Meetra watches as a compact, wickedly armed transport touches down in the Trayus Academy hangar bay. It has military style markings that prompt her to wonder how a civilian administrator type like Tony got his hands on it. But maybe when you're in good standing with your Emperor and besties with the sole surviving member of the Dark Council, you get cool perks like this ship.
Already, the diminished dyad connection is rekindling. Meetra hasn't yet laid eyes on Darth Sion, but she can sense him. When the transport's ramp deploys, Tony appears at the top. Straightaway, she notices that he has his helmet and gloves on, but he's not dressed in his usual armor. He's wearing a loose black tunic and pants like he wore when masquerading as his own jailor. He marches slowly and stiffly down to the ground. His movements confirm what the rapidly reawakening bond is telling her: the Lord of Pain is hurting terribly.
Meetra frowns and shifts her weight uncomfortably. Even the secondary sensation of his pain is unpleasant. As the bond steadily continues to bloom, the nagging sensation sharpens. She winces.
"You're bad . . . why are you this bad?" she mutters aloud as her pretend husband lumbers up. Tony has come from gorging himself on the Emperor's purge of the Sith Army command ranks. He should have had his fill of pain to bolster his body. Why is he in this condition?
Disapproving Tony looks her up and down before he dispenses with the pleasantries. "This is the last place I expected to find you. Tell me you're not with—"
"No. I'm just here for fuel and supplies."
"You couldn't do that on Drumond Kaas?"
"I had to leave."
"Why?" he demands.
Seriously? Are they really going to play these games? Irritated, Meetra peers indignantly up into the vacant eyes of Tony's mask. "You know why." She looks away and fumes. "How did you find me?"
"The same way I found you the first time. You can run, but you cannot hide. The Force will not allow it!" he hisses. "You were foolish to believe otherwise!"
Tony is in pain to a degree he hasn't been for a long time and it's making him uncharacteristically short tempered. He's also afraid, so afraid, the bond conveys to Meetra. She's not sure what to make of it. But as usual, his emotions bleeding across the bond into her mind serve to amp up the intensity of Meetra's own feelings. It makes the situation all the more volatile.
"Well, come on. Get in the shuttle. Let's take off," Tony orders brusquely. He starts trudging towards the ramp of his personal craft she arrived on. His left shoulder droops low and his right hip drags. Meetra knows that posture for a sign that his original wounds have become infected again.
He keeps walking but she stands her ground.
Tony finally stops and turns around. "Let's go."
"There isn't enough fuel to make it home." The red shuttle hasn't been refueled yet.
"Fine. We'll stop along the way. There's a military supply depot two systems away. I was just there—"
"No."
"No?" Tony echoes, as if perhaps he has misheard.
"No," she repeats firmly. It comes out like a growl.
"Why not?"
"I'm not coming home with you."
"Meetra, get in the shuttle. Get in the shuttle now," Tony commands, sounding more weary than upset. "You can tell me all the reasons you're angry once we're in hyperspace. It's a long flight and I'm your captive audience. We can fight it out for as long as you like."
Meetra shakes her head no. She's not getting on that shuttle. She's done playacting as Lady Sion.
Tony must sense her resolve through the bond. By now, he knows her well enough to take seriously her opinions. So, when he tries again, his approach is less dictatorial and more placating.
Extending a gloved hand her direction, Tony invites, "Come yell at me to clear the air, and then heal me. Your healing might do us both some good. This place . . . " Tony gestures around them and it's not clear if he refers to the Trayus Academy, the remains of Malachor V, or both. "This place can't be good for you. Let's go." Again, he beckons, "Come away with me. I don't want this for you."
They are at an impasse. And now, Meetra finds herself forced to have the breakup fight she was hoping to avoid. How does this work exactly? She's uncertain. She's never been in a relationship that felt this precariously close to an attachment.
Flustered, she resorts to cruel bluntness with a series of rapidfire statements. "We're through. It's over for us. You can go home, but I'm not coming. Leave me your ship and you take the shuttle." Meetra has memorized the location and route to Revan's prison. She doesn't need the shuttle data to get there. And actually, the military transport Tony arrived on might be a stealthy upgrade for when it comes time to infiltrate Revan's prison.
Tony digests her words. She watches as his chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh. Then, he plods back towards her, speaking as he advances. "I get it—you're upset. I have angered and disappointed you. But you don't get to leave me. As long as we are married by the Force—"
"It was a fake marriage!" she all but shrieks.
He disagrees. "There is nothing fake about our dyad. 'Til death do us part, Lady Sion," he informs her grimly. "Now, get in the shuttle!" For the first time, normally calm and controlled Tony raises his voice to her.
"Stop with the marriage bullshit because your commitments are a lie!" she hollers. "You said we needed to stay together, but at the very moment when we needed to be united—when it was finally time to achieve your revenge—you faltered! Cornelius Caesar got cold feet and you turned coward! You failed me!" Meetra accuses hotly. As usual, her Jedi calm deserts her when it comes to an argument. She's long been a screamer, and she doesn't care how it looks.
"I wasn't going to oppose him."
"You should have!"
"He is the only family I have left. He's like a brother to me. I value him! I love him!"
"More than killing Vitiate?"
"Yes!"
Tony is standing across from her again, looming over her. And geez, she can smell the decay on him. That hasn't occurred in months. It's yet another indication of how zombie he has become in the week since the throne room showdown.
"I love him more than killing Vitiate, like I love you more than killing Vitiate."
