Author's Notes: Okay, here we go. This is a giantly giant chapter (the longest one yet), and I think I should apologize before any of you read it for the amount of dialogue here. There is...a lot, and I'm positive I got carried away, but hey, it was still fun. I hope you enjoy it and/or are not angered by the overt philosophizing. Disclaimer: Make sure you read the DISCLAIMER at the end of the chapter if you get through the whole thing. :P Yeah, I went there.

Oh, and special thanks to Jen DeClan, TEN10X, and Captain Azza. Thanks for the reviews, peoples, it means a lot.

Enjoy...!

Chapter Fourteen

The Hawk was tilted slightly as it was imbedded into the ground at an angle, causing the ship to sit on a small incline. Everyone inside was unconsciously leaning one direction to compensate for it.

The entire crew assembled in the main hold. Even Allie was there, her left arm held to her chest in a blue sling. Xristos had told her not to try to move it for at least a few days.

"How are you doing?" Caius asked her.

She shrugged her good arm, said with slight smirk, "Just as good as when you asked five minutes ago."

Elliott looked at Caius as though he were about to explode with laughter, while the Exile said, "Sorry—just making sure."

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though," she said sincerely.

Bastila cleared her throat to bring everyone back to the situation at hand, and then asked all of them at once, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," said Caius. "Is there anything we can do? Can the Hawk even fly again?"

Elliott gave an unsure gesture with his hands, said, "I really have no idea. That she's still in one piece is pretty much a miracle as it is."

Dustil asked, "Could we start the ship and just…see?"

"We could," Elliott answered, "but if there's a problem we don't see…then something bad may happen."

"Such as?" Caius asked.

"We could burst into flames."

"Then let's…not do that," Dustil stated.

"Good point, Captain Obvious!" ridiculed Elliott. Dustil just frowned. "Allie," Elliott began, becoming more serious, "do you think you could survey the ship and see what there is to fix? Or at least judge if she could fly without exploding?"

"Sure," she began, "but I'd have to—"

She was interrupted by Xristos who said, "Hold on, I don't think Allie should do anything for a little while. You saw how bad her arm was, we don't want her to hurt it again."

Allie responded, "I won't move my arm. I can just look, we're going to have to do this sometime."

"Yeah," Elliott said, "she could just find out what the problems are and then have T3 and Dustil fix it."

"Hey!" exclaimed the younger Jedi.

"Sounds good to me," Allie said, not considering Dustil's protest.

"That's good for us," Bastila interceded, "but what about the Sith that shot us down?"

"Considering how hard they hit the ground," Caius said, "I doubt they'll be looking for us. They'll have bigger problems."

"But what if we can't get the ship started," Bastila said, "we'll run across them eventually—if they're still alive."

Elliott responded, "I don't think they are. You should've seen how hard they hit the ground. Miracle shot by Dustil, to be honest."

"Thanks."

Xristos thought that they would have to look into it further, said, "We should try to find out what happened. At least scout the ship—if there are any survivors…we'll have to deal with them."

"Let's send HK," said Caius.

The droid, who had previously been standing in the background, spoke happily, "Statement: HK-47 is ready to serve, master. I am willing to go scout out the enemy crash site and slay the survivors."

"Don't worry too much about killing them all," Caius said, "we don't want you to get destroyed—we need your information. Just use caution, this is a scouting mission."

"Statement: Master, I am disturbed that you display such a lack of confidence in me! None of these Sith inbreeds will pose that much of a threat."

"Just don't get into a firefight, HK. Think like a scout. And use your short range comm to tell us what's going on."

The droid sighed, a strangely 'meatbag' characteristic, "Resignation: Very well, master. I will be off."

"Wait, HK," Caius interrupted, "I know you work better alone, but you should probably take someone with you. If only for numbers in case you actually do get attacked."

"Concession: Master, I do not agree with this idea—at the very least, I abhor it—but I am at your command."

Caius looked around the faces that looked at him, he asked, "Does anyone…want to go with him?"

There were a few moments of silence before Dustil shrugged and raised his hand, he said, "I'll go. I didn't get to go out on the last planet, and to be honest, I'm tired of being on this ship. I've got space legs."

"All right," Caius said, "just be careful. If anything happens, contact us on your comms and we'll see what we can do. Regular updates are probably a good idea. Are you just going to head in the direction of the Sith ship?"

"Yeah, we'll see if there are any survivors," Dustil answered.

Caius nodded, said, "Very good, but don't go yet. We'll see how much damage the ship has. If we can't take off immediately, or we need to find parts, then you should go."

HK muttered something and then stormed off into the swoop hold.

"Crazy droid," muttered Elliott. "I hope you all remember how tough he was when he thought we were going to die."

Everyone ignored his comment. Bastila raised another topic, and said, "Do you think we should try to contact Carth?"

"Not yet," said Caius, "we don't want to broadcast our position to anyone. Even if they couldn't read it, if there are any Sith left on that ship they'll find out where we are immediately. It'd be like a beacon. We can't send any messages now."

Bastila frowned, though she seemed to agree.

"What would we say, anyway?" asked Caius.

Xristos answered, said, "I don't know. But if the Sith have found us, then we've been severely compromised. It might not be wise to continue this way. We'll have to radically rethink our strategy, or perhaps even abandon it altogether. We don't want to accidentally trigger war."

"We should have thought of that before we shot them down," said Caius. "I don't know if we really have a lot of options."

"But we're getting ahead of ourselves," said Xristos, "we need to see if it's even possible to get off of this planet first. Allie, if you think you're well enough to look at the engine room and the outside of the ship…then we should probably get on it."

"I am fine!" she insisted. "Stop asking me every five minutes if I'm okay!"

Xristos laughed, said, "All right—then let's have a look around."

"Doesn't look good?" Xristos asked.

"Nope," responded Allie. "When we were yanked out of hyerspace it did permanent damage to the hyperdrive." She leaned against the wall of the engine room, looked at Xristos, Elliott, and Caius respectively, continued, "We need a new seal for the combustion core. We try to jump with this one cracked like it is…the drive will overheat and explode. And we'll turn into particles."

