A/N: See the end. Hey y'all, I'm back.

23: There's A Clamor In Your Whispering

Revan lay in bed, nearly panting, and it took a moment to recognize the ceiling above her as that of the Foundry.

She pushed herself up onto her elbow, untangling herself from one of Carth's legs, and sat up the rest of the way. She scrubbed at her face. The air of the Foundry, thick and heavy with the Force — neutral or otherwise — pushed down on her, and she grumbled into her hand. She scraped the hair plastered on her forehead back and peeled the sheets away from her sweat-soaked skin.

Visions were the worst.

Carth stirred next to her and she groaned, trying to stealthily lay back down before he caught her.

"You all right?"

Damn it. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"No, you aren't." He rested his hand on her arm as she settled back against the cot and rolled onto his side to face her. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying — fine!" Revan dragged her hand down her face again. "Just a vision! It isn't anything to worry about."

When she looked back over his brow was scrunched over his eyes. "You're sure?"

"It's the Foundry. I hate this place."

"Even with the, uh, energy, um—"

"Yeah. It's…" She sighed. "I find Force nexuses itchy."

"Itchy?"

"That's not the right word, but it's the closest. Like, uh… the Temple on Coruscant. It's built over one, which means it has a similar atmosphere to here — just, light sided — and it always triggers my precog. It's exhausting."

"Hm." He slung his arm over her waist. "How so?"

For a moment, she thought about telling him to mind his own damn business. This wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to explain in the middle of the Foundry's night-cycle. "A lot of people — well, us — can see the future, but it usually takes discipline. A lot of it. And usually only occurs where there's a concentration of Force energy or during very deep meditation. Some of us are unfortunate enough to come by it naturally — unfortunately, in addition to my great array of other talents, I'm one of them. You didn't think I was a good strategist at twenty just because I was smart, right? I cheat."

"I'm… not surprised." She smacked his shoulder. "So it's random for you?"

"Basically. You remember the Jedi Covenant?"

Carth's brows furrowed again. "Those idiots who bombed part of Coruscant during the Wars?"

"Yeah. They were a collection of mostly natural precogs, some disciplined. They actually tried to recruit me before the Mandalorian Wars."

"You didn't go with them?"

"Do I seem like the type to join a cult?"

Carth paused. "The type to make one, maybe."

"That's fair. I, ironically, had a feeling they were into some shady business. And," she laughed, "gods, was I right."

Carth echoed it and tucked her into his chest, and she didn't fight it. "What was this one?"

"They aren't simple." He shrugged, and Revan sighed. "About as clear as ever. A spire above clouds on a world I didn't recognize, a world covered in purple storms. An old Sith temple covered in light. The worst part was…" She rubbed one of her eyes. "My vision started tunneling, like when Vitiate clawed into my head on Tython. I'm certain it's about him, but it's as clear as—"

"The ones you were having."

There was a certain sadness to Carth's voice that made her shake her head. "Yes. But this time it's not possibly a memory. It's a vision, about him most likely, but I don't know about what or when. That's what I hate about this bantha shit. It's practically useless until it happens." She glared up at the ceiling. "And this place is encouraging it. I'm having almost one a week! It's intolerable—"

"Sounds like you filled this week's quota, then." Carth's voice was already thickening further, like he was falling back to sleep, and Revan sighed and shimmied out of his arm. He responded with a disgruntled huff.

"I need to walk." She kissed him gently. "I'll be back."

"Be careful."

She nodded and wrapped her outer robe over her nightshirt — really one of Carth's shirts that she'd borrowed with no intention of returning — and padded into the corridor. As she passed some of the duty stations the night crew nodded to her, but didn't stop her as she headed into the Foundry.

They'd been on the station for nearly a month and a half, now, and she did this often enough that they knew the drill.

She wandered the Foundry halls for a while, checking on the assembly lines (still perfect, as always) and greeting some patrolling, pre-shipment droids, before finding herself in the central control room. T3, who spent most of his time here, chirped a welcome as he watched over the console and sped over to her. As she moved toward the railings, she absentmindedly stroked his top.

Revan stood and watched the rocks drift deeper into the Foundry's core silently, petting T3 and thinking.

The vision had been a bit more detailed than she'd described. She knew enough about Sith archaeology to recognize Great Hyperspace War-era ruins, which probably meant Yavin IV — unless, of course, some other world out there other than Dromund Kaas had ancient Sith temples of a similar provenance. The building over the clouds… she'd seen similar structures at mining settlements on gas giants and on worlds with thick atmospheres. There had been others, just flashes: what she thought was Lehon and the Temple of the Ancients, Corellia, possibly Ilum. The flashes were the worst parts, lasting maybe a second, with just enough time to grab one major detail before they'd flashed away. She rested her head in her hands with a groan.

Precognition was a pain in the ass.

Revan took another loop through the lower factory lines, greeting a few new droids as they were created, and finally made her way back to the Republic's living quarters. As she slipped back inside the darkened commander's quarters, she left her robe slung over a chair and slid back into bed. Carth stirred and rolled onto his back, pulling her in as she settled against his chest, and she closed her eyes as she listened to the heartbeat under her hand. She might lie awake the rest of the night, but…

"I'm glad you're here, flyboy," she murmured.