She rolls her eyes. "Don't start in on that—"
"I love you! I don't care that you don't want to hear it because I'm going to say it. I love you, Meetra Surik. I love you as you are, baggage and all, and I accept you for who you are and what you've done. And that," Tony jeers nastily, "is more than you can say for yourself." Looking around, he grouses, "You should never have come here. This place haunts you enough already."
Meetra pointedly ignores his love talk. She won't go there. "Why are you this bad? Shouldn't you be healed?" She's confused. "I felt you torturing . . . you loved it . . ."
"Pain still heals me, but not the same way you do. It's fleeting now . . . far more fleeting than it used to be . . . the Dark Side just doesn't satisfy my body lately. I don't know why." His eyes glare at her from beneath the helmet. Meetra represses the urge to squirm. "It's been this way—and steadily getting worse—ever since you came into my life. I don't know . . . maybe the Force wants me to heal through you now and not through Darkness . . . maybe it wants us to use the dyad it gave us . . ."
There Tony goes rhapsodizing over the dyad again . . . It's very him. How this man loves his Force. Soon, he'll be invoking destiny, cynical Meetra suspects. Sith Lords are fools for destiny. However, in Darth Sion's case, apparently it's all talk.
So, she preempts him. "Take off the mask."
Tony declines. "It's best this way for now. After you heal me a little—"
"Take it off. Let me see." His evasion amps up her concern. "How bad are you?"
"Do you really want to know?"
She's seen him bad before. "Just take it off."
"As you wish."
Tony reaches up to remove his headgear and instantly Meetra is sorry she insisted he do so.
"Ugh!" She recoils and quickly looks away. "Oh, for Force sake . . . that's gross . . ."
Tony's one remaining yellow eye blinks at her with silent 'I told you so' recrimination. He is hurt by her reaction, and defensive as always about his appearance. "Are you happy now?" he whispers through split and rotting lips that show an unnatural amount of bony teeth.
"You know I'm not!" Since when is she the bad guy here? Glancing again at the horrific sight that is his ruined face and bleeding bald head, she moans, "Oh, Tony . . ." She doesn't want to see him like this.
Meetra is red faced and shamed now as she stares at the ground. As always, Darth Sion's extreme physical suffering arouses compassion in her. For as much as the man's Darkness disgusts her, his plight moves her to pity. It's more of the push-pull tension of the dyad. Tony attracts as much as he repels—both physically and metaphysically. She hates to see him like this and feels responsible, even though she isn't. It's because she knows she has the power to remedy the situation.
Miserable Tony complains, "I worry Vitiate saw our combined power for what it is, and now he's trying to separate us. Maybe he knew seeing me torture would give you a disgust of me—"
"That's nothing new," she interrupts. "And Vitiate isn't separating us—you are by siding with Azamin!" Uncomfortable Meetra looks around at the shuttle, at Tony's transport, at Bao's droid . . . at anything but the macabre visage of Darth Sion that drips yellow puss and weeps blood. He's absolutely hideous currently, and it scares her. But it doesn't shake her resolve.
"Look, it doesn't matter now. We lost our best chance. I guess we had different priorities because I," she spits out resentfully, "am not ruled by attachments like you are!"
With a week's distance from the events of the throne room, Meetra can see now that it was a moment of perfect clarity. In that awful setting, Tony revealed his true priorities and, in turn, she understood better her own purpose. She knows now what she has to do: to leave behind the Sith and their game of thrones—she never wanted to get dragged into their power plays in the first place. Killing Vitiate—thwarting Lacerate—putting Azamin on the Dark throne—it was all a distraction from her true goal of saving Revan. Meetra lost her focus when she accepted Tony's help. She ended up on a detour that led her to the Imperial Palace and then to the crucible of a long simmering political struggle that she really didn't support. Kreia is right to wash her hands of the Sith Empire, Meetra thinks. She now wants a clean break from the messy Dark Side herself.
Meetra takes a deep breath and tells Tony, "I'm sorry, but this alliance is over. It's time to go our separate ways." Again, she refuses to meet Tony's pleading gaze, muttering, "It was never going to work out . . . I think we both know that . . ." A Sith Lord and a Jedi? They never stood a chance even if they had wanted the same things, which they clearly do not.
Tony takes issue with her semantics. "This is not merely an alliance. We are a Force-given dyad."
"Right, but just because we're a dyad doesn't mean we need to be together," Meetra contends.
"You're leaving me? You really want to leave me?" Tony seems as befuddled as he is alarmed by the rejection. "After all we have done together and been to each other?"
"Yes." Hasn't she made that clear already by her words and her actions?
"But I need you," Tony outright whines as the fear she sensed initially starts rising through the bond. "You know that I need you."
Maybe she's a cold bitch for saying so, but Meetra shrugs him off. "Go back to your old ways . . ."
"You mean the torture you fault me for? The torture that doesn't work well anymore?"
"That's your problem!"
"The FUCK it is!" Tony swears—a vulgarity that this gentleman Sith Lord never does. But the words are born of his rising panic as he abruptly casts aside his helmet. His gloved hands reach for her. With manhandling that speaks more to his desperation than anything else, he shakes her shoulders hard and then buries his fingers into the roots of her hair. Tilting her head back, he gets in her face, forcing her to confront his repulsive appearance and to breath in his putrid decay. "Heal me . . . You must heal me . . ." he commands. "I can accept that your repression means you can never love me, but you will heal me at least! I need your help!"
"Let go!" She closes her eyes and squirms. For Tony's touch fully reawakens the bond and she feels everything he does in the moment.
"Do you feel my pain? That's the dyad! We are bonded forever! My pain will haunt you always! So, heal me and we will both feel better!"
