The young man who had once believed himself to be Theron Fel stared with empty eyes at the wall of his cell; gone were the young man's clothes and weaponry, replaced my a simple silver jumpsuit emblazoned with the insignia of the Imperial Remnant. His thumbs ran in circles around each other nervously, the only sign of any action going on in his mind. Not too far away, a group of six watched the young man nervously over holo-camera.

"We have debated for almost three days, and we have yet to reach a consensus on what to do with... him," Master Horn stated with a single eye trained on the hologram of the incredibly powerful Gray Jedi. The woman crossed her arms so that her hands were resting within the other sleeve of her gold and ivory robes.

It was Moff Gann who replied next. "That is because none neither of you will accept the truth," he responded. He looked at his would-be murderer over the holo, then returned his attention to the other members of the triumvirate. Beside the three stood their chosen ambassadors to the Gray Jedi. Moff Gann continued as soon as his eyes passed over those of every other person in the room. "This... boy is dangerous to everything we have set up. Everything we would achieve. But that does not make him useless to us."

"Perhaps," Horn said. "He wishes to make up for his... mistakes. But we cannot allow him the freedom he was given."

"I disagree," Gann retorted. He clasped his hands at the small of his back and stared into Horn's eyes. "He and the rest of the crew had many successes, and their freedom to operate was – I believe – a central cause for those victories."

Chancellor Soon snorted derisively. "The fact that either of want to use this... this... terrorist, in any capacity, is beyond me," the Sullustan said. He gestured with one hand at the holo. "Even if he had not attempted to kill Grand Moff Gann, even if he had not succeeded in murdering dozens of Imperial soldiers and two Imperial Knights, even if he had not severely injured all five of you, look at him. He is broken – destroyed utterly by what we have told him. I doubt the boy will be anywhere near ready anytime soon for release. His imbalance could lead the Sith to control him. Is that what we want?"

"As I said, the fail-safes we have implemented are more than enough to keep him in line. And he did not want to kill my daughter, even when he wanted to hurt me. This was about justice – he just took it to the edge of revenge without any knowledge of the truth," Moff Gann responded. He looked at his daughter, who stood at his shoulder. She was staring, unblinking, at the broken young man on the holo. Her posture, even in her gleaming Imperial armor, was one of defeat and pain. Gann reached one hand out to comfort his daughter, but she pulled away even as his hand neared her; he, feeling painfully incapable of helping her, let it fall to his side.

"You can't be serious!" Soon said. He laughed a single, dry laugh. "I will not stand for this... murderer running around Alliance space, regardless of his feelings for your daughter!"

Gann opened his mouth to shout at the Alliance leader, but was cut off by Horn before even the first syllable left his lips. "Enough, we do little to come to a decision or to deal with the growing threat of Darth Nihl's Sith by arguing amongst ourselves," she said calmly, with one hand in the air. "It seems that we cannot come to a true majority agreement. I suggest that those who spent the most time with... the young man, be the ones who decide his fate in this regard."

Ana's gaze turned immediately from the holo to Horn's face. "What?"

Van seemed to share a similar view. "Y-you want us to... decide what you do with him?"

"Yes," Master Horn said simply. She looked over at the pilot with a lazy, almost disinterested gaze.

"It seems the best idea," Gann agreed.

Soon's eyes narrowed. "It would appear I have been outvoted in this decision. Though I fear I already know what decision his friends will make."

Horn scoffed and shook her head. "Indeed? Well, then I suppose we should see that outcome."

The room was quiet for some time. No one was entirely sure what to do, or how to respond. Finally, Van was the one to break the itchy silence. "We let him go – with restrictions. Someone else controls the mask, we report in constantly. A more professional distance between him and us will be maintained."

Ana shook her head, but no one noticed. Rhen was the next to respond, and that response was not the one expected: "Leave him in there."

Ana cried out in horror. "How can you say that! He – He's your best friend!"

"But I'm a Jedi first," the twi'lek said coolly. "As a Jedi, it's my duty to protect life. If Ther – If he was free, I believe that would only lead to more deaths. More pain, more Darkness." His gaze met Ana's, and sparks of rage flew from her eyes to his.

"That's terrible! He never tried to hurt you – he just ignored us. Gann was right: this was about justice, not pain!" Ana shouted.

"He tried to kill your father! Why aren't you the angriest person here!? Why aren't you advocating for imprisoning him?" Rhen retorted.

