Cold grey eyes bore into brown ones. Revan could hardly bear to look into the soulless gaze of his once closest friend. There was nothing but an intense hated in them. Even after he had saved his life on the Star Forge, this was the thanks he got? Ungrateful little—
"What do you want?"
The Jedi Knight cringed at the electronic hum, low droidspeak of a voice. His memories were nothing but foggy fragments, though he did know that he had cut off Malak's jaw. For what reason, he knew not.
Revan, still weak from the effects of using Force heal, lowered himself slowly onto the seat by his desk, in his quarters. He was gracious enough to let the former Sith Lord 'borrow' his room, the Captain's room, if only to keep him secured. Besides, he didn't mind sharing with Bastila...
"That's no way to talk to the person who saved your life."
Malak stiffened, turning away from him. It didn't go unnoticed by Revan that his former companion was rubbing the spot he had stabbed him in, which he was now feeling guilty of for such an action. The darkness in him has gotten the better of him, from the remnants of his old self that still remained.
Realizing that he was not going to get anywhere with the stubborn bantha sitting on his bed, he sighed. "Are you alright?"
Suspicious grey eyes snapped toward him.
Brilliant blue eyes twinkled as melodic laughter sang in the air. "We finally did it!" A brilliant crystal glimmered in the clear skies as the young boy held it up brightly.
Revan's hand flew to his temple, massaging the area as a throbbing headache formed from the brief fragment of the memory. It was... Malak. Young and free and stupid. He couldn't pick out what was going on, but he suspected it was something important since it took place on Dantooine.
He didn't realize that his old friend had blue eyes. Staring into the cold gaze, he suspected it had something to do with the dark side. He was glad he didn't have burning yellow eyes, red rimmed with hatred and bloodlust right now.
"Why do you care?" He wasn't sure if the venom in his tone hurt more than the beating he had received earlier from the Sith Lord.
"Because," Revan inhaled deeply, glancing at the door. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."
Malak snorted.
"Look," he muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the former Sith Lord's behavior. "the Hawk hit some debris when we escape the Forge. It mucked up the hyperdrive. We're currently adrift in space."
"What?"
"You heard me," the Jedi Knight grumbled, running a hand through his raven hair. "Carth and Bastila are trying to fix the Hawk, but we don't know how long it'll take."
Malak, if he had a mouth, probably would've pressed his lips into a tight line. Only now a large, unmoving metal protheses remained. The galaxy had much better cybernetics to offer, and Revan wondered why he only allowed him to get such an eyesore of a jaw. It wasn't even that. It was practically a metal block from his upper lip down.
"How much fuel do we have?" the former Sith Lord finally broke the silence, startling Revan out of his thoughts.
The Jedi Knight glanced toward the door again, drumming his fingers against the armrest of the chair. "About two months' worth," he replied. "I doubt we'll be using too much of it. The bigger concern is the food and water."
Malak's glare turned icy. "I can't eat."
Of course, he thought bitterly, of course. He hadn't really thought about what his old friend's condition meant beyond the aesthetic tragedy of it. Malak couldn't consume food or water like a normal person. He probably had to have everything injected into him, which meant little enjoyment of anything.
"I didn't mean—" Revan began, though he was rudely cut off by the man in front of him.
"Don't patronize me," Malak growled. "I've adapted. I'm not some fragile thing you need to coddle, Revan."
The name stung. He felt the darkness unfurling with him, yearning to punish the insolent apprentice. How dare he talk back to his Master! Ungrateful worm! After all he had done for him, saving his life, training him—
Revan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the Sith Lord persona, whose headspace he was starting to drift into. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't him.
...well, he was, but he wasn't. Not anymore.
The Jedi resisted the urge to retaliate with equal venom, or worse.
"Well, for those of us who can still eat," he said carefully, "our rations are limited. I don't know how long our crew will take to repair the ship. Days maybe weeks. The sooner we can get to a proper port, the better."
"And then what?" Malak abruptly stood, stalking over to where the Revan sat. Their size difference was glaringly obvious. His former companion had always been bigger than him and twice as broad, always towering over him. "What happens when you reach a port? Turn me in to the Republic as your prize? Parade me through the streets like a conquered beast?"
Revan stared at him, stunned by the accusation. "That's not—"
"Save your excuses," Malak snapped, looking like he wanted to snap his neck right then and there. "Do you think I'm blind to what I've become? To how they'll see me? The Republic doesn't forgive, Revan. They'll want blood, not redemption."
"That's not true." Revan stood up, glaring at up at his friend. He only came just barely above his chest, pathetically small compared to the large man next to him. "The Republic gave me a second chance."