"Damn it," said Elliott, "how are we going to get another seal?"

Allie shrugged, "I guess we'll have to look around here. That Sith ship is probably the best bet."

"What if their technology is too different?" Caius asked.

"Or what if their hyperdrive is broken as well?" supplemented Xristos.

"Then we'll contact the Republic," Allie said. She paused and thought, then said, "Do we even know if the communications equipment works?"

Bastila entered the room and answered her question for her, "No, not at all. Just static. If we want to get a message anywhere we're going to have to use someone else's transmitter."

Caius sighed, said, "This just keeps getting better and better."

"Well," Bastila began, "I suppose this means we can send off Dustil and HK now. I'll go tell them."

They watched as Bastila left the room. Xristos then said, "What about the rest of the damage, is that fixable?"

Allie said with an air of confidence, "I think so—let's check it out."

An hour later, Elliott was sitting on top of the Ebon Hawk with a toolbox, a frustrated look on his face and two wires in his hand. He was on his knees, trying desperately to repair the ship. One of the panels on top of the ship had been pried off, revealing the innards of the vessel, and he was working within the confines of an opening.

"Dustil should be doing this," he said angrily. T3, working on another part of the ship's hull, agreed.

"No, no, no!" Allie shouted at Elliott as he was tinkering with the various parts. "That one goes there, this one goes here!"

"Damn it!" he yelled, his face contorting in irritation. "I'm putting it here!" There was a sound of something sparking, but Elliott paid it no heed.

Allie shook her head in disapproval, said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Well, too late, I did it." He then shouted down so that Xristos—who was inside the cockpit—could hear him. "All right, that's it. Try it!" he yelled

The old Jedi obliged, but no sooner had he activated whatever it was Elliott was working on than they experienced some unpleasant issues. Right after Elliott had given his command, there was a large sparking explosion, and smoke began billowing up from the removed plank that he was working on. The steam and smoke blew up into Elliott's face, and he started coughing maniacally. Allie shifted out of the way, but Elliott was not so lucky. He looked to be dancing as he tried to avoid the gases. He yelled loudly, "Turn it off! Turn it off!" The Hawk's alarm began sounding—a strange policecraft-like plop of a sound—to signal the error. "Turn. It. Off!"

Allie began giggling to herself, and shook her head, looking downwards with an amused smile on her face.

Bastila and Caius were watching from the ground, several yards away, as Xristos began bashing the buttons on the Hawk's cockpit console to shut off whatever was malfunctioning.

Elliott exhaled angrily and grumbled. He looked up at Allie, who just regarded him humorously. He grumbled again, and she started laughing again.

Caius chuckled after watching the display. He was actually beginning to like all of these people, much more than he had thought he would. Even Elliott was growing on him.

"So," Bastila spoke up, her voice loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to keep it from being perceived past where they were standing, "got everything figured out?"

Caius, not really in the mood to talk, said sharply, "Didn't I ask you that several days ago?"

"You did," came her accented reply, "so I figured I'd turn the tables."

"Why? Why do you want to turn the tables? Can't everyone see that I do not particularly enjoy dealing with this?"

"What are you talking about…exactly?"

"What do you mean? Everyone knows about this now. These people gossip like wildfire."

"It's always been that way with the Ebon Hawk, it seems. Sometimes the people in it can get very adolescent and angsty."

Caius smirked slightly, said, "Yourself included?"

"No, I did not say that. I already told you about myself. And I appreciated you listening. But I realized that we haven't spoken since then—I was merely trying to find out how you were doing. Apparently the question offended you. It's ironic considering you asked me the same thing earlier." Bastila was a little icy in her tone, though it became evident to Caius that she wasn't really referring to anything specific when she began the conversation.

He said, "Sorry—I thought you were talking about something else."

"Hmm," she mused, "Allie?"

"Yeah—that's all anyone else is talking about."

"How did they find out?" she asked.

Caius was unhappy again, said flatly, "There is nothing to 'find out'. Just this imbecilic crew is trying to force me into a relationship with our mechanic—and Elliott seems to think it's fun to blather on about it all the time."

Bastila did not look at him. They stood side-by-side throughout the whole conversation, not facing each other at all. She said, "Well, at least you aren't a Jedi anymore. If you ever changed your mind…nothing would happen."

"Like with you and Revan?"

Bastila nodded solemnly, but when she spoke it was not about yourself, she said, "You don't feel anything for Allie?"

"I didn't say that. But I don't want to feel anything for her. It is just too…complicated. I don't want to deal with it. Can't you relate?"

"Too well," was her response.

Caius spoke, "Everything is so unnecessarily difficult. I thought once I got a new crew that would change. Apparently not. Apparently angsty strife follows the Hawk around like the plague."

"I wouldn't exactly call our situations 'angsty'. That's a schoolyard thing. We're not writing horrible, forlorned poetry or songs about it. We're just adults trying to figure out what to do with the situations in front of us. There's nothing 'angsty' or juvenile about that."

The Exile was about to speak again, but Elliott's shouting overpowered his voice. The pilot exclaimed, "No—wrong tool, T3!" He grumbled, "Horizontal boosters? Alluvial Dampers?" T3 then wheeled over to the little section of the cockpit that Elliott was working on. The little droid was a good two feet above him as he was on one of the Hawk's inclines. The mischevious robot then bumped—whether it was intentional, Caius couldn't tell—a toolbox down onto the pilot below him. Elliott yelled in pain as the box struck him on the head, said, "Damn it, droid!" He looked at the tools around him, said, "That's not it! Bring me the hydrospanner!"

Allie was laughing even harder now as she watched the scenario unfold. Her laugh was pleasant in its sweetness, although it was not a unique one at all. Not like the deep guffaws Xristos would make or the melodic chuckles produced by Elliott. Neither of them were very pleased with the situation, though, only Allie found it funny. Probably because she could clearly see what they were doing wrong.

Bastila brought the conversation back to Caius, said, "She's very pretty."