"Yes... tell us what you think we should do, Knight Gann?" Horn asked, the last word rolling off her tongue, seeking to imbalance the young woman.

Ana's jaw curved into a growling grimace. She opened her mouth to shout, then thought better of what she was going to say. She closed her mouth and crossed her arms; she began to consider the situation. Finally, she took the only route by which Theron – for, indeed, that was all she had ever known him as – would be saved. "I am of a mind with Van," she said finally. "Restrictions of some sort must be put in place. I'm not sure what... but professionalism won't be maintained. You cannot live with someone – bleed by their side – and not expect friendships to grow."

"Friendships? Or perhaps you are hoping for something more, hm? I see the way you stare at him, like a youngling girl infatuated with a boy. A schoolyard crush, as it were. Ha – are you sure that your decisions have not been compromised?" Soon asked cruelly.

Ana sneered in disgust. "And you love power – like any damn politician!" Ana growled. She twitched in rage and took a threatening step towards the chancellor. "How do we know your greed hasn't compromised you?"

The chancellor stared at Ana for a moment. "She has fire, like her father... the decision has been made. I hope we live to not regret it."

"Indeed," Horn agreed. She uncrossed her arms. "The orders to release him shall be processed soon. You four will report to the Eagle in three standard days. Your orders will be in place there – expect nothing less than what you have seen so far. More, I would expect."

"We'll handle it," Ana replied coolly.

"We know," her father said, his voice hollow. "Or you'll die trying."

SWSWSWSWSW

The young man couldn't call himself Theron... not anymore. He had seen the boy in the casket. He had seen through the haze of the lies he had been living in for so long. Theron had died ten years prior at the hands of... Sith, probably. The memories of another life – the Empress and the Palace – had already been explained away: the young man's fractured mind had pieced the images together in a weak attempt to secure his tenuous grip on reality. The "memories" of Theron's life were hallucinations, misconceptions brought on by a fevered mind. The "Voice of Revan?" Another conjuring up of the young man's psychotic break. He had no name, anymore.

Theron... Just – Theron, the voice in his head began, empathy running through every syllable. The young man forced "Revan" from his mind, struggling to overcome his broken psyche. The young man laughed to himself as an idea came to him.

Why not? It's got a certain irony to it, the young man thought. He nodded to himself. Revan was his name, he supposed.

Revan chuckled to himself, and returned his attention to the locker in front of him. His jacket and usual clothes were folded next to some new clothes the triumvirate had supplied to the ship. Revan picked up the jacket for a moment and stared at the black cloth in disgust as the memories of what he had done flooded back. With a jolt of fear, he tossed the jacket back into the locker and he pulled the other clothes from the metal box and slid them on.

He stood in front of a holographic reflection, surveying the clothes that covered his body. Revan sighed as he looked at the gray denim vest that hung open over a white, hooded shirt that left little extra cloth to be taken advantage of by his enemies. His black pants were adorned with a simple red strip down the outer sides and were tucked into black combat boots. He found he was unable to meet his own eyes.

"You okay?" Ana asked from behind Revan. He turned to see her staring at him from the doorway. She studied his new look for a moment. "I prefer the classic."

Revan looked at her, dressed in her casual clothes, her red Jacket hanging loose over her gray blouse. "I prefer your armor to this" he said, a half-hearted attempt to crack a joke. Ana laughed to make him feel better, and he knew it. "I thought it was time for a change. A different man, a different past, a different look."

"You're the same person, Theron," Ana said.

"Don't call me that! That's not my name!" he snapped. Ana didn't flinch, and her eyes pierced into Revan's soul. "I – I'm sorry. It's just... Theron, the real Theron, died years ago. It would be wrong to take his name."

"So what should we call you?" Ana asked.

"Revan," he said, the name rolling off his tongue as if by fate's decree. The feel of it, the tangible reality of it, made his choice seem even more right in his heart.

"If that's what you really want," Ana responded. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway of the cargo hold. "Are you... okay?"

Revan considered the question carefully. "Not... No," he said with a tone of voice that said he wasn't ready to elaborate. He changed the topic suddenly. "Why didn't you tell us about your dad? When I asked you about your parents, you just..." He shrugged.

Ana laughed slightly. "Yeah, I don't... I don't like 'Dad.'"

"Why?" Revan asked.

