake all around me.

A vortex of nausea struck hard. There was a hot tearing inside my mind, like the very fabric of it was ripping apart. I heard a scream, and then I fell.

The freighter lurched into space, away from Talshion, away from our origins and toward a brighter life. I nestled into Mal's side as his hand sought mine.

I'd always dreamed of leaving Talshion, to fly amongst the stars.

"I didn't think the Jedi existed," I said. They were a fairy-tale, a fable to whisper at night when your belly was empty and your mind despairing.

Except it turned out they were real, after all. And we – the both of us – somehow had the potential to join them. I'd already pinched myself a hundred times to check I wasn't dreaming.

"I'm not sure they are what we thought," Mal muttered, his grip so hard it hurt. I clung onto the pain. "They didn't give us a choice, Revvie. I don't give a mynock's tail how nice they are, they still wouldn't have let us stay behind."

"Stay behind," I scoffed disbelievingly. As if we would want that!

"It's about personal freedom," he whispered, his eyes falling shut. He was frowning, suspicious, as he rested against the durasteel bulkhead of the starship. He'd never been quite the same since that time he'd been taken by the Enforcers. I still didn't know how he'd returned. "We've never had any our entire lives. If they really are these mystical do-gooders, bent on making the galaxy a better place, then surely they should have allowed us that. But we were hustled away without so much a chance to say goodbye."

He may have a point, I realized, for I would have liked to farewell our friends. Jonohl, Deric, Staria – they'd assume our absence on the streets meant that we were caught. Ness would be the most grieved. And yet, if we'd been allowed a goodbye, how would we be able to explain our departure from Altizir, scummiest city on scummy Talshion? It was a life-long trap for all of us homeless nobodies.

I'd miss them, miss them all – but we couldn't bring them with us. We'll come back for them. When we're proper Jedi, we'll come back and save them. I had Mal, and in the end, that was the most important thing of all.

My gaze darted around the unfamiliar vessel, trying desperately to contain my awe, my excitement, my eagerness to draw everything in and learn the world. Mal's caution couldn't deflate my mood. I saw the opportunity for everything, and no one was going to stop me from grasping it.

"And stars, Revvie, what in the Outer Rim did you introduce us like that for?" his voice snapped, and I glanced sideways to see his mouth twisted with heartache. I'd known it would upset him, but hoped he'd see it for the tribute it was.

"They all have two names, Mal. That horned one with the weird blue eyes – she's got at least four."

"But- Devari-"

He swallowed painfully. His brother had disappeared, same time as him, both captured by the Enforcers. No one ever returned from that.

Except that Mal had, somehow.

"We're not going to forget where we came from, Mal. Our lives might change radically... but we'll remember the past. I won't let their deaths be final."

Mal had half-formed memories of a drug-addled mother who died when he'd barely began walking. So it was Devari who'd raised Mal, kept him alive and fed in Altizir's slums where so many others perished. Sometimes, I believed something had broken inside of Mal once he'd finally accepted that Devari was truly gone.

As for me, I didn't even have those memories. Only the fleeting image of warm arms tight around me; the sound of a whisper murmuring sweet nothings in a sad, sad voice.

I knew my mother had landed on Talshion pregnant with me. She died a handful of years later, in a gutter; just another nameless sent with a squalling toddler plucking uselessly at her rags.

It was old man Freeflight who'd found me; named me after a comet in the Unknown Regions, he'd said, for I didn't recall any name prior to him. He dared me to dream of the stars when some days we all went without food. When some days we barely escaped death let alone the dismal streets of Altizir that had us all trapped.

Freeflight wasn't that old, really. But he was blind and broken and could barely move. A husk of a man that once must have lived a life outside of Talshion. He refused to speak of his past except in general terms, but I had always been convinced he was not a Talshion native.

Freeflight had shaped my childhood: raised me, educated me, ensured I had a shot at survival. All his stories - only I'd ever listened to them. They varied greatly; from governmental politics, to meditating techniques, to the intricacies of the Exar Kun conflict-

All of them sounded wildly unbelievable, but I had listened, and dared to dream.

"Malak Devari. Revan Freeflight," I whispered proudly. "They're good names, Mal. Better than Malak and Revan. Let's take what advantage we can, and remember those we came from."

I'd always dreamed of leaving Talshion, to fly amongst the stars.

Something was clutching at my hair. A buzzing on my wrist. A disconnect in my head.