"That just makes it more complicated," came his stoic reply.

Bastila sighed slightly, said, "You know—I initially tried to resist her coming with us. Not because of her, though, she's very nice to have around, and she's a good person. I mean…I like her. But…I was afraid something like this would happen. Though I can't say I anticipated it to concern you—I thought Dustil would be more of an issue, considering their similarity in age."

Caius thought for a moment, then said, "Two things: one, Allie is thirty-three."

"What?" Bastila said, clearly surprised. "I…thought she was much younger. I guess…age isn't an issue." Clearly Bastila was shocked that Allie was older than her. How she didn't know already, Caius had no idea.

"Two," Caius went on, ignoring Bastila's interruption, "Dustil is as hyperconservative a Jedi as you could imagine. He thinks I'll fall to the dark side if I get involved with her—which, I make mention, I am not. There's no way he'd get involved with any woman." He paused, then said, "He certainly wouldn't approve of you and Revan."

"And that's why you can't tell anyone about it. Contrary to what you might think, I'm not that embarrassed about my feelings for him in the 'angsty' sense. I'm just afraid of what will happen to me if the Order finds out. That was why I was so hesitant to talk about it. And still am."

"You certainly seem more comfortable."

"Not really. It took me a long time, but I finally came to terms with the fact that I told you everything. But no one else needs to know. It's something I have to keep private—for the sake of the Order." She then added an addendum, "Fortunately for you, you don't have this problem."

"No," he conceded. He thought about what Xristos had told him, though, and then decided that he had to speak up. Bastila needed to hear. He said, "The old man knows."

Bastila voice was wary, hesitant. She asked, "…excuse me?"

"Xristos," Caius elaborated, "he knows about you and Revan."

The air around Caius seemed to tense, and then Bastila blurted out, "You swore you would not tell anyone!"

"I didn't!" he offered as soon as he could. "The old man overheard us on Nar Shaddaa. I kept my promise—you have to believe me."

"And he told you he knew?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Yes," Caius insisted, "but he also vowed not to repeat it."

Bastila did not speak for a long time. Caius dared not look her in the face for fear of being glared to death. They stood in a stuffy, awkward silence and watched Elliott and Xristos fuss over the various problems with the Hawk as Allie and T3 tried desperately to fix what was broken.

At length, Bastila spoke. It was a quiet, breathy whisper, the kind of voice one uses when admitting a wrong or defeat. She put her hands on her head, said, "This is all so…out of control..."

"Don't say that—this is not the end of the world."

"Oh, and suddenly you're the expert?" she asked bitterly, "don't you know what this means? What if I lose my knighthood over this? Everything could get turned upside-down."

Caius was confused, he said, "But the Order has been nearly shattered. There are only a few dozen Jedi Knights left, there's no way you'd get exiled from the Order now. Not with it in its current state and with you the most powerful ally they have. Maybe ten years ago…but not now."

Bastila sighed, said, "The point is that it will still inspire controversy. Perhaps I won't be exiled, but I'll be humiliated."

"So it is embarrassment, then?" he asked.

"Fine—that's what it is. I'm ashamed of that and of my betrayal of the Jedi Code."

"But I don't think you have to worry, Xristos won't tell anyone."

Bastila laughed, a nervous and disbelieving laugh that bore no humor at all. She seemed to be a little out of it now, and clearly the fact that her secret was getting around was not exactly comforting to her. Compliment that with a crashed ship on a strange planet and one had a recipe for an emotional tirade.

"I didn't know you were this…negative about the Order," said Caius. He noticed that she was still insisting using the 'doom' language, even though it was quite clear that she would not be punished too dramatically if the Jedi learned of her secret. But she was not in a mood to be resoned with.

She emanated that nervous chuckle again, said, "Oh, I didn't use to be. I was the quintessential paragon. But all it took for me to see otherwise was to fall in love with Revan and then stumble into the dark side. The weird thing is that falling to the dark side is apparently okay, but falling in love isn't. You, of all people, should know that the Jedi don't always forgive."

"You don't have to talk to me about the flaws of the Jedi. I know about them more than anyone, but I'm talking about you. You don't have to be afraid of Xristos—he won't compromise you. And I don't think you have to worry about the Order either—you're too valuable to them for them to allow anything like this to happen. And besides, they all like you."

"I wish I could believe you," she retorted. Clearly she was very affected by her treatment by the Order since the Civil War. Perhaps she felt hypocritical and therefore lashed out at them because of it.

"Have you spoken to Xristos at all?" Caius asked. "He's very…liberal…in his views about love. He likes to talk about it. Maybe you should ask him about it."

Bastila bit her bottom lip, said, "I am going to have to talk to him either way. If what you say is false—then I will have to beg him not to repeat what he knows." She gave a tremendous sigh, said, "This is not going to be pleasant."

She was about to leave him there when the personal comm she had in the pocket of her robes crackled to life. There was static and then Dustil's voice came piercing through it.

"This is Dustil," it said, "can anyone hear me?"

"This is Bastila," the woman said to him in a cool tone that completely masked the emotional revelation and conversation she had just been through. "Are you all right? And have you found anything?"

"Nothing yet…at least for our ship. But there is all sorts of strange stuff out here. You should see it. Once you get out of the steppe where we crashed, there are all sorts of old, archaic structures and things. Even some statues and memorials. It looks like this place was once inhabited by a sentient race."

HK chimed in from the background, said, "Statement: Much to my dismay, we have found no living meatbags. Someone beat me to exterminating them."

Bastila then responded, "How is that possible? This planet seems thoroughly uninhabitable—it is entirely dead."

"Maybe it wasn't always," Dustil said.

"But it doesn't even rotate—surely this place could not have sustained life."

"I don't know what to tell you," Dustil replied, "because I'm looking right at the evidence right now, and it says that you're wrong."

Caius suggested, "It's possible that species here adapted to the hostile environment through their evolution. Look at Tatooine—somehow there's life there."

"But there isn't even plant life on this planet," said Bastila. "Even Tatooine used to be a lush place—before the Rakata atomized it."