"Let go!" she thrashes some more.
But Tony's monstrous visage remains inches from her face. "Show me the mercy you owe me as a Jedi! Give me the kindness I deserve as your husband! Be the Light you pretend to serve!"
"Alright." Meetra caves with a resigned whisper. It's for him but also for herself. For in the moment, dulling his agony feels like self-preservation. She can't withstand Tony's suffering for much longer even secondhand. She doesn't have the inhuman pain tolerance rotting Darth Sion has developed over two centuries of suffering.
"Goood. Goooooood." Tony sighs and his body shudders when Meetra begins to summon the Light Side's healing power. The man groans his relief, and his tight grip relaxes. He shifts to clasp her to his chest in the standing embrace he likes when she heals him.
Meetra wonders now whether the dyad bond has effectively made her Tony's prisoner. They began things with her a captive in a cell. But as events have progressed between them, she worries she's more trapped than ever if the Force will enable Tony to find her anywhere. Will she ever escape the zombie Sith who says he loves her? Can there be a clean break for a dyad? And if so, does that mean she won't have the ability to tap into Tony's Force like she does now? This all started when he promised to help her regain the Force.
"Keep going. Don't stop," he pants from above her ears. Tony's loving this. It's just what he needs. His physical and emotional relief floods her mind. "Don't stop until I tell you."
"Oh, no—" She's not letting this healing session go too far. It will deplete her physically and, more importantly, lessen her resolve. For as always, Force healing feels good on her end. Ironically, Meetra feels her most pure—her most Light and her most self-sacrificing Jedi—when she heals the Dark Side dependent Sith Lord Darth Sion. There's just something so reaffirming to her soul about helping. Damn the dyad, it's insidious. She hates Tony's Darkness—the passion that fuels his power and motivates his decisions. But she's self-aware enough to know that his Darkness helps to make her feel Light by comparison. Their pairing is all about their contrasts. Opposites attract when it comes to the Force's archetypes.
He needs her, and maybe in some respects Meetra can admit that she also needs him. Their relationship has always been a quid pro quo at a fundamental level. She was fine with that until Sith politics and Tony's love declarations muddied things and raised the stakes.
"Don't stop . . ."
By now, the dimmed bond has flared to full transparency. Meetra knows just what Tony is thinking. He wants her to keep healing until she is overcome like she was once when she healed him too fast and too long. When she passes out, he will snatch her away and take her home and they will be together happily ever after like before. She will heal him every day and they will make love every night and it will be a heady mix of sex and the Force on the far side of the Empire where no one will care. She'll be safely anonymous as Lady Sion, and he'll be back ruling his system. It will be perfect. She might be everything he needs to be content again, so who cares about regime change? They will have each other. So even if he has to lock her away again until she relents from her commitment issues, he will do it. She'll be angry, but not too angry because she secretly likes him Dark so long as he's not too Dark . . .
What the Hell? Meetra doesn't want to know more. "That's enough!" She gives Tony a hard shove back to disentangle herself. She can't think straight when they are touching and their minds are one.
Tony accepts the rebuff. "Thanks. I really needed that. I need more, but that will do for now."
It's clear that brief interlude has improved him considerably. And that improves how she feels as well. But Meetra draws a line there. "That's all you get, asshole! Look, I'm sorry you're like this, but it's not my fault."
"I'm not like this so long as you're in my life," he points out.
"Yeah, well, it's over. I'm not your little wifey. This was always pretend." He keeps forgetting that and trying to make it a real marriage. That's partly her fault, Meetra realizes. She never should have gone to bed with Tony. Sure, sex is fun, but she knew all along that he couldn't keep it casual. Tony is the marrying type that wants to love you forever whether you want it or not.
She glares up at him, noting the immediate improvement in his still gruesome face. But then, she blinks and frowns. "Wait—are you okay?"
"Not if you keep talking like that."
"You uh . . ."
"What?"
"You uh . . . Well, never mind."
Her mind must be playing tricks on her or maybe she's too stressed out or too tired or too something. Because for a second there, her vision went fuzzy. Tony almost seemed to flicker in and out of focus before her eyes.
She rubs at her temples and frowns.
Emboldened by her willingness to heal him, Tony continues to press his case. "Come home. Leave this depressing place. Leave these toxic people. There's nothing for you here. Stop fighting old battles—"
"You of all people shouldn't lecture me on that topic! You've been driven by revenge for the past all along! Until you weren't . . ." And maybe that's not entirely fair, because Tony has a lot of laudable goals for his people that he once hoped to achieve by deposing Vitiate.
"I was driven by revenge, that's true. But that only lasted until I found myself forced to choose between Cornelius' life and my revenge. If the choice is family or revenge, I choose family." Tony wrinkles his brow at her and it's a bizarre sight given his one empty eye socket. "I was always a family man . . . "
He's right. "I know."
Tony never set out to be the zombie Sith Lord who lusted for power to unseat his Emperor. He wanted to be a regular guy with no particular ambitions beyond a comfortable life and a respectable career. When Vitiate called him initially average in the throne room, Meetra knows he was right. But one day, Tony tapped into depths of Darkness he didn't know he had when tragedy struck. It's how he has managed to cheat death for centuries now. But it's a coping skill for what he truly desires: a second chance to live the wholly conventional humdrum family man life he lost.
"I could never kill Cornelius. Some people are sacred for me. My family is sacred to me."
"I know." This is Tony being his authentic self—a highly principled man, even if he is a Shadow Force adherent.