Street Kid is Evil Bitch, and Evil Bitch is-

There was power, unrestrained, building inside in a staggering inferno.

-Revan.

The power exploded in a shattering sphere, a loud whoosh as it escaped in a wave of solid concussion.

Street Kid is Evil Bitch is Revan.

Darkness. My eyes were open, to see only black.

The sheen of a red 'saber perforated the gloom, throwing up shadows against giant wroshyrs that revealed inches of fresh bark stripped clean from the outer husk. The lightsaber illuminated the face of a bald human as he staggered to his feet, some distance away.

He stared briefly at the gouged sides of the nearest wroshyr, something like incredulity on his face.

It can't be true.

The shine of green lit up next to me. I heard someone murmur; something calm, something soothing, and it didn't even begin to register through the terror and denial.

That power… are you there? Are you okay? Please, he's at the door-

The panicked voice cut through the numb turmoil; my attention turned to her like a lifeline, and I reached out inwardly – a frantic, desperate lunge for safety or answers or refutation or anything bar the truth-

My consciousness went flying.

Through space, through time, through nothing and everything, immersed in a psychedelic backdrop of colours I didn't see so much as sense, all the while following the source of the frantic voice speaking to me.

I reached the end of our connection, and opened my eyes.

I was in a small room with durasteel walls, and grilled venting as commonplace to a starship as leaves were to a forest.

I was seated, hands bound, and a towering man in a black robe stood over me. He raised a hand to gently touch my cheek, and I felt someone – myself – no, someone else – flinch.

There was a chrome plate where his jaw once was. Why did that burn me with horrifying shame?

His eyes should have been whiskey-coloured, but they were a poisoned yellow.

His voice - so wrong - came out in a metallic enunciation. "Bastila, I've got such a surprise for you."

"Mal?" I squeaked.

No! Bastila screamed, and I found myself hurled away with an almighty, frenzied wave of the Force.

"I've got such a surprise for you," Mal's voice, warm and amused, murmured in my ear as the taxi shuttle came to a stop. We'd snuck away from the Jedi Temple, deep into Coruscant's Galactic City. It wasn't the first time, but still – we tried to be circumspect about it. Even as no more than a lowly Padawan, I was aware of the disapproval many Masters directed at our attachment.

But – we'd been together before Karon and the others found us. No one was going to dictate our relationship away.

The door opened, and Mal helped me out, blind but by no means helpless. "Don't open your eyes just yet."

But I didn't need physical sight to divulge the location. My other senses picked up enough - the thrumming of repulsorlifts, the pungent smell of Peragian fuel, the muttering of mechanics.

Why has he taken me to a space port?

I followed him trustingly, one hand held tight in his. The environmental noises echoed off physical objects, and just by sound alone I could formulate a rough sketch of the immediate area.

"Your eyes can deceive you; don't trust them," Master Karon had said. "Trust in the Force."

"Practise blocking one of your senses; see how the others compensate," Freeflight had advised, back in the Western Underground. "What can you see with your ears, Revan? What can you see with your nose?"

We came to a stop, and even without the Force I could sense Malak's budding excitement. He'd been keeping something from me for months now; he'd pleaded that I didn't try to find out, that it was a surprise – and now, I suspected, was the grand reveal.

"Any ideas?" he breathed, a possessive hand sweeping up my arm. I shivered.

"Well, I'm in a spaceport," I murmured, my lips curling in warm happiness. There was a large object in front of me, the shape and size of a snubfighter, at a guess. "Did you buy me a starship, Mal?"

"Better than that," he whispered. "I got you the keys to the stars you've always dreamed of, Revvie. Open your eyes."

It was a snubfighter, one of those dual cockpit starships that fought on the front lines; room enough for two sentients and a droid to act as gunner. I wasn't yet conversant enough to recognize its model, and a brief glance over showed signs of wear. A name on the side had been roughly scratched off.

I glanced back to Malak, puzzled, for surely he hadn't the credits for a purchase on this scale. Little more than a year ago we'd been scrabbling for food in the Western Underground. Mal was pretty ace at playing the economic stocks, sure – and stars hope the Masters never found out about that – but a hyperspace-ready snubfighter wasn't exactly a trivial purchase.

But Malak was looking down at a thin sheet of aluchrome clutched in his other hand. Embossed words shone under artificial lighting. It was a certification of sorts, I recognized, as he handed it to me.

"Mal," I breathed in awe. "You've got your pilot's licence?"

