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The Game
LSF Revan/Malak
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During the war, they began to play a game with each other. It wasn't a game with any stakes, just a little game to help them make it through the increasing darkness.
"When the war's over, we'll get married and live in all alone in a hut in the woods on Bakura," she would say, curled into fetal position in a corner of her tiny quarters.
"When the war's over, we'll travel across the entire galaxy, and I'll finally get you to teach me every language you know," he countered, trying not to look so uncomfortable as he hunched over in the corner with her.
Weeks passed, things got worse, and she began to wonder if she'd ever see him again. They would send messages to each other, and amidst the jumble of tactical discussions and orders, she always waited for the end, when he stopped being her field commander and his ragged voice would say "When the war is over, we'll go to bed and not leave for at least a week." The promise in his voice and the brief spark of life in his eyes as he said it made her smile a little, although her happiness at the thought was as fleeting as his.
"When the war is over," she sent back in her answer, along with orders to lead their section of the fleet in a feint to distract the Mandalorians from another of Admiral Dodonna's suicidal plans, "we won't feel responsible for anyone besides ourselves."
The war dragged on, and their game became a hideous mockery of reality. They still played, though, because it was habit, and it gave them something to hold onto. They clung to what few moments they could steal in all the chaos, all the more precious because they were so rare.
They were trying to determine what to do about the Mandalorian presence on Dagary Minor, and no one would listen to them when they explained their fears about the Republic's plan. Revan scowled and shouted and stormed out of the meeting. Malak found her later, pacing furiously in the hangar bay with clenched fists.
"When the war is over, I hope they take responsibility for the way their fracking stupidity is getting our people out there fracking killed," she spat, glaring at the doorway as if her gaze could penetrate steel and strike down the admirals in their chairs.
She was surprised when he pried open her fingers and took both her hands in his. He tried to reassure her, but she still sensed his own anger. "When the war is over, they will. And they will look at us and know what we have done for the Republic."
They finally started to win, and after taking back Taris, they lay in his quarters and tried not to think about the war with little success. "When the war is over," Malak said, lightly tracing circles on her back, "we're going to get rid of the Exchange for good."
"When the war is over," she agreed, "we're going after Czerka, too." And at that moment, it seemed almost possible.
Then the war dragged on. More people died every day. They were giving the orders now, the difficult orders that determined who lived and who died. They watched the destruction of entire planets, knowing that there was no other choice but to use what few resources they had to protect the key locations, but it didn't make it any easier. Victories and losses wove together and it seemed as if the war would never end. And still they played the game.
"When the war is over..." she began in her first communication to him after the second battle for Dxun, and then found that she couldn't finish. She was close to crying, and when she looked at him, she could feel his despair, even though they were separated by half a galaxy.
"It will be," he told her. "Someday." She wondered if he really believed it.
When she found herself standing over the dead body of Mandalore, she mouthed the words. "When the war's over..." She staggered over to Malak, and passed out in his arms.
In the med bay, she woke up to the bitter smell of kolto and the hum of machines and turned to him. "It's not over," she muttered. The knowledge she had managed to tear from Mandalore's mind before she dealt the killing blow confirmed the suspicions that had been building the past few weeks, and she wasn't sure where to go from there. The enormity of what had just happened had yet to sink in.
"When will it be over?" he asked her, taking her hand.
"I don't know," she told him honestly. "Maybe never." And then the game was over.