"Maybe the same thing happened here," said Caius.

Dustil's voice crackled through the comm again, saying, "Well, we'll talk about the planet's ecology later. I just figured you'd want an update as we went on."

"How far are you from the Sith ship's crash site?" Bastila asked.

"We still have a ways to go, I'll update you again later. Dustil out."

The transmitter then went silent.

"That was interesting," said Caius, hopeful that Bastila had cooled down.

"It was," she said, "but I'm a little preoccupied right now. Just…give me a minute. I need to think."

Caius obliged, leaving Bastila to herself as he strode closer to the commotion at the Hawk. He was very confused about how to react to Bastila. He had no idea how much animosity she felt towards the Jedi. He remembered her as being a staunch supporter of the Council through thick and thin. After all, she had not gone to war against the Mandalorians as he had. She was too young, but he knew that she supported their decision to bide their time. Now she seemed to be vehemently opposed to them, despite the fact that she was still a Jedi. What this told him was that she still had feelings for Revan, feelings she knew that the Order condemned, and that was why she felt at odds with them. They condemned a part of her. No matter how hard she insisted that she no longer loved Revan—that is was something of her past—he now knew this to be gloriously and utterly false.

By the time Caius made it to the base of the Hawk's contorted loading ramp, and drifted out of his thoughts, he noticed that Xristos was standing at the bottom. He was looking up at Allie and Elliott, as they were still on top of the ship. He shouted, "That's enough for me. I'm old and I need a break. You can continue doing whatever it is you are trying to do—it doesn't seem to me to be working anyway." He glanced to his right and saw Caius, said, "Great! Caius! You can take my place. Get up there and do whatever Allie tells you."

Before Caius could say otherwise, Xristos disappeared into Hawk.

The Exile conceded to doing what he was advised and strolled up the roof of the Hawk via the natural earthen ramp that was created out of their crash site.

"All right," Caius said to Allie, "what can I do?"

Allie opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Elliott, who said, "Give me the hydrospanner!"

Several hours—and a few successful repairs later—the crew resolved to rest. It was not a hard decision to make, as they were all completely exhausted from the day's ordeal. It was difficult to function on a normal circadian cyle, as jumping from planet to planet left them with a lot of artificial night and day. They had to make time to sleep, not because they were especially tired, but because their bodies demanded it.

This was such an occasion. Despite the fact that the planet they had been marooned on had no night, it was dark enough to pretend. Without any power going to the lights, it was very dark in the dormitories, and allowed for them to sleep easily. Certainly much easier than Dustil or HK would have it. Their scouting mission was going to take a while. If Dustil determined to sleep, he would have to do so on the ground. But he would at least have the consolation that HK was guarding him. But considering the eternal dusk—or dawn—of the planet's sky, he might not ever decide to sleep.

But not all of those on the ship could sleep. Or, at least, Bastila Shan could not.

No sooner had she lain down than did her mind begin swimming with restless thoughts. It was a terrible affliction. Her body was dead tired, but once she even seemed to touch her head against a pillow, her brain kicked into overdrive. It would not desist, and she was getting no relief.

Allie was sleeping peacefully in the bunk behind her, the mechinc's arm apparently causing her no pain. Bastila groggily and unhappily sat up and threw her legs over the side of her bed. She ran her hand over her face, pulling her eyes open, and then looked at the ground. She could not sleep, no matter how hard she tried. After a few moments, she slowly stood up and stretched. She grabbed her outer Jedi robe, bundling it over herself, and then left the room.

She strode slowly, engrossed in thought, through the corridors and into the main hold. This night was not unlike the torturous one she had spent on Coruscant. But at least now she had the added peace of mind of not being close to the Jedi at all. She did not feel like a betrayer in the heart of her allies' abode when she was this far away. She was just a wayward soul.

As she walked through the hold, she was surprised to find Xristos Karianis was not only awake as well, but moving in an adjacent direction to her. He looked to be heading to the cockpit.

She squinted through the dim, near darkness, and said, "Xristos, what are you doing up?"

He did not jump, as though he had expected interruption, and said in his deep voice, "I got my sleep earlier. I was just heading somewhere quiet to meditate. Perhaps I should ask you the same question? Or were you going to do the same thing?"

Bastila responded, "I wasn't planning on it. I was just walking around, trying to clear my head."

"I see," said the old man soothingly, "such is the life of a Jedi—the cost of discipleship. What's troubling you?"

Bastila did not want to tell him, but she knew she had to. She had to talk to him about what he knew about her. She wanted to run away and let the matter die, but she knew that was not possible. The old man was so friendly and amiable that she felt more comfortable in talking to him than she had thought she would. She said, "I don't know how to even began."

Xristos just nodded.

She whispered, "Can we move somewhere else? Outside, perhaps?"

"Why? Are you afraid of eavesdroppers? We could if you want, though I don't know who you are concerned about."

Bastila thought for a moment. He was right, Caius already knew her secret, and Allie and Elliott would not pose any sort of threat to her even if they did know. Still, she did not like the idea of them hearing so she suggested a compromise: "Can we go to the cockpit?"

"Certainly."

They strolled into the cockpit and sat down in the pilot and co-pilot seats, Bastila on the right and Xristos on the left. It was still very dark, but through the viewport the dim sky cast a bit of light on them. Bastila sighed loudly, ready to orchestrate her speech. But Xristos spoke first.

He said, "So, what's weighing on you?"

"Well," Bastila began, "I may as well be blunt." She gathered herself, "Caius told me that you know…about me…and…Revan."

Xristos nodded quietly.

"So you do. Then the charade is up. What are you planning on doing, then?"

"Why, nothing malicious. What do you expect me do?"

"To report me to the Council—or whatever Jedi are left."

"And why would I do that?"

Here was the old man's frustrating tendency to answer questions with more questions. Bastila pursued him and said dejectedly, "Because love is forbidden. I broke the Jedi code…I failed as a Jedi. I deserve to be punished and corrected." Though she had thought this many times, she had never actually said it, or heard it verbalized in any fashion. Now that she did, the conversation was imbued with significant weight. This would determine her future as a Jedi.