Malak Devari. First Class Starfighter Accreditation.

"Master Lestin agreed, he believes that learning more mundane skills makes for a well-rounded Jedi," Malak answered. His voice was self-satisfied, bordering on smug – but I couldn't fault him. Not for an achievement like this. "A good thing he didn't know about your penchant for pilots, or he would never have let me. I can take you to the stars now, Revvie. Wherever you want, whenever you need."

It struck me then, that his devotion to me surpassed mine. He'd spent months on this, and I didn't believe pilot training was a walk in the park. First Class honours, I wondered in amazement.

"Can you teach me?" I whispered.

"Revan! Pull yourself together!"

The voice came from in front of me. The back of a red-skinned Twi'lek, his hands outstretched, an iridescent turquoise shield spanning from him and encompassing us both.

Revan. No, it wasn't real. I wouldn't let it be real. For if it was, if that was truly me-

An attack from afar slammed into the shield. Hot shards of bright white electricity, crackling around us both. The shimmering turquoise shuddered, but held against the onslaught.

-then what did that mean? What was my loyalty to my friends, to the Republic, worth?

The tearing in my mind grew, a stabbing deep in my temples, a denial, a forgotten history of black holes from a cursed past. A hot melting as everything seemed to peel back, and nothing made any comprehensible sense anymore.

"Revan!" someone yelled, their voice hoarse. "You cannot give up! You never give up! Stand by me!"

Jen, he's in my mind! I cannot stop him-

Revan.

The psychic voice reverberated through me like a damning, ruinous answer, for I knew that voice. I knew it well, and that knowledge made a mockery of all the half-cracked theories I'd scrabbled together to somehow explain myself. To deny all that I had wrought and forgotten.

I had a half-sense of the Force, exploding out from the red-skinned Twi'lek whose name I should recall, as he discarded the shield and launched himself toward the shadows beyond, his green lightsaber spinning in the darkness.

Revan. Can you truly hear me?

The voice was achingly familiar.

Street Kid is Evil Bitch is Revan.

And Street Kid's boyfriend is-

My body convulsed, and suddenly I was crouching, hands clutching at dry leaves, as I expelled the contents of my stomach all over the forest floor.

I regret, now, not killing you face to face. To think that the Jedi concept of mercy might give me that chance…

A dark chuckle rebounded mercilessly inside my head.

My throat burned, and my chest heaved once more. The shink-shink of a lightsaber duel faded into the distance. There was a crunching noise as someone walked closer. The feet halted just behind me. I was staring blankly at debris on the ground, visible due to the blood-red illumination of a 'saber at my back.

"And so, your end is cowering in a pool of your own vomit," a voice murmured. It sounded sad, rather than mocking. "I wish you dead, Revan, but not so stripped of your own dignity."

There was a shuffling noise, a grunt-

You are not hearing me, are you?

"We take her alive, you melodramatic fool," someone else hissed. "You kill my prize, and I'll eviscerate you."

There was a yell-

-cowering in a pool of my own vomit, no, no, I won't let my death come like that-

-and I somehow had the energy to spin and scrabble sideways, to see my end face on at the least, but I found my one ally had returned, a shining green outnumbered by the two red that launched at him with a fury he wouldn't withstand for long.

"Zhar," I murmured through frozen lips. I raised my empty hands, one stiff and numb, and willed my 'sabers to return home.

For once, the Force didn't answer. Maybe I didn't care enough. How could I care, after all I had done?

A shame. I would enjoy relaying my plans for you.

The double-blade held the green at bay, and the single red was behind him.

"Zhar," I mumbled again. A slight tug on the Force, but everything was anaesthetized; my fingers, my thoughts, even my very connection to the Force.

A cry wrenched from the green as the double-blade scored a hit. Then the single.

I was standing, arms raised, expecting some sort of response that didn't come. And then the one holding the green collapsed as the double-blade pierced straight through him.

Time lengthened. He crumpled to the ground ever so gradually, almost leisurely, as his body foundered in front of my unfeeling – no, no, Zhar, get up, I can't lose you too – gaze. Green reflected from his tattered robes as the lightsaber slipped from his grasp, and then the weapon's fail-safe kicked in as it thudded to the ground.

The only colour left in the darkness was cursed, infernal red.

The scene replayed in my head. In slow-motion, a killing blow and sudden collapse of someone who was important to me.

Somewhere, beneath the glacial numbness that felt entirely overwhelming, there was a tiny spark of devastated grief.