#

About a week after Revan's last vision, Carth stood in the caf dispenser in the mess, pouring his second cup before having to go on duty. It'd been an early morning — a supply ship had come in overnight and, after they'd overseen the exchange of supplies for completed droids, Revan had taken a suspicious looking box and furtively scurried into the Foundry. He'd gone back to sleep when she hadn't reappeared within fifteen minutes. He'd deal with it in the morning.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he didn't have to ask. "Morning."

"Mornin', flyboy," Revan drawled, tightening her arms. "What'd you do with mine?"

Carth handed her a mug and took a step away. Revan took his place at the dispenser. "How much have you had this morning?"

She held up a finger as she leaned back against the counter. A private nervously nodded and ducked between them with his own mug.

"Just one?" Carth narrowed his eyes. "You're oddly cheery."

"I—"

"Who did you kill, and who do I have to bribe to get you off?"

"Well, normally you don't have to bribe anyone for that."

Carth choked on his caf. The private went bright red, stuttered a very small "excuse me," and scurried away.

"Anna!" Carth hissed. She grinned over the rim of her mug.

"You walked into it."

"That poor kid is gonna have nightmares."

"Yeah, I'll send him a card. Force's sake, Carth, this entire station knows we're sleeping together." She grew serious so quickly he almost got whiplash. "Look, promise to not be mad."

"Oh, no. What did you do?"

"Nothing bad! I just, uh, well…" She glanced away furtively. "Last week, after the vision, I was on the Holonet and checked Searchpet on a whim—"

Carth sighed and scratched the bridge of his nose. "How many gizka did you get?"

"Just one! Just the one, I promise."

"That was the box this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Where is it?"

"Sleeping on your pillow."

"My pillow? Why isn't it sleeping on yours?"

"I don't know, I didn't tell him which one to sleep on."

"What's its name?"

"Mora. It just… didn't feel right, you know? We had X'lor, and then… well…"

Carth sighed again. Gizka lived about ten years, and he'd passed X'lor off to Mission when he'd made his decision. He'd probably lived a good life for the last three or so years he had left.

"Just ask next time?" He shook his head. "I still can't — you and gizka."

"They're adorable. What, because I'm me, I'm not allowed to like that?"

Carth chuckled. "No. Just that, with your issues—"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she retorted with mock defensiveness.

"It feels like you'd go for something bigger. More menacing. Not a gizka."

"Look, I've been bitten by gizka before. They're vicious little bastards when they want to be."

"Yeah, you got bit all the time on the Hawk."

They stared at each other for a few moments, and Revan finally cleared her throat and looked down at her drink. "I'd meant to mention it. Just, you know how I get. I do something, and then a hundred things happen, and the next thing I know it's a week later and I'm getting handed a box from Searchpet and suddenly remembering I hadn't mentioned it to you."

He nodded and kissed her forehead. "I know how you work now. Or, at least, more than most do."

"You're not mad?"

"Not really. Just don't get another one, or the station will get overwhelmed."

"Easy enough." She bounced onto her toes to kiss him. "Thanks, flyboy. We'll be in the Foundry if you need us."

Revan refilled her cup and bounded back out of the mess, lightsabers bouncing off her hips. The few personnel in the mess watched her leave, glanced at him, and he took another sip from his mug.

"Aren't you all going on duty?"

That night, when he returned to their shared quarters, he found Revan sitting on their bed and feeding fruit to a small, red gizka with black spots and a thin black collar. She looked up and grinned as he stopped in the doorway, and he had to admit — it did seem more right.

#

While the Foundry was a military installation, it quickly felt vastly more domestic, for at least three occupants. One month turned into two and a half and, for Carth and Revan, it slowly started to feel a little more like Coruscant after the fall of the Star Forge and Revan's near miss with the Supreme Court (minus a surprise pregnancy, a nosy Jedi Council that only pretended to turn a blind eye to their relationship, and all of their friends). Khemmaa was quick at picking up nearly everything, not unlike her father, and spent a lot of time either learning the higher-level tech or messing around in the Foundry's systems with Revan. Captain Mertz, Carth's second on this rotation of Foundry personnel, expressed disappointment that she'd eventually have to return to Coruscant's Kashyyyk embassy.

"She'd be a good lead tech officer," he'd told Carth.

"I'll pass that on to her father," he'd replied.

That said, it was still a military installation. And the never-ending obligations of military duty saw Carth overseeing a fleet inspection and exercise on his birthday that took up the majority of the day, leaving Revan time to enact her no doubt dastardly and underhanded plans. Or, at least, she suspected the evening personnel watching her steal into the mess thought so.

She put her armful of supplies down by the baker, and Khemmaa handed her a datapad. She studied it as Mora cooed on the floor, butting his head against her leg to demand being picked up.

"Shhh. K, check that cabinet there."

While Revan admitted she had an over-inflated sense of her own self-worth, there was one area she'd never exactly excelled in — really, more like five or six.