Xristos was dismissive, said, "Of course not, surely you know me better than that?"

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Nothing," he said, finally giving a direct answer. "If anything, I encourage you whole-heartedly. Any time a Jedi sees through these moronic limitations and realizes how terribly wrong the Council is, I offer my enthusiastic support to them."

"This is not what I expected…but Caius said you were a liberal Jedi."

"Liberal is just a word, Bastila. I like to think of it as being smart."

"Why do you feel this way? Why are you against what the Jedi Code teaches?" she asked. Although she was still a bit concerned, she was curious as to what he believed—and why.

"Love," he said distantly. "It's a funny thing, isn't it?"

Bastila did not respond.

He continued, "There is not a more powerful or engrossing emotion than love. But there is so much more to it. It is the fuel that powers the universe—and yet…the Jedi would deny it of you. Why?"

"You know why," she said, trying to indicate that she wanted him to answer the questions, not the other way around. "Love is passion, it blinds us and through our confusion we fall to the dark side. It happened to me, it happened to Dustil. There are countless others: Nayama Bindo, the three hunters that stalked the terentatek, the list goes on. I don't doubt its truth—just that I violated it."

"And what if I told you that they were mistaken? That the Jedi are so far off from the correct doctrine in this instance that I believe only complete reform will save them from inadvertently dooming themselves to millennia of this circular pattern?"

"I'd say that you're speaking pretty boldly, and that you should have proof that this is so."

"I do," he said simply.

"So you want the Jedi to lift the ban on love?"

"Not only that—I want them to encourage it."

This was a very strong assertion. Bastila wanted to believe that he was right, for her own sake, but years of teaching otherwise demanded that she play the devil's advocate. She said, "How would you do that? How could you defy the ancient teachings?"

"Let's start at the beginning," he said, taking control of the conversation. "I want to talk about why I believe they put the ban on love. I think it is a result of a terrible and tragic misunderstanding."

Bastila swallowed, but did not talk—she let the man continue.

"It all hinges on this fact: love begins to be a demon only when it begins to be a god. When love is idolized and deified, pursued only for its own sake, and allowed to take control and dictate actions—then we have a problem. That is what the Jedi seek to guard against. When love is not raised to such an altar, then the issue resolves itself. The reverse is then true: love ceases to be a demon the moment it ceases to be a god. Once that happens, then you'll find that love is perfectly compatible—and, in fact, integral—to life as a true Jedi."

This was certainly a different take. Bastila tilted her head, said, "I don't follow. You said yourself that they banned it because it takes control and is glorified beyond what is practical. You've justified their reasoning."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head in a very paternal and gentle way, "that is not correct. The reason is that the Jedi, frankly, have no idea what love is. They find one aspect of it potentially dangerous and so they overreact and shut themselves off from it completely. This is a grievous fault."

"You still haven't really answered my question," Bastila interjected.

"I'm getting there, have patience, Bastila," he responded.

She chafed slightly at the rebuke, but then asked, "All right—so what is love?"

"It is everything, Bastila. It is a pure, elemental force in the galaxy. It predates life. It is the essential home within which life arose—without it we would be nothing. It is a field that binds everything together. The Force…is love. But not in the way you might think. It is everywhere and everything that matters in this life."

"That's a pretty radical viewpoint," she said, "have you presented it to the Jedi before?"

He gave a dismayed sigh, said, "They don't listen to me. Now, let me continue." He cleared his throat. "Lovers who are enraptured by each other in love have achieved a degree of unity with the Force that very few others can, an irony of which the Jedi should be ashamed. But that is not the only form of love. It is just the most familiar. Most people think that there is only one love—the kind between a man and woman. I blame those degenerate holovids and avalanche of romance novels for that. Romantic love is a beautiful thing—but it is not the only thing."

"How many kinds of love are there, then?" asked Bastila. She admitted to herself that she was getting more interested in the conversation as it went on.

"By my count," Xristos said, "there are four. If our language were different, it would be easier to elaborate. But as it is not, I'll have to take some time to explain. Let me say first that the one the Jedi are afraid of is romantic love. When they leveled the ban against love that is what they had in mind. But they did not realize what they had done."

"You count four? I can't think of any others besides romantic love," said Bastila.

"They are so very often overlooked. But there are four kinds. Now…I hope you'll bear with me, I can go overboard when talking abut this."

Bastila smiled, though there was not enough light for Xristos to see her. She said, "Go on, I'll listen."

"The first is mere affection. I say 'mere' because it is love that is most often neglected. It's the kind of familial love that develops amid almost anyone and anything. Even animals can bear it for one another. People often are affectionate towards inanimate objects as well. It is a very wide-spread love, you will find it everywhere. Some people have it for everyone, but it is not limited to a certain group as the other kinds are. It is like gradually being accustomed to someone's character and then loving them not in spite of, but because of, their faults. Things that were initially aggravating or distracting about a person can become endearing. It is a very general love. Of course the Jedi never talk about it, even though they will exhibit it themselves, which makes them violators of their own code of mores."

Bastila figured she agreed with this, but it seemed that Xristos wasn't really proving anything. If, as he had stated, romantic love was what the Jedi had in mind when they forbade love, then why was he speaking of these other forms? She had already asked enough questions, however, and decided to just politely nod and let him continue.

He took a moment's rest and then continued, "But that is the least intrusive of loves. They get more problematic…in a…graduated sense. Anyway, next is friendship—which is obviously love of friends. This one, too, is often overlooked or dismissed. A lot of people don't even seem to think that there is love between friends at all. The Jedi seem to agree with this, but they are wrong. There is love. It is somewhat based on like mindedness, but it follows in the same pattern as affection. Friends are united in a common interest. Lovers may be face to face, looking at each other, but friends are side to side, looking upon a joint pleasure."