I could hear an echo of myself raging, screaming to do something, because I never lost it this way, I didn't give up, there was always a solution if I just tried hard enough, and if I surrendered now I'd be just as dead as Zhar-

But everyone thought Revan was dead, anyway.

I intend to keep Bastila, you know. Such a unique gift, that one. But you-

And I found I couldn't move, even as the bald human turned to me, his face a shadowed mask above the scarlet illumination. A raised fist lifted in front of his sneering face, and an invisible force clamped down on my limbs.

I was soaring, flying backward through the humid air, and nothing felt real or tangible-

My body jerked, snapped hard against something solid, my shoulder collapsing against the unyielding rough bark of a wroshyr directly in my way.

I slid down.

Agony ignited like a maelstrom from both my shoulder and lower arm. It was bad. But it was feeling, of a sort.

Pain is a tool.

That was a path I'd taken, so many times. Maybe it was the only path left.

An echo of someone's disapproval lashed through my head. Pain is a focusing tool of the Dark Side, Jen!

You offer nothing of value anymore. Other than the enjoyment I shall have in killing you.

Footsteps, coming closer. I'd fallen onto my face, panting against the dirt, each breath rifling the harsh leaves of the forest floor. There was a stabbing torment running through my limb.

The torment, the pain. Focus on the pain. Use it. And my consciousness, slow and lumbering, turned to fixate on the pain.

Thoughts narrowed to a pinpoint of concentration. My senses unfurled, and the Force flooded through me like a power conduit I had no control over. All discomfort vanished.

Face-down in the dirt, maybe, but I was wildly open to everything, now. And the Force whispered to me, of the man walking closer, clutching a metal collar that pulsed with microscopic oscillations of electricity-

A recollection – something dredged from the murk of my mind. It was considered ominous to distinguish energy on such an infinitesimal scale. Is that… is that uncommon? I'd asked a Cathar that, recently. She'd never answered.

But someone else had, once.

"Why is my talent so frowned upon?" I demanded. "Is it really that uncommon? Is it's simple rarity why Master Atris treats me like I'm the next Sith Lord on the rise?"

"Padawan," Karon rebuked gently, "You are letting your emotions control you. Find your inner peace."

Master Karon was like that. She'd answer my questions, but only when I could demonstrate an outer – and inner – serenity. It was, without a doubt, the hardest thing I found to learn.

An eternity later, my frustration had ebbed and the Zabrak gifted me with a gentle smile. "Revan, there are few who are able to manipulate machinery and technology. And no one with near your prowess. But you must understand something else. Whilst ionization is a neutral application of the Force, it is also a close-cousin to a darker use employed by many who have lost their way. Combine that with your age when we found you, and you must appreciate why Master Atris advises caution. It does not hurt to slow your training down, Padawan."

A sudden weight compressed my torso as someone sat on me. The neural disruptor was open, ready to enclose around my exposed neck.

And what did it matter, given now I knew the truth?

The Force was there, all around me, buzzing with life and opportunity and choice – but did I deserve any of it?

Revan. There is no hope for either of us now. An abyss of desperate pain was in those words.

Bastila. She was back, and witnessing my capture.

Maybe… maybe I wasn't worth saving, but she was. Wasn't she?

A desperate instinct inside me snatched at the Force; it was weak, minuscule, on a microscopic scale. One small electronic tweak, and the neural disruptor would no longer function. Just there.

Its electrical power was still prevalent, but its ability to repel the Force had gone.

The cool metal touched the back of my neck, and I realized it wasn't enough – I had to be cut off from the Force or they'd know something wasn't right.

The angst-ridden boy had shown me that. He was important… no, his father was. I hadn't mastered the weaves to render myself physically invisible, but concealing my psychic presence had come easy. A last, frantic tug on the Force, and I cut myself off just as the collar snicked home. It was cool and tight against my neck.

Agony exploded from my limb with the Force no longer there. Cauterized fingers. Broken arm – again, the weak one. Dislocated shoulder.

The physical pain shattered through whatever coherence had been left in my thoughts. I couldn't hold back a moan. Forceless, sightless, mindless… but I had to keep the weaves balanced through the discomfort. I had to hold it together.

"Sod it all, Bandon, if you don't kill her right now I will," someone said.

I choked back a laugh – hold it together, how funny, since when does a Sith Lord need to be sane - and I felt a tight band clip around my upper arm. A multitude of needles pricked into my skin, and then abruptly my arm was no longer there. Nerve restraint, I recognized dimly. Dizziness swam through my head.