"If the choice is family or revenge, I choose family," he repeats himself. It comes out like a manifesto of attachment.
Meetra just blinks blankly at him. As a Jedi, she can't relate to the traditional concept of family. In the Order, the Crusaders were the closest thing she had to family, and those ties arose from mutual goals and ideals, not blood. Family for the Jedi was about shared purpose, never genetics.
Tony takes it all a step further now, rumbling softly, "And if the choice is love or revenge, I choose love." He's looking at her hopefully.
Meetra turns her head. "Don't start in on that again—"
He overrides her. "I choose us! Meetra, we can be happy—we can be together—out in the open back home. Think about it! General Surik is officially dead. I'm a hero and after what happened with Lacerate, I'm in favor with the Emperor. Let's be content with that and go home and be happy—"
"Oh, come on!" She calls him out for his gauzy rose-tinged fantasy. "You're a longtime malcontent. But now, suddenly you're going to be happy with Vitiate's rule?"
"I may be able to influence him for the better. Don't forget that Cornelius is on the Council. Perhaps we can foster change from within the regime . . ."
"Do you hear yourself?" she jeers, feeling annoyed by Tony's newfound foolhardy optimism. "You've convinced yourself to accept the Emperor's tyranny that you plotted for so long to oppose—"
He bristles at her tone. "I don't want to be Dark Lord. Neither does Cornelius. All the other choices are a step down from Vitiate."
"There's Revan."
That suggestion falls as flat as she fears. Tony says nothing, and that silence speaks volumes.
Meetra fumes. "So, you're just going to accept Vitiate now by default?"
"Yes. It's basically how I've lived my whole life anyway," Tony reasons.
"I don't believe what I'm hearing . . ." she sputters. "You were one of the few with the courage to take action and the power to do it . . . but now you're just giving up?"
Tony takes a deep breath before he slowly answers. "What I have wanted all these years—more than anything else—is to be healthy and to be happy. You can give me both of those things. I don't need ultimate power to be happy. And I could never be happy if that power—if my revenge—came at the cost of Cornelius."
"Well, this change of heart comes at the cost of me!" she huffs.
Tony face falls. He's hurt. "You really want me Dark, don't you . . ."
"Of course, not!" She hates him Dark and torturing. Hasn't he been listening? "I hate the Dark Side. It's why I am through with you and the rest of the Sith!"
"I'm not enough. You'll settle for me only if you get your revenge through me—"
"It's justice! Deposing Vitiate is justice!" she shrieks back at him.
"Cease your sanctimony, my Lady, because I see through your rhetoric!" Tony retorts. "You want me Dark, and you want to disdain the Dark. You can't have it both ways, Jedi!"
Meetra throws up her hands. "Why are we even having this conversation? You're not listening, and we will never agree."
"You work at cross purposes to your own happiness . . . thrusting away what you need for fear of getting it. Stop being afraid. Meetra, let go of the Jedi Code—"
"Don't patronize me! Just because I don't want to be your little wifey—"
"I never tried to change who you are! I only tried to find a way for you to be yourself within the context of the Empire we live in. And that was mostly to keep you safe. I wasn't trying to limit you, I was trying to hide you."
"Whatever . . . It doesn't matter now." She crosses her arms and lifts her chin. Meetra is unwilling to argue further about the details of their relationship when there is a fundamental disconnect between their expectations. "We want different things, Tony."
"Not really. We both want peace for the galaxy."
"I'm not talking about politics."
"Alright, then. We both want to move on from our painful past. To find closure and maybe some redemption—"
"That's not it!"
"Then what's the problem? Because you don't have to love me. You just need to let me love you," he grumbles. "Can you do that?"
"I don't want to do that."
Her words are snappish and, in turn, Tony appears crestfallen. But he gamely tries to change her mind. "I can't be the man I once was, and I will never get Cornelia and the children back. I can accept that. But that doesn't mean I can't have a happy life with you by my side going forward." He shoots her a reproachful look. "It's a good offer. I will treat you well and make you happy. I won't limit you, I promise. You will have complete freedom to do as you wish."
"This was not our deal!" she gripes back. "I didn't sign up to be your nursemaid wife in exchange for security. We were supposed to use our combined strength to change the Empire!" They were supposed to be heroes together.
Tony doesn't disagree. He simply responds, "Circumstances have changed."
She nods. "That's my point. I want out."
Tony sighs and deflates a bit more. Abruptly, he walks a few paces away before he whirls to accuse, "This is about Revan, isn't it?"
Meetra doesn't deny it. "Yes. In part. You're not going to rescue him now, are you?"
Tony looks away and twists his mangled jaw. "The time isn't right."
"The time will never be right with Vitiate on the throne," Meetra appraises sadly. Her voice chokes up. Revan is a topic she can't speak about with objective detachment. She's far too emotionally invested. "You will never rescue Revan because it will start a civil war that will put you opposite Cornelius Caesar who will support the Emperor."
"Correct," Tony admits grimly. His one good eye stares her down as he adds, "I have my own self to think of, too. I won't rescue Revan so you can leave me for him."
"He's married. He's not available."
"That won't stop you and we both know it," Tony informs her bitterly. "Marriage doesn't matter to you the way it does to the rest of us. You don't respect attachments, legal or otherwise."
His tone stings. She yelps, "Our marriage is fake!"
"Once he's sprung from jail, you'll be plotting his big comeback. Here comes Revan with his best general back again to take on the Empire," Tony grimly predicts. "Will he be Darth Revan again or just Revan this time? Will he fight for the Dark throne or for the Republic? Either way, you'll have all the inside knowledge now to advise him well on how to conquer us."