The old Jedi breathed deeply, the gray light sliding over the side of his face, and continued, "People are relational beings—we need other people. I doubt a man without friends would be able to function well—if at all—in society. We need friends. If only to bring out the whole of our personality." He cleared his throat. "We are never fully ourselves when we are by ourselves. It takes friends to pull out all the aspects of our personality. In each of my friends there is something that only one other friend can fully bring out. By myself, I am not large enough to bring my whole man into activity. It takes other friends to do that. Because of this, friendship is the least jealous of the loves. It offers itself to others in order to complete itself."

The old man was getting more and more enthusiastic as he spoke. Bastila noticed how animated he was becoming. He then said, "Take you, for instance. You are my friend. And I love you, Bastila. Friendship. You bring out a part of me that would otherwise remain hidden. You are like a daughter in that you are so young, and yet are listening to an old man like me discuss love and give advice. If I had a daughter, this is what I would be doing with her. Without friends, I would just be a lonely old man—thinking myself to death. Friendship is absolutely necessary to existence. Do the Jedi teach this? No."

Bastila was, for lack of a better word, touched by his comments. She realized how important it was to be told that she was loved. Even if it was a "brotherly" sort of love. No one had told her, before Revan, that they loved her—and after he had left, she was again uninformed. Obviously this was very different, but she liked hearing it. It was as though some part of personal dignity and worth had been denied her, and only now was she realizing it.

"Now," the old man continued, "we get to the most confusing—and rewarding—one: romantic love. Please interrupt me when I talk, though, I don't want to feel like I'm lecturing you." The last comment was almost a plea, and then he continued, "This is the most important love in terms of what they Jedi banned."

Bastila nodded in affirmation.

He picked up, "There is not really a good word in our language for this kind of love. Most of the words we know are fraught with double meanings—or they have lost their original meaning. For now, I'm going to refer to it as 'eros'."

"Eros? What kind of word is that, what does that mean?" she asked.

"Well, it is the root for our word 'erotic', if that helps."

"So, it is basically sex," she stated.

"No, only in part. Sex is the most obvious component of eros, but it is not the only thing. It is the love between a man and woman that is greater than just the physical act. Sexual desire, without eros, wants only it. Only sex. With eros, sexual desire wants the Beloved. It is that kind of desire, but it is for a specific person, not only for the feeling that comes with it. It's an unfortunate phrase that we use when we say that a lustful man is prowling the streets because he 'wants a woman'. Ironically, a woman is just what he doesn't want. He wants pleasure for which a woman happens to be the necessary apparatus. That is only sexual desire. Eros, however, through some mysterious functioning, makes a man not want a woman, but one particular woman. And only her. Not just the pleasure that she can give. Do you see the difference?"

"Yes," she said. "But then this is the kind of love that you said the ban is really forbidding. How do you justify it? This is the kind that trips people and allows them to fall to the dark side."

Xristos nodded, said, "You are correct. And this is what brings me back to what I said in the beginning—that love becomes a demon when it becomes a god. That is what happens in this regard. Eros, honored without reservation and obeyed unconditionally then morphs from something wonderful into a demon—or a slavedriver. It makes the promises of a god, but it cannot fulfill them—only offering glimpses of what is truly sovereign: the Force."

Bastila wanted to interrupt, but she simply couldn't bring herself to do it.

"People often mistake the feeling of 'being in love' for the love itself, and they pursue that. When they do that, then they are lost. Eros will never provide that kind of perpetual euphoria, it never claims to, and then they will be disappointed at best or led terribly astray at worst. This is what the Jedi seek to avoid. But in their 'wisdom' they decided it would be better to bypass love altogether than deal with the tendency to idolize eros. How erroneous a decision! Can you think of anything more foolish? It is like deciding that because one will always get dirty, bathing is useless. We decide that bypassing bathing altogether will allow us to avoid the potentially hairy ramifications of being 'dirty', but surely this is…well…stupid."

"So then what is your final analysis? You're getting a bit circular here," Bastila said, hoping to redirect him to his point.

Xristos smiled, said, "Right, I'm sorry. I tend to get carried away. My point is that the Jedi, in seeking to avoid the problems that come with eros by banning love altogether, are terribly misguided. In reality, what they hope to ban is being in love. That is where they identify the danger, but they lump all sorts of love together and declare all of them anathema. So their restriction is, then, on falling in love, not on love itself."

"Perhaps if they'd be clearer we could avoid a lot of misunderstandings."

"It is possible, but I believe that banning 'falling in love' is just as hazardous. A young Jedi who inexplicably finds himself attracted to a woman he knows may incorrectly assume that he has fallen to the dark side. If he doesn't destroy himself mentally trying to eradicate the feeling, he'll end up actually falling to the dark side because of it. What terrible irony! It's a catch-22."

The old man reclined in his seat, then waved his hand at Bastila, saying, "Suppose that happened to you? What if you ran off and joined the Sith, believing you'd fallen to the dark side, simply because the Jedi said that you did? In reality you could be a paragon of the Order—which you are. And yet they would tell you otherwise because you are simply behaving normally. All your talents and wisdom and intelligence would be in the hands of the enemy. That is why this teaching is such a tragedy, and why it is so dangerous."

"But then that makes being 'in love' the problem. That is when a Jedi is most susceptible to passion, and when a Jedi would be most susceptible to the dark side," said Bastila.

"No, what we need to do is purge our lexicon of that phrase. We must never again speak of love leading to the dark side. That is not a natural connection. It's a perverted hijacking of what being 'in love' means. If we never connect it to the dark side—if we simply treat it as a normal part of life, even for a Jedi—then the problem will be largely eliminated."

There was a brief pause as both of them considered what the other had said.

He then continued: "Being in love is a natural extention of love. Love, as distinct from 'being in love', is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity strengthened by habit and through reliance on, of all things, the Force. People who have this kind of love can have it for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other, just as you can love yourself even when you do not like yourself. It is on this love that life is sustained, 'being in love' was just the explosion that started it."

"All of this sounds too improbable to achieve. Not that the Jedi would change their minds anyway," began Bastila, "but supposing you are right, how would someone manage to have that kind of love for such a long time?"