"I'll end you, Yudan, if you try." A dark growl. Another restraint on another limb. A third, a fourth. "Malak wants her alive. He wants the kill."

Up, up, I was lifted off the ground, and found myself staring into the red-shadowed face of the bald human. My cognizance was splintered, fractured into a thousand messy pieces. One sliver, saner than the rest, focussed on the weak touch of Force I still needed. Only the mildest of pressures, to keep the chance I wasn't sure I wanted alive.

My limbs hung like dead weights off my torso; I couldn't feel my arms or legs – which also meant the lacerating pain had gone. I laughed.

"That's a good thing, right?" I mumbled.

Bandon reached forward to twist a fist tight in my hair, and my head was yanked roughly to the side. It frelling hurt - I didn't have a nerve restraint around my neck and tears stung at my eyes.

I laughed again; that I would cry over this small agony was ridiculous, really.

"Nerve restraint around my neck." It would stop me breathing. That would stop me feeling. It sounded nice.

Through a blurred vision I could see Bandon's grey face staring at me curiously.

"She's always been a scrawny thing," he said absently. I gasped as he thumped me against a wroshyr tree, the bark pressing unevenly into my back. The hand in my hair eased, then moved to close firmly around my neck, mashing the disrupter roughly against my oesophagus.

And somehow, a deep-seated part of me was still holding the Force weaves in check, keeping the outward Force repelled in a sort of circular motion. It was a bit like juggling kakasi fruit, something Jen had practiced. She'd been surprisingly good at it.

Jen was well and truly broken, but she had been a long time ago. By the Sith. By me. By me.

Bandon's other hand moved to cup a breast roughly, before squeezing it hard. I gasped.

"You bedded her for a bit, didn't you, Yudan?" Bandon said conversationally. "I'm surprised our Master never eviscerated you for it, although he probably knows you had no choice in the matter."

"Bandon, stop playing with her and end it."

Bandon's face came closer, his nose almost touching mine. I felt the warmth of his breath and recoiled, but there was nowhere to retreat. His black eyes - black as death, black as mine, didn't nearly everyone's turn yellow? - stared into the depths of my soul.

"I'm not fool enough to risk his wrath, and he would find out. But if he lets me… oh yes, I'll have my fun with you."

His hand squeezed tighter.

Malak's body forced me hard against the hull of the Sith battlecruiser, his superior weight pinning me with the power of the Force behind him. His eyes, a poisoned yellow, burned with the sharp edges of impassioned hate.

I preferred their original brown. The colour of high-grade Corellian malt whiskey, I'd always thought.

He leaned forward, kissing me hungrily, suffocating me, devouring me. There was a temptation to bend to his desire, to sink into the black abyss of submission.

But the temptation was weak, and held no sway over me. With a wrest of mental fortitude, the angry lifeblood of Force sparked through my veins. Under my command, it streamed outward and hurled him away.

Malak went flying across the command deck, which had emptied in the midst of our howling argument. I pushed off against the wall and stalked forward. The haze of emotion added tumultuous strength to the power I could wield. Malak – even Malak – would comply with my will.

My will had him pinioned against a bulkhead; spread-eagled, immobile, and cut off from the Force. I could feel my mouth curving in pleasure. He'd stopped struggling - that may have been defeat or a deliberate action on his part. He was still angry – oh yes – but I could read the desire there, too.

"I am the master, Malak. No matter how important you are to me, you must never forget that," I purred, close enough to touch him now. A finger traced his lips idly, and they parted under the contact.

Malak didn't have quite the same drive as me; the dedication to build an empire strong enough to withstand any threat, any challenge. Even from beyond the Outer Rim.

Malak believed in me, not my vision. A subtle but distinct difference, and that meant I had to be the master. He had to obey.

I couldn't afford for him to screw up on this magnitude again.

I kissed him slowly, felt him yield beneath my touch, beneath my Force bonds that held him captive; willingly or not, I wasn't sure anymore.

I'd always been more powerful than him.

But he'd always been able to surprise me.

"Even from beyond the Outer Rim," I muttered. "What's beyond the Outer Rim?"

"She's certifiably insane," Bandon was saying. He dropped me to the ground with a thud. It would have hurt, without the nerve restraints. "This is just delicious. She's stark raving mad."

The boy had said it was easy to hold the Force at bay like this. He was right, it was like maintaining levitation. A gentle play that was elementary if you balanced the weight just so.