"You once said he might be the Sith'ari."
"He might."
"You said you wanted to help him to achieve his destiny."
"Right now, I want to help myself more." Tony gestures to his face. "Look at me—look at my suffering—and tell me I haven't earned a little happiness in my life!"
"Right." Her lips settle into a firm line as she informs him, "Well, that's not what I signed up for. I need a purpose, not a husband."
"Is that code for saying you need Revan? Because all along you have loved Revan. No, don't deny it! Even Cornelius saw it! I never had a chance with you, did I?" Tony's whining again. "The Force makes us a dyad, and I'm still not good enough for you . . . It's mostly because I'm a monster, I know . . ."
This is devolving fast into a pathetic, embarrassing scene. Darth Sion looks and sounds so vulnerable now. He's the furthest thing from the threatening Sith Lord he takes pains to project. Meetra doesn't like it.
Trying to strike a conciliatory note while still sticking to her position, Meetra begins, "You're a good man, Tony. Far better than I deserve. No matter what you look like, you could never be a monster. But it will never work between us."
"Because I'm not Revan," he finishes glumly.
She corrects him. "Because you're not the hero I'm looking for."
Tony was supposed to be the hero of the Dark Side, the Sith Lord who uses his evil Darkness for good. Sure, he's seeking revenge, but it's a revenge that betters everyone, so it's not self-serving. At least, not wholly . . . And because Tony is so fiercely—so Darkly—determined to liberate his people, he's supposed to step up to take the role of Dark Lord that he doesn't want. If along the way that means sacrificing someone like his obstructionist brother-in-law, so be it. Because visionary leaders focus on the big picture. They don't allow their personal feelings and attachments to impede them. She certainly didn't at Malachor, and she was a Jedi back then.
Tony's a fucking Sith Lord, and a credible rival to Darth Vitiate. He's supposed to lust for power and scheme for dominance. And that's okay because he's the good sort of Sith who wants to unseat the reigning tyrant, moderate the Empire, and make peace with the Republic. He's Dark mostly in the sense the Crusaders like herself were Dark. Well, except for the torture part . . . None of the Crusaders were gleeful sadists.
Tony was, until he wasn't. For Darth Sion has suddenly gone soft on her. Instead of vengeful glory, he wants domestic bliss on his backwater system and wholesome family chumminess with his bestie Azamin. Meetra didn't really see this coming. She is dismayed and confused, and increasingly angry because she feels misled.
For his part, Tony feels the same way. He lashes out. "The Jedi Order ruined you! They warped your mind and made you cold! What kind of compassion abandons people? What kind of creed forbids love and commitment? What religion prioritizes politics over people?"
"They threw me out, I didn't quit," she reminds him. Bashing the Order isn't exactly a winning strategy with her.
But Tony doubles down on it anyway. "You should have quit! Are you really going to let their ideology come between you and happiness? After the way they treated you? Do their ideals still mean that much?"
Yes. Defensive Meetra starts to sputter out the truth. "I want to be Light. Wholly Light again. I will be better this time," she verbalizes her regret and shame. "I will learn from my mistakes."
"They will never take you back."
"I can try to get them to—"
"They will never take you back! If you return with Revan, they especially will not take you back. Accept it: there is no path back to the life of the woman you once were. Like there is no way for me to ever be the man I once was. The only future is forward to something new."
She nods sadly to agree. "I thought that was what we were doing . . . that we were creating a new and better future for the Empire and the Republic." And maybe—just maybe—if they killed Vitiate, she could return to the Republic as a hero, like she still longs to be. "But now," she glares, "I know that the new and better future you want is for yourself!"
She looks away as she wipes at an infuriating tear that leaks out. "You're probably right about the Order . . . they're unlikely to take me back, with or without Revan, no matter what I do to help the Republic. But that won't stop me from trying. I still want to be a good Jedi. I still want to help the Republic."
"By freeing Revan, starting a civil war here in the Empire, and then plotting a Republic invasion?" Tony goads.
"I don't know what Revan will want to do," she admits softly. "I'm not even sure who Revan is now."
"But it doesn't matter, does it? Because he's Revan and you will forgive him anything and follow him anywhere," Tony complains bitterly.
"I think . . ." Meetra pauses as an inelegant hiccup that is mostly a sob slips out, "I think that you and I are two broken souls who can't save each other . . . and we were fools to think otherwise . . ."
Tony immediately turns her words back on her. "We may be broken souls, but our jagged pieces fit together—"
"This dyad is a mistake."
"Because it's not between you and Revan?" Tony huffs.
"Maybe. I don't know," she answers honestly.
"The Force makes no mistakes. We are the fools who make the mistakes!" It's Tony being his usual earnest, pious self. "Do not doubt the Force!"
She looks away as she struggles for how to put an end to this confrontation. She doesn't want to hurt Tony, but that seems inevitable now. And really, it's his own fault. She told him not to get attached. But Sith that he is, Darth Sion allowed himself to be ruled by his passions. The man is a slave to his attachments.
She tries anew. "I cannot be who you want me to be. I cannot love you the way you want to be loved."
"That's fine. Just heal me. That's all I ask. Be with me and heal me."
Are they negotiating now? Meetra states her terms. "Help me free Revan and we'll work something out."
Tony shakes his head. "Freeing Revan is a nonstarter."
She persists. "Kreia just confirmed that your hunch about Revan being Sith born is true. It makes me think that you're right and he truly is the Sith'ari—"
"Then he doesn't need my help. He has the Force to protect him."