"It is, as I said, not a matter of feeling but of will," said the old man. "It's the state of the will we have naturally about ourselves, but must learn to have about other people."

"And then the fourth kind of love?" Bastila asked.

Xristos was enthusiastic, said, "The perfect time to introduce it. The final love is universal. It is a love for each and every person who lives. Unconditional love. One could call it charity, but it is far more than that. It is the kind of love that is both natural and unnatural. It is natural in that it is the greatest form of love there is, and it is unnatural in that it violates everything we know about humanity. Love your family members? That's easy. Friends? That too. Strangers? Not as easy. Enemies? Practically impossible. And yet…this…this is exactly what the Jedi teach. We are taught that our lives, as Jedi, are as sacrifice. We are meant to do whatever it takes to preserve peace and love, even to lay down our lives for it. That is the greatest, most loving sacrifice there is. The Jedi teach this. And yet at the same time they teach that love will lead to the dark side! How, then, can one learn to do this at all? Love in this fashion is learned through each of the other loves I have mentioned—especially eros. Unconditional love can only be achieved when the others are understood…and especially if they are not outright banned. Don't you see the illogicality? The Jedi teach us to grow a tree without any roots. It is absurd. They'll tell us to do these things, but while condemning love. You could do the greatest acts in the galaxy, but without love, what would it be?"

"I…I don't know," Bastila admitted.

"It would be an unharmonized noise, Bastila. Clanging cymbols. Smashing rocks. Nails on a chalkboard. It would be action devoid of any soul or meaning."

The conversation was taking a long time. They were covering almost every conceivable angle concerning love. And yet…though it was not helping their mission at all, Bastila loved every minute of it. It was as though she were looking at herself—and at Revan—for the first time. Or, at least, the first time that she wasn't subconsciously condemning herself.

Was what Xristos said true? Maybe. He was a verbose old man, like most, and she was uncertain whether she really agreed with him. But she was certain that she wanted him to be right. She wanted this love to be good and natural and helpful to her. And then that's when it hit her.

I do still love Revan, she thought. I love Revan—even if I am not in love with him.

But now this admission was less horrifying than it would have been merely an hour ago. She was okay with it. She did not have to lie to herself any longer. Argument and philosophy went out the window, she was just in a state of calm.

"I still love Revan," she said out loud. Xristos looked on with interest. "But I don't know what to do about it now."

"I know," he said gently, "But there isn't anything you can do right now. You'll just have to wait and see if you find him, and if so, you'll know what to do."

"But what if we never find him?"

"Then at least you know what you feel. And, as they say, 'it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'."

"Is that what you believe?" she asked. And then it dawned on her. How was it that this Jedi was purporting to be able to speak so authoritatively on love? She then asked, "How do you know this much about love? Have you loved and lost as well? Surely you can't be speaking on this topic in…well…ignorance."

Xristos's pleasant aura dimmed quickly. He slouched forward slightly, just enough to be noticed. He was more somber than before. He said, "Yes. I did. It is a long story, and we've spent enough time talking for now. You should get some sleep before tomorrow."

Bastila then found herself yawning, she said, "You are right. But I have to know. Will you tell me the story? I need to know where you're drawing this knowledge. Is it experience?"

"Yes," he said. "I'll tell you the story tomorrow. I promise. But for now, I've found myself tired as well."

Bastila was ready to leave, but before she left, she had to ask something that had only just immediately occurred to her. She asked, "Did you ever know a man named Jolee Bindo?"

Xristos leaned back and thought on it for a moment, then said, "I met him once. We spoke briefly, but I know he was killed in the purge and I never got a chance to see him again."

"You would've liked him," Bastila said, "he thought like you do. And he had loved and lost…like us."

"That he did," responded Xristos. "I didn't necessarily agree with everything Jolee thought, but he, from what I can tell, was a good man. The galaxy is emptier without him."

Bastila stood up slowly. She was tired, but now more at ease. She felt she could actually find rest. She nodded and said, "It is emptier, but now I see that he was right—and I think…maybe…you are too." She then bade Xristos goodnight, and he said he was going to stay in the cockpit and meditate for a bit longer.

Just as she was on the way out, she turned and said, "Xristos—thank you."

"Anytime," was his response.

Bastila then shuffled off to the dorms. Allie was still sleeping soundly. The Jedi then collapsed on her own bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Caius's night was not as soothing as Bastila's. Once again he was being haunted by dreams of his past. He had hoped that since he had learned the truth about his connection to Elliott he would not have to worry about the grotesque flashbacks, but such was not the case. As with many nights past, Caius was forced to relive part of the war. And it never got any easier.

The ship held in orbit, just before the final assault on Malachor was to begin. The soon-to-be Exile was much younger then. His face was less worn, he had a full head of hair, and he had not yet received the scar below his right eye that he now bore. He sat on a cushioned bench in his officer's quarters, weighing a small envelope in his hand. It was such a light thing for all of its prestige, and he did not want to have it.

"Look at you," said a voice from a few feet to his left, "another star! You're moving up in the world."

Caius looked to his left and beheld the imposing figure of his friend Marcus Celer. The first thing one noticed when seeing Marcus was his size—he was almost six and a half feet tall, a good head taller than Caius. But the two had been together since before the war, having been friends since their induction into the Jedi Order. Marcus was Malak to his Revan—they worked as a tandem, Marcus functioning as the imposing enforcer and Caius as the more subdued leader. They fit well together in Caius's brigade, but now he was being promoted to Major General, leaving Marcus—who had never progressed past Colonel—further behind him. Although the man insisted otherwise, Caius knew there was a bit of jealousy—he did not really appreciate Caius giving him orders with such frequency.

"I didn't even want the first star," said the newly promoted General.

"Well, someone thinks you're worth a promotion," said Marcus. Aside from his noticeable height, he had a stern, unshaven face and bright blue eyes. His black hair was unkempt, but not long.

"Why do they even give these to Jedi?" asked Caius. "It's not as if we can wear them on our shoulders—we don't even wear uniforms."

Marcus shrugged, said, "Don't ever tell the Republic to buck convention. They'll never do it. When you think about it…they're rather backwards."