"I'd always dreamed of leaving Talshion, to fly amongst the stars," I whispered.

"She doesn't look like Darth Revan," Yudan muttered. He was standing over me, the brilliance of his lit 'saber still in his grasp. His face was drawn with banked anger. "She looks like Jedi Knight Revan Freeflight. How is that possible?"

"The Jedi mindwipe, obviously," Bandon said, his voice screaming out his boredom. He didn't respect Yudan. Wasn't Yudan a general, once? What was Bandon, a pissy teenager with a bag full of thermal detonators? "What does it matter which one she looks like?"

"It matters!" Yudan snapped. "You can't- you don't just lose the effects of the Dark Side along with your memory!"

"To fly amongst the stars," I echoed. "To fly beyond the Outer Rim?"

The sky was an eerie violent purple that stung my eyes, dotted with five noticeable suns too distant to provide any warmth. There was a complete lack of vegetation, and no life-forms had registered on any of our long-range scanners. This place with dead.

I'd not travelled to this part of the galaxy before. Stars, I'd never seen this on any map.

The Force felt sentient here, like it had a will of its own.

And its intent was evil.

I'd never encountered that, even in places where the Dark Side sang loudly.

I shivered, and for the first time wondered if I'd been wrong to come here. Punch drunk on victory, burning with curiosity over Mandalore's true impetus for conquest, I'd rushed to investigate.

Brash, as always. Vrook Lamar's voice rebuked me again and again, even though I'd barely known him. Reckless, disobedient… she was too old to be trained, no matter her power. They both were.

I glanced to the side, and saw a frown etched on Malak's face. I wondered if he was experiencing the same as me. If I stayed very still, I had the eerie sensation of a malevolent energy creeping, ever so insidiously, into my mind.

Whatever it was, surely we could face it and triumph. Together, we'd always been unstoppable.

I reached out and he clasped my hand.

"Where's your hand now?" I whispered, unseeing. I'd been left prone on my back, two figures staring down at me.

"She doesn't sound like Darth Revan," Yudan hissed. "And earlier, in the Force, she sure didn't feel like Darth Revan, either."

My hand was missing a finger, or was it two? At least I had my jaw. I laughed. "Where's your jaw now?" I mumbled.

"For frakk's sake, Yudan, you're beginning to piss me off," Bandon growled. "You whine more than Nisotsa. You want to kill her? Then do it. See if you can get through me."

It was warm, here, in the red-shadowed black. I could lie back and let my mind float away, let it all go – apart from that one small speck of concentration, still there, still balancing the Force, still keeping open a chance.

"I thought not. You're a coward, Yudan." The words were drawled, and the human snorted before striding away. But the Twi'lek with the pained expression still stood above me, staring.

"I swore to kill Darth Revan," he whispered. He was a ghost from my past, his gaze pinched and fierce, searching mine for answers I didn't have. "And I will, the first time I see her. She must be inside you still, somewhere…"

"Help me right my 'speeder," Bandon called. I stared up blindly into the darkness. "Bloody Revan and her little Force tantrum knocked it right over."

"Little?" Yudan muttered in disbelief, but he turned willingly enough to follow Bandon's directive. It didn't feel right, somehow, that Yudan would cede to Bandon. "The Wookiees will have to make up legends to explain the damage to these wroshyrs."

Yudan moved away, and the shadows closed in. He was headed to Bandon, to Bandon's 'speeder.

Bandon was taking me somewhere on his 'speeder.

How long would it take? I couldn't keep this up forever, I'd drop the weaves sooner or later and then the game would be up.

But… it was hard to know what was real. I was in a forest, and I was a Sith Lord. Or I had been, until my lover had betrayed me. My lover, Malak.

I heard a scuffle, a rustle on the ground, an exclamation of disbelief.

"Huh." There was a world of surprise in that one word. "There's only robes here. The body's gone. Frakk, I didn't believe that actually happened."

The body. Zhar. The light sources had moved away, now, and I was truly blind. I felt something wet trickle down the side of my face.

If this was reality - the restraints killing off sensation in my limbs, the leaves in my face, the dark of the Shadowlands – then I could let Bandon take me and show me the way before I pulled back on the Force and ripped his head off.

That was something Revan would enjoy doing, and it turned out I was her, after all.

But first, Bandon could show me the way to the stars I'd always dreamed of…

…to the stars, and to Malak.

xXx