Oh, come on! "He's a prisoner of Vitiate!"
"Better him than me!"
It's as she has suspected. Tony won't lift a finger to help Revan. So, what more is there to discuss? There will be no common ground between them on the issues that matter. Meetra nods slowly and declares herself done. "Well, if you change your mind, I guess the dyad will tell you where to find me." Anxious to leave, she turns her attention to more mundane matters. "Which ship do you want—the shuttle or that transport? Because I'd prefer to take the transport."
"You're making an enormous mistake. We are meant for each other," Tony outright pleads. "If you will just drop this infatuation with Revan and forget the Jedi Code, you will—"
"Maybe it is a mistake," she interrupts, "but it's my mistake to make."
"You're damning me as well! We are a dyad!" Tony hisses.
"Look, I never sought you out," she bristles. "And I never promised you anything for the long term."
"Think of all who will suffer because you refuse to heal me! Do you know how many I will need to kill now?"
"You are not my fault!" she hollers back. Meetra has a conscience ladened with many lost souls but Darth Sion, at least, is not her responsibility. He can fend for himself. That he tortures is his own sin, not hers. Right?
"But I love you . . ." Tony's halting tone is wistful and his ruined face crushed. The bond tells her just how devastated he is as the finality of her decision sinks in. "I love you."
"I know," Meetra answers solemnly, "and I'm sorry for that."
And now again, her vision blurs and Tony seems to flicker and fuzz before her eyes. But maybe that's from the torrent of embarrassing tears that threaten. Meetra feels her emotions spiraling fast. It's the bond. Damn the bond that communicates Tony's sorrow so keenly. Because Darth Sion is just one more thing to feel guilty about here on doomed Malachor V. He's right. She really should leave this place. It diminishes her.
Meetra's shoulders shudder as she gives in to the wave of emotions she cannot suppress. Some Jedi she is. Look at her unable to keep her cool. She's upset and powerless to hide it.
"Hey now . . ."
She looks up as Tony steps close to wipe gently at her cheek with his gloved fingers.
"Hey now, don't cry. Let's not part like this."
She sniffs. Then she involuntarily wails. But when he tries to envelop her in an insidious hug, she resists. Tony contents himself with resting his hands lightly on her upper arms.
Softly, he croons, "Take the transport for now. When you change your mind—"
"I won't change my mind!"
"If you change your mind, I will be waiting for you."
Oh, great. Now, he's going to pine away. Tony's long been unhappy mourning his dead first wife. And now, he'll be unhappy mourning her, his pretend second wife. It's fitting, in a way. Tony is a noble, tragic guy, loyal to those he loves. It was part of his appeal, until it trumped his political goals and all that love became focused on her.
Look at him—he's truly monstrous to behold in his rotting zombie glory. That ugly face belongs to the scary villain in the fairytale. Or maybe to the main character in an allegorical morality tale. For Darth Sion is a Dark acolyte who soothes his pain with more pain in a sysiphean quest for contentment. And that's the message of his life: that the Dark Side has no answers, only more misery. She can see it. But Tony, a Sith Lord blinded to the truth of his own society, cannot. Still, Meetra would be lying if she said the futility of the man didn't appeal to her. There is much about his lonely plight that resonates with her.
But she's a Jedi in her heart regardless of her status with the Order. And so, she tells herself that it is appropriate that she reject not only the attachment Tony tempts her with, but also the Dark Side he represents. The choice to deny the dyad is a choice to abandon the Shadow Force. She will choose the Light Side and the Jedi way instead. Maybe it's a little too late, but she's doing it all the same.
She's been in a crisis of faith since the war. But she's certain now in a way she hasn't been for years. All that has happened—all the losses, the mistakes, and the bizarre detours along the way—they were a meandering path to this moment of enlightened self-awareness. Meetra knows what she has to do: to stop looking for help from the Dark Side to achieve a Light Side goal.
Tony let her down in the throne room because that's what Darksiders do—they betray. He didn't do it for power, but he did it all the same. And so, now it falls to her alone to save Revan. Where is this all heading? Meetra has no idea, but that doesn't give her pause. For the first time in a long time, she feels a sense of confidence in her own decisions. She's choosing the Light Side, like she should have done all along. The Jedi Order is wrong about a great many things, but not about the supremacy of the Light.
Meetra wipes at her eyes and squints curiously up at Tony when he tells her, "I forgive you," with all the solemnity of one of his Kittat prayers.
"Whaat?" She's not following, and she suddenly feels lightheaded. "Tony—I don't feel right . . . " Meetra grabs at him to steady herself. She is so unfocused that she can't tell if she hears him in her ears, in her mind, or both. When they are touching, the dyad often confuses her senses. But right now, she is extremely disoriented.
"I love you," Tony says those uncomfortable words again. She wishes he would stop. "I love you, and I forgive you. Any time you wish to return to me, or just to come to see me, I will welcome you."
"Yeah okay, alright," she mumbles.
"You will always be my wife, and I will be faithful to you in all things. I only want the best for you, Meetra."
Whatever. Can he stop with these fervent declarations? Tony is dragging this goodbye out like it's a climactic scene in a cheesy holonet serial. "Uh, I think I need to sit down . . . Maybe I need some sleep . . ." Or maybe the fetid stench of her zombie swain is making her woozy.
She is sweating and gulping air now as Tony keeps talking. "You will know where to find me. The dyad will tell you."
Meetra groans a little at this reminder. She doesn't like the invisible mental tether between them.