The Jedi were not particular about their initiates' domesticity.

It was the only thing she held against Carth's first wife. According to him, Morgana had been her exact opposite in that regard. Whatever similarities their personalities held didn't extend that far and, while she hid it well, it'd been a surprising sore spot for her. Really, she was Revan! She couldn't be good at everything and call it a day? Force, it was frustrating.

But this time, it was foolproof. Khemmaa had suggested it. They'd been back out on the testing floor a couple weeks ago, and she'd commented that it was just like the Republic to mandate a fleet inspection on the commanding officer's birthday, and Khemmaa suggested they do something for it. They'd found a simple recipe, she'd ordered some extra supplies ("No, dear, it's more food for Mora, I don't know what you're insinuating"), and she'd only let herself obsess about it for a couple hours a day until today.

She swept Mora up onto the counter and propped her datapad against the metal backsplash. The gizka cooed and bumped his head into the datapad, and Revan frowned at him.

"Don't you dare. All right, keep an eye out for Mertz. He'll try to drag me out of here if he can."

Khemmaa cocked her head. "Why?"

"I'm pretty sure Carth told him I blew up our kitchen once." The Wookiee laughed, and Revan frowned back at her, far deeper. "It's not funny."

"It is."

"A little."

The first few steps went off without a hitch, and she was feeling pretty confident. Maybe stasis evened out her disastrous homemaking tendencies? It'd be an odd side-effect from the Sith alchemy, but really — who actually knew? She stuck a metal measure back into a canister, perhaps a little eagerly, and a loud ringing noise echoed through the mess accompanied by a series of violent swears in Rodian.

"Gods damn it, Khemmaa. If I find the buir ik'aad gotaan that used the last of this, I swear—" She scrubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of white powder behind it. "Now what do we do?" Khemmaa growled and shrugged. "Don't tell me you don't know!"

Revan sighed and rummaged through cabinets. There was usually a stock of preparation supplies as well as the Republic's usual tasteless nutritional paste that got pumped into the usual tasteless synthesizer, and a healthy stock of ration bars. Khemmaa looked through the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen and they quickly confirmed that the Foundry had run out of flour.

"Khemmaaaaaaaa," Revan said, ignoring the slight whine that entered her voice. "I cannot believe this. All right, we need something we can substitute." She grabbed for her datapad and shooed Mora away from the bowl with the half-made batter. "Now hopefully every site doesn't assume there's a store around the corner."

After about 5 minutes of searching, she gave up.

"All right. So that's a bust. We're just going to… try something." Revan rummaged around again for a different canister she'd spotted, and dumped the last half-cup into the bowl. Mora tried to stick his nose back into it, and she put the measure on his head like a hat. "There."

The gizka responded with an angry coo and glared at her.

The rest of it went well — almost too well, so well that she was waiting for disaster as she slid it into the baker. Khemmaa set the timer and they both sat down with Mora in her lap. Revan navigated to another page on her datapad.

"K, I was hoping to get your opinion on some tank droid models, if you have a moment." The Wookiee nodded and held out her hand.

Only a few minutes before the baker was set to chime, and deep in conversation about tank droids, weaponry, and armor plating, Revan looked up to find Captain Mertz standing in the doorway sniffing.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

Revan dropped her feet off the opposite chair. "Nothing. Why?"

"What? Admiral Onasi told us to keep you from cooking, how did—"

"That schutta. Look, nothing's gone off. The sprinklers aren't even on. It's fine." Mertz looked skeptical as Khemmaa simply nodded her support. "Look, wait a minute and I'll show you."

He did, and the timer dinged. Revan stood and opened it, and pulled it out. "Oh, gods damn it."

Mertz looked over her shoulder, eying the hard, dark thing she'd thought would be a cake.

"I don't get it. I didn't even blow anything up this time."

She must have sounded very forlorn because Mertz bent down and pulled a tub of nutritional paste out of a cabinet. Revan scrunched up her nose.

"I didn't want that."

"All right. Taste that one then." He nodded to the one in her hands as he loaded the paste into the synthesizer. Revan, still skeptical, broke off a piece and tasted it.

"Ugh. Force. Fine! I surrender." Khemmaa took it, did the same, grumbled in Shyriiwook, and threw the rest into the crusher.

"Thank you for not burning down the station, though. I appreciate that."

"Frak you too, Mertz."

###

A/N: Hi everyone! It was never my intention to take a nearly two-year break on this. After some fallout in the KotOR fandom on Tumblr I kind of lost a lot of my drive regarding the CAU, and then you know, as horse eBooks says, "everything happens so much." When you're dealing with fibro, depression, and ADHD, life is hell at the best of times, let alone the worst. So that's when you quit your retail job and try to go into full-time writing/editing, right?

My family thinks I'm insane now, I think.

Right now I'm looking to update every week, goal Thursday, but really any time between Thursday and Sunday. That said, check my profile here or on AO3 for some information on some plans and a way to get access to both the original stuff I'm currently pitching to agents and early chapters for this stuff as I start working my way through my backlog of unfinished fics.

Thanks everyone. I'm glad to be back.