"They brainwashed you!" The former Sith Lord snapped. "Erasing your memories and burying your true self is what you call redemption?"
"No." Revan shook his head. "I lost my way, the Jedi brought me back onto the right path. Though I do admit that their... methods were not as righteous as they believe them to be."
Malak scoffed. "The Revan I knew would have never said that. He would've conquered those that dared defy him. He was trying to save the galaxy, in his words. Not mine."
Revan placed a hand on the metal jaw, ignoring the flinch that his former friend gave. "Just like I did to you?"
The former Sith Lord probably would've bit his hand off. Instead, he stiffened at the touch and averted his gaze. "Why not leave me to die on the Star Forge? Why not end it there, as you should have."
He opened his mouth to response but found himself at a loss. The truth wasn't simple. He had saved Malak because he had once been his closest friend, his brother in all but blood. He had saved him because, deep down, he believed that Malak could be more than the monster he had become.
All these thoughts flitted through his mind. He opened his mouth to say them all, but then decided against it. "Because I couldn't," he said finally, hearing the sorrowful tone in his voice. "I couldn't let you die, not like that."
Malak scoffed. "Mercy," he sneered, pulling away from him. "How noble of you. But mercy won't undo the past, Revan. It won't erase the lives we took, the worlds we burned. It won't make us whole again."
A painful throbbing sensation started to form behind his eyes, staring at the man before him. No longer was Malak the bright-eyed boy who had laughed with him under Dantooine's skies, who had fought by his side against impossible odds. He was a shell of what he had been. Of what Revan had done to him.
"Why did you do it?" Revan asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Do what?"
"All of it," the Jedi Knight gestured vaguely. "Why? Was it worth it?"
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze turning distant as if searching for something he couldn't quite grasp. "You assume there was a choice," he said finally, in a low tone that Revan struggled to hear.
"There's always a choice," the man countered. "We could have stopped. Turned back before it was too late."
"And do what?" Malak snapped. "Return to the Republic? To the Jedi? After everything we saw—the corruption, the incompetence, the inaction? They let entire worlds burn, Revan. You saw it as clearly as I did."
Revan opened his mouth to response but hesitated. He didn't remember much of what happened, only the records that painted him as the big bad that had betrayed the Order to fight against the Mandalorians.
Bastila had shared more with him, telling him that he had believed that their only salvation lay in taking matters into their owns hands. But somewhere along the way, they had lost sight of their original purpose.
"That doesn't justify what we became," the Jedi Knight said quietly.
"What you became," Malak shot back venomously. "Don't pretend you're innocent in all of this. You were the one who led us into the darkness. You were the one who turned first. I simply followed."
"I'm trying to fix it," the man said after a long pause. "I'm trying to make things right."
The former Sith Lord laughed harshly. "Fix it? Make things right? You can't undo what we've done, Revan. The galaxy doesn't forgive so easily."
"I'm still going to try," the Jedi Knight said wearily.
"You're an even bigger fool than I thought," his former companion snapped, plopping back down on his bed. His back was turned to him, signaling that he was done talking.
Revan sighed and stood up, stretching as he did so. "I'll... see you later, I suppose."
There was no response, no parting word, not even a glance. Malak stared at the wall as if he hadn't spoken at all. It was childish and petty, but there was nothing he could do about it.
With another sigh, Revan opened the door to his quarters, stepping out into the hall of the Ebon Hawk. He almost immediately bumped into HK-47, his assassin droid that he had apparently built back during the war.
The tall, rust-colored droid had a face that was shaped to look like a fierce jungle cat ready to pounce on its prey. His droid greeted him in the most HK way possible. "I see you have not been terminated yet, Master."
Revan smirked despite himself. "Nice to see you too, HK."
"Query: Were you attempting to engage in organic bonding rituals with the meatbag formerly known as Darth Malak? If so, I would like to recommend termination as a more effective solution. Prolonged interaction with the treacherous meatbag is high inefficient."
The Jedi Knight chuckled dryly. "No, HK. I wasn't 'bonding.' Just... checking in on him."
"Observation: Your persistence in sparing such a meatbag is baffling, Master. He is clearly defective. Allow me to assist in rectifying this oversight."
Revan shook his head, trying—and failing—to keep the smile off his face. "I don't think that's necessary, HK."
The droid's photoreceptors dimmed. How in the world could this droid make himself look sad without having any features that could say so? He was truly special...
"Disappointed acknowledgement: As you wish, Master. However, I remain available should you reconsider."