Hovering Tony leans in to drop a soft kiss on her forehead. "Farewell, little Jedi," he whispers his pet name for her.
Looking down at the ground, she replies back dully, "Goodbye, Tony."
"Are you alright?" She feels his fingers brush hair back from her clammy forehead. "Are you—"
She physically retreats from his gesture. Touching Tony ups the intensity of whatever she's vicariously experiencing, so she seeks distance. "I'm fine. Let go! Really, I'm fine."
That's not true. She winces and raises fingertips to her temples because her head suddenly feels like it is splitting. But the momentary flare of pain quickly subsides. Blinking at the ground, after a long moment she decides with relief, "I'm better now." She doesn't have Tony's inhuman pain tolerance to casually endure his everyday agony. "I—I—"
Meetra looks up and opens her eyes now to see . . . nothing.
Wait—nothing?
She's confused. Where did he go? Meetra looks around. There's no sign of Darth Sion.
And that's when she glances down again to see the puddle of clothes on the pavement. It's a black cape, tunic, pants, boots, and even gloves. They are Tony's clothes—the ones he was wearing mere seconds ago—and they are empty.
Empty?
Wait—empty?
"OH!" Meetra blurts out her shock and distress. It's like Tony has disappeared. But that makes no sense.
She stares hard at the discarded pile of personal effects on the ground alongside Tony's lightsaber hilt. Suddenly recalling the powerful Dark Council member in the throne room battle who dissolved into air when he died, a sneaking suspicion dawns. He didn't . . . did he?
"Tony! Tony?"
Each time Meetra says his name, her voice ramps up in pitch and in volume.
"TONY! TONY? TOOOONNYYYY!"
Oh, Force! What just happened?
Meetra sinks to her knees to poke at the empty clothes. But she already knows he's gone. The dyad is gone too. And with it, Tony's Force energy she was so accustomed to using as her own. Once again, Meetra is cut off from the mystical energy field that binds the universe together, unable to commune with her divine creator.
"Nooooo!" she howls her dismay. Meetra is every emotion all at once now, and that seems like a cruel mockery in the wake of her steadfast recommitment to the aloof, cerebral Light. "NOOOOOOO!"
Her anguished cry brings Kreia running. The erstwhile Jedi historian turned Sith priestess takes one look at shocked Meetra on her knees clutching Tony's cloak and sizes up the situation. As usual, Kreia doesn't sugarcoat things.
"Killed him, did you?"
"Of course, not!" Meetra is indignant at the very suggestion.
Kreia considers a moment before she shrugs. "Maybe I should have said he killed himself." She shoots Meetra a knowing look and adds, "He died for the love of you."
"You're wrong!"
"It would be tragic if it weren't so stupid," Kreia points out dryly.
"Shut the fuck up!" Meetra isn't in the mood for Kreia's mean girl needling. "He didn't kill himself. He didn't even light his sword," she wails. "What happened? He was just here!"
"Are you really this clueless?" Kreia snorts. But after glancing at Meetra's tearstained face, she sighs and relents, "Evidently so. Look, Sion was kept alive by Darkness. So when you redeemed him—"
"I didn't redeem him!" If anyone was redeemed today, it was her. She was the one to reaffirm her allegiance to the Light. "Oh, Tony . . ."
"Why so sad? This is what you wanted, right? Congratulations, Jedi, you just established the supremacy of the Light Side in the most literal sense ever. Now, you can brag that you can slay a Sith with love alone." Cynical Kreia smirks. "How the Council would love it . . ."
"Oh, Tony . . ." Stunned Meetra didn't want this end for him. Sure, she was leaving him. But that didn't mean she wanted him dead. She cared for Tony even if she didn't love Tony the way he wanted.
Kreia's wry expression softens in the face of her rising distress. "Have you never seen anyone return to the Force before?"
"I'm not sure. I think so. Maybe," Meetra sputters.
"It only happens to the most powerful among us. Those who are full of Force don't die in their bodily form." Kreia cocks her head and observes with detachment, "It's beautiful, really."
"You're saying he's d-dead? Like dead dead?" Meetra whispers hoarsely. She's aghast and unwilling to accept the truth.
Kreia nods. "Darth Sion has returned to the Force."
That's a Jedi phrase which Meetra has always understood to be a polite euphemism. But now, she realizes it is a very literal description.
"May the Force be with him . . ." Kreia remarks thoughtfully. "Wherever he is now, I hope he is free of pain."
Horrified Meetra chokes out. "He's gone . . . you're sure?"
Kreia equivocates. "Well, what they say is true—no one's ever really gone . . . "
"What does that mean?"
Kreia's response is coy. "You'll find out someday, I hope."
"I still don't understand. What happened? Why did he die?" Meetra wails.
"You redeemed him, and it killed him."
"I didn't redeem him—he was Dark!"
"He was Dark, and Darkness kept him alive. But when he became Light—"
"He was Dark!" Meetra insists. "He is Dark and I am Light! I am the Light one!" When she didn't have yellow eyes, that is.
"Uhm, yes, the dyad pairing," Kreia muses sagely. "Such a rare thing . . . "
Meetra is instantly suspicious. "How much did you overhear?"
"Enough to know that you're not the Light one," Kreia snorts. "Sion was Light, at least today. You got what you wanted, didn't you? You redeemed him and it killed him."
"I did not kill him!" Meetra howls and fumes. She didn't want Tony Light. She wasn't trying to convert him.
Kreia ignores her denial. She smirks and drawls, "Just don't do that to Revan if you find him."