Generally the two men agreed with each other, causing some to refer to them as twins or brothers, as they almost always sided with each other. But in this instance Caius was not in agreement. He said, "Not as backwards as the Mandalorians."

Marcus blew out slowly, said, "No, I suppose not. But still, it makes you think. Maybe after this war we can change the Republic—try to tear down all these old, bloated traditions."

"I don't want to do that—I only want to win this war and go home. I'll leave politics to the politicians."

The large man laughed slightly, said, "I think politicians are the least capable people to handle politics."

Caius laughed, "Maybe."

Marcus strode past him, his brown robes flowing behind him, and went to look out the small viewport nearby. He said, "But we won't have to worry too long. The war is almost over. We'll defeat the Mandalorians soon." He looked back at Caius, "We'll kill the bastards. Yes we will—and then it'll be over."

"You sound like you would enjoy it…" said Caius hesitantly.

"I would," replied Marcus with gravity, "I hate them."

"You shouldn't hate them," said Caius, "we're not supposed to."

"And yet I feel perfectly fine hating them—because they deserve it. And defeating them is necessary—for the greater good."

Caius was more than a little unnerved by these comments; he wondered what had come over his friend. To act this way was not like him. He said simply, "I don't hate them."

"Then you're a better man than I," replied Marcus. He then gestured to the envelope in Caius's hands, said, "Must be why you're being promoted and I'm not."

"Don't tell me you're jealous of this…" Caius stated, "I don't even want it. It's just a stupid piece of metal—it doesn't mean anything to a Jedi."

"No," coughed Marcus, "Of course not."

"Why are you acting this way?"

There was a pause. Marcus looked away, out the viewport again, then said, "It's nothing. I'm just tired. I want this to be over. Soon…it will. And then we can go back to normal."

Caius did not say anything.

"Look," said Marcus as he walked towards him, "don't worry about it. I'm happy for you, really. When this war is over we can just put this little disagreement behind us. We're just…so close. I can feel it."

There was something in his demeanor that unsettled Caius, but he could not pin down what it was. He had no idea where these opinions and thoughts were coming from. The antithetical logic his friend was using was utterly foreign to him. He simply did not understand it.

Marcus walked closer to him, smiled and said, "All right. I have to go back to my regiment—I'm being reassigned. I didn't want to tell you, but they're moving me out of your division. Don't know why—bureaucratic, I guess."

Caius thought that this must be why his friend was acting so weird. He just managed to say, "Oh."

"But it doesn't matter. The war will be over in a few days. Then all of us can go home."

Caius sighed, said, "You're right." He did not like that his friend was leaving, though—he had come to depend on him, and found his support invaluable.

"I'm headed to a different ship—so I suppose I'll have to catch up with you later."

Caius stood up and nodded.

His friend extended his hand and Caius shook it. Marcus said, "See you on the other side, brother."

"Good luck, Marcus," replied Caius.

Marcus Celer then turned and left, walking briskly out of the room. It was the last time Caius would ever see him.

The Exile woke up. He did not jolt awake or fly out of his bunk as many do when waking from such unpleasant dreams; he only slowly became aware of his consciousness. Eventually he sat up and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. The details of the dream then started coming back to him. He remembered being confused at the time why Marcus had seemed so against the Republic. Over time he had determined that it was Revan's influence. A lot of the Jedi began to take a very Sith-like attitude towards the end of the war, under Revan's guidance, and this was the reason they followed him after Malachor.

Marcus had not had the opportunity. When the Mass Shadow Generator had been activated, Marcus's ship—with his new regiment aboard—had been within the event horizon. The ship was crushed, and Caius felt the loss of life through the Force. As with most people he met, Caius had bonded with Marcus. His death, along with the millions of others who perished, had caused him to lose his connection to the Force. Even in death, Marcus had turned Caius away from the Jedi—as he had effectively ceased being a part of the Order that day. He shed his idealistic beliefs as well.

He never really got over the death of his friend, though, and he felt that he was culpable for it, even though Bao-Dur had assured him otherwise. Still, the guilt was there—and it would never go away.

"Morning" came sooner than expected. Since this planet had the same time of day always, it was hard to tell how long the crew had been asleep. Caius, being the first to wake, made his way out of the dorms and into the main hold. He eventually succeeded by Allie. Everyone else woke up at roughly the same time.

Out in the main hold, Caius was talking to Elliott and Allie. He asked, "So what do we do now?"

"We keep trying to fix the ship," said Allie. "Whatever needs doing."

Bastila and Xristos arrived with T3, completing the unofficial crew meeting. There was some idle chatter, and then they all scavenged for some breakfast. Just as they finished eating, Bastila's comm burst to live again. It was broken by static, but they could tell that it was HK speaking. His voice sounded unnaturally hurried, and distressed.

It crackled, and they could only pick out every other word, "-47 reporting. We have…Sith Lord…transmitting emergency coordinates…too late…Dustil…I will kill the meatbags…outnumbered…Master, Dustil has been…." It then broke off.

There was stunned silence. Not one of the crew spoke to each other. The silence continued, and was only broken when HK's recording began playing again, apparently on loop. Still they said nothing. The message was too confusing, and too scary. They listened a second time. Was this true? What would they do?

At long last, someone spoke. And it was what everyone was thinking.

"Damn it," said Elliott.

A/N: So, I think I definitely went too far on the love evaluation. I think there was something like 4,000 words devoted to that part alone. Sorry about that. However, if any of you actually liked it, I have to admit that a good portion of that discussion is not my own analysis. DISCLAIMER: I borrowed about half of that spiel from other sources, namely C.S. Lewis's The Four Loves, Mere Christianity, and several of his personal letters; there are also a few brief homages to John the Evangelist's First Epistle and the Apostle Paul's Letter to the Corinthians. Sorry if any of you are annoyed or put-off by that, but I didn't want to take credit for ideas that are not my own. This is fanfiction, though, so I think that this kind of borrowing should be expected, I hope. So...in conclusion...yeah /long disclaimer rant