She scoffed in reply. "Well there's a reason that nobody knows the great Moff Gann has a child," she said. "I'm illegitimate. Mom was... of less than reputable status. I didn't even know that Gann was my father until about ten years ago, when I was being chosen for a Knight's apprenticeship. The others around me knew before I did – said I was getting special treatment being chosen first. They couldn't accept that I was – am – the best. Anyways, it turned out Gann had been keeping Mom and me fed and safe my entire life. Just never decided to know me until I was the most promising Imperial Knight in the galaxy."

"Ah... I – I'm sorry," Revan replied. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I didn't... I'm sorry."

Ana pushed off from the doorway and shrugged. "It's not like you're the problem. He's just..."

"No, I'm... sorry I tried to kill him. You may not like him, but he's your father. I doubt you completely hate him," Revan explained. Ana watched with surprise filled eyes as Revan walked past her and out of the cargo hold. "You coming?"

Revan glanced nervously between Rhen and Van while in the main room of the ship. "I'm – I'm sorry," he said lamely. He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously awaiting a response. None came. "Say something. Please."

"Anyways," Rhen said, his voice even, despite the emotions that most likely ran through his mind, "the first location we are being sent is Endor. There is substantial concern amongst the Jedi that the remains of Darth Vader's armor will be sought out by the Sith. The Dark Side aura that the armor contained was most likely significant, and we need to either capture the remains of the armor before the Sith do. Or, failing that, neutralize the Dark Side aura by completely obliterating the armor."

Revan nodded. "Okay. Let's get going," he said quietly. He looked between Rhen and Van once more, then sighed and walked away. "I'll be in the sleeping quarters if you need me."

Rhen watched his one-time friend leave the main hold of the ship. "He needs our support, Rhen," Ana explained as soon as Revan was out of earshot. "Not our disappointment. He came back."

"Did he? Would being 'friends' again save him from the taint of the Dark Side now ever present in his soul?" Rhen inquired. "Or would that just make us emotionally compromised? We did not act on the clear warnings last time – we didn't want to believe he would Fall like that. I will not risk that again."

Van sighed and shook his head. "Look, he's..." he began. When Ana turned to him, he shrugged and shook his head. "Theron –"

"It's Revan now. He feels so bad he won't even use his name," Ana interjected with disgust. She shook her head and walked from the room. "Wake me when we get there."

SWSWSWSWSW

Revan stood before the aliens with his grip on his now red saber so tight his knuckles burned white beneath his gloves. His overcoat quivered violently with the rage running through his body. "You are the Revan," the leader of the beings said. It stared at him with rage-filled eye stalks that stuck out from either side of its huge head. Sharp teeth clacked in its alien language that, somehow, Revan could understand.

"I am Darth Revan. And you are the Rakata. It has been millenia since your presence in this galaxy has been felt," Revan replied. He made no movements against the Rakata leader, but neither did he make a move to allow the Rakata space to advance. "Yet here you are. Not dead."

The leader of the amphibious aliens growled with humor at the young human before him. "Death does not stop the conquest of an Empire endless and Infinite."

"Is that what you believe? Your empire is far from Infinite. And I doubt it will return to such a status," Revan mocked, laughter running through his voice. The Rakata snarled in response and a few even drew blasters and Force-sabers. "Your empire will not rise again – not while mine is fated to take control of the galaxy."

The Rakata leader laughed, a noise crossed between a string of hiccups and coughs. "Slave-born empires have not survived so far," the Rakata leader taunted.

"Neither have Rakatan ones – in fact, the Republic lasted longer than your Infinity, hm?" Revan shot back. He leveled his saber at the throat of the Rakatan leader. "And so will my Empire." The red blade of plasma ran through the Rakatan general, and the dream faded to black.

Revan shot up panting in a cold sweat. He ran one hand through his hair, struggling to calm his nerves. He sighed shakily and felt the air tremor with his fear. Stop trying to steal my name! The voice in Revan's head demanded. Even in your visions, Theron? Really?

Revan clutched at his own shoulders to try and steady himself. The voice said it was a vision, which, in a way, comforted Revan. His own fractured, lying psyche was trying to convince him it was the future, but that could only prove to Revan that the dream was not of the future. It was not of his fate. Right? He asked himself. The image of his red saber and the demonic creatures he had killed shot through his mind, suddenly so real. He shook his head and laid back down, drifting lazily into sleep once again.