And now, up walks Darth Nihilus. "What just happened? I felt a disturbance." He peers from behind his mask at her standing holding Sion's cloak in one hand and her lightsaber in another. Then he looks to Kreia for an explanation. "What did she do?"
"Killed Sion."
"Is that all?" Lord Nihilus is a typical Sith Lord who shrugs off death and violence with indifference. "Who knew old Sion would make that kind of disturbance? I'm going to have a headache for sure," the Lord of Hunger complains.
"Go inside and I'll join you shortly," Kreia hustles her sometime ally away. With a pointed warning look her direction, Kreia announces, "Meetra's leaving as soon as she is refueled. There's nothing for her here now."
She's right. Meetra inhales a ragged breath and nods numbly.
Kreia takes charge now in that motherly way she adopts from time to time. She helps Meetra to refuel Tony's transport and to prepare it for a lengthy voyage. At Kreia's suggestion, Meetra returns Tony's red shuttle back home on autopilot as a potential decoy once she copies all the important data from its mainframe. When it lifts off, Kreia sends her on her way. "May the Force be with you," the older woman tells her, and she seems to truly mean it. But it's hard to be sure because Kreia is always a bit of an enigma.
It's no more than twenty minutes since Tony became one with the Force when Meetra finds herself lifting off in the transport he arrived on. The whirlwind of activity in the hangar helped to shut down her raging emotions. In the immediate aftermath, Meetra feels dazed. Did that actually happen? None of it seems real yet. It's too fresh and too momentous to process. But now that she is done hurriedly going through the motions of mindless tasks, she is alone in an empty ship on a slow voyage. There's nothing to do but think. As the transport plods back through the Malachor system on sublight engines, Meetra begins to confront what it means to survive a dyad.
Darth Sion turned out not to be the controlling brute Meetra expected. Beneath that zombie surface was a surprisingly mild-mannered man who more often than not opted for restraint. He didn't like to argue. He mostly gave in to her when they bickered. Tony liked to pick his battles; he saved his conflict for the things he cared about most. That meant he generally let her do as she pleased, but he drew the line at confronting Vitiate and freeing Revan since it would oppose his kin. That was their breaking point.
Darth Sion was largely permissive for all, not just for her. It made him a remarkably enlightened autocrat for his system. In return, he was beloved by his people who respected and admired him even as they pitied his affliction. In a society that reveres strength and power, Tony's obvious weakness was a shameful open secret that most pretended not to notice. That's how well liked he was. Even the lowliest of his subjects seemed to feel protective of him.
Tony was a stalwart advocate of his Empire and an unabashed apologist for the Dark Side, even as he flirted with the Light and glanced curiously towards the Republic's institutions from afar. Tony didn't wish to emulate his enemy, but he was open to learning from them. And that posture made him a rare moderate among his peers. He privately saw the benefits of tolerance and coexistence for the two opposing sides of the galaxy. His willingness to forego the revenge of the Sith makes the demise of Darth Sion feel like a loss to everyone everywhere.
It especially feels like a loss to her. The man lurked in her mind to varying degrees for many months. And in return, Meetra had lurked in his. Tony was a friend, a co-conspirator, and a lover, even if he wasn't the soulmate husband he desired to be. In private, he had an easy smile and he delighted in stupid puns and jokes. But the public man was appropriately ceremonial and magnanimous. For centuries, Tony lived a life of duty and piety, intermixed with necessary violence to manage his pain. It had been a longtime solitary existence until she came along. Their unexpected dyad gave him the physical relief he craved and provided the Force she sought. But Tony's gone now, and his Force is gone with him. Meetra feels doubly bereft and bleakly dismayed.
Tony never set out to become Light, but evidently he ended up there all the same. Just like she never intended to embrace the Dark Side, but she had yellow eyes on occasion. What does that say about the nature of the soul that it can end up taking widely divergent paths than you plan? How much of life is preordained for Force users, and how much of what happened was the result of human frailty? Is she responsible for Tony's death? Is Tony? Could the Force be to blame? Meetra isn't sure.
Was this outcome inevitable given where Tony kept trying to push their relationship? He always claimed the dyad was a blessing, but was he wrong? Is the eventual resolution of a dyad mutually assured destruction? Could Tony's death be proof that the two sides of the Force must keep their distance? Can there never be a true balance between Light and Dark?
There is a practical problem for Meetra now, too: how will she ever manage to free Revan without the Force?
She has no answers, only many brooding questions. But there are still important tasks to be done.
Force, make me an instrument of your will. Meetra prays Tony's favorite prayer when she eventually works up the nerve to use Bao-Dur's droid remote to activate the mass shadow generator. As planned, the super weapon consumes itself, Kreia's now-abandoned Trayus Academy, and most of what remains of Malachor V. Never again will the Crusaders' technological terror be used for mass murder. It is consigned to history now. Stone faced Meetra observes it all from a safe distance in the cockpit of the transport.
Now, there's only one more loose end to close from this chapter in her life. But it's the most important one. She sets off to find Revan.
Force, make me an instrument of your will. Meetra repeats Tony's prayer as she sets course for the nebula adjacent to the Albarrio system and makes the jump to lightspeed. The odds are long for this mission, but Meetra is grimly determined. She will keep the faith and do her duty like a good Jedi should. Meetra knows that she has wavered . . . that she has made terrible mistakes and fallen short of what she and others expected of her. But in this task, she hopes to find redemption. She will save Revan from the evil Sith Emperor Darth Vitiate, or die trying. For in this fight, at least, it is clear that she's the good guy. Meetra has only ever wanted to be hero, but alas that was something poor Tony never fully understood about her.