The Jedi Knight leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "How's the ship holding up?"
HK-47 emitted a low hum. "Diagnostic: The Ebon Hawk's systems are operating at suboptimal levels due to the incompetence of lesser meatbags. The hyperdrive remains inoperative, and the secondary systems are malfunctioning." His tone shifted to one of glee. "I suggest we jettison the unnecessary organics to conserve resources."
Revan snorted. "We're not jettisoning anyone, HK. How long do you think it'll take to get us moving again?"
"Speculation: Given the current inefficiency of the crew, I estimate repairs will require at least 48 standard hours. Perhaps longer, if they continue to bicker like pathetic rodents."
The Jedi Knight sighed, running a hand through his hair, which he had been allowing to grow out. "Great. Stuck in the middle of nowhere for two days."
"Optimistic encouragement: Think of it as an opportunity, Master. You could use this time to reflect on your many, many failures. Or perhaps plan more elaborate ways to eliminate your enemies."
Revan shot the droid a wry look. "Thanks, HK. Just... ugh, I don't know, keep an eyes on things." HK lit up, only for Revan to pop whatever sadistic thought that had entered the droid's brain module. "And no shooting anything."
The droid deflated.
"I mean it HK."
"Oh Master, you are so cruel," the assassin droid whined.
"Yes, yes I am." Revan chuckled, patting HK on the back affectionately. Without another word, he strode down the halls and came to the common room where Canderous was lounging, sipping out of a container of what he suspected was whiskey that he had pocketed at some point.
The Jedi Knight shook his head and walked down the hall opposite of the Mandalorian warrior, heading to the crew quarters. Walking down the long hallway, he eventually came to the room and was relived to find it empty. No Carth. No Bastila.
Mission and her Wookie friend were probably somewhere else on the ship, far away from him, thankfully. He needed to concentrate, and distractions wouldn't help.
Revan sat down on the floor, taking the meditative position. He opened himself up, allowing the Force to wash over him. Whispers started, like they always did, in his mind, slowly growing louder and louder. It sounded familiar. Like he had heard before, somewhere a long time ago.
Two black voids bore into his soul.
Searching, taking, wanting...
Dark tendrils curled around his heart, tugging, begging for its master. It swirled in his mind, drawing out the true version of him. The Dark Lord of the Sith. Darth Revan. Untainted by the Jedi's filthy lies, the true ruler of the galaxy! Their saviour, their conquer, their hero and villain.
He was doing something... trying to help. There was something dark beyond the rim, pulling strings to its puppets.
"It stares at you with blackened eyes."
Who said that?
"Its voice breaks through any conviction you might have."
Who was it... he knew that voice...
"It tells you to walk and you do so like you've always wanted to."
Curse those Jedi who stole what was rightfully his! They had no right to his mind, to strip away memories that he made. Those fools were afraid, even as he tried to save them. He offered them chances to join him before it was too late.
But too late for what? What was it? What haunted him in every waking moment and in his nightmares?
"It never sleeps. It never tires. And it rests out there, beyond the rim, waiting."
Revan hissed, clutching his head as a wave pain washed over him. The darkness responded violently, hissing and thrashing, trying to get free of its chains. Why did he have true power binded? He reached out to the dark knot in him, hypnotized by the odd beauty of it.
"It just... is."
He was so close...
Then he remembered. He jerked back away from the darkness, horrified how close he had come to embracing his darkness again. It terrified him. He had slipped back into the Sith Lord's headspace, something that was becoming more problematic as of lately.
The darkness around him shifted, giving way to a void that was dimly illuminated by an unknown source of light, revealing shimmering black waters around him. Ripples spread out from where he was standing, growing more frequent.
Tendrils of darkness lashed out at him, gripping his ankles and wrists. Revan twisted and squirmed in an attempt to free himself, but it was for naught. It pulled him under the water, revealing the nightmarish depths beneath the surface.
Bodies. Hundreds of thousands of bodies resided underneath, having expressions of horror and fear twisted on their features. Some were mangled, others dismembered, some scorched, others bloody and broken.
Water suddenly flooded his lungs, cutting off his air supply. He could taste the metallic tang of blood mixed in the corrupted water, from the corpses that surrounded him. His vision started to blur and as this happened, he saw a lone figure, softly glowing with a light that lit up the grim waters.
A petite hand reached out to him. Bastila?
He tried to reach out, only for the shadows to chase away her light and plunge him deeper into the abyss.
The sun hung long over the Jedi Enclave, casting a golden light on the beautiful planet of Dantooine. The wind rustled the plains and leaves fell off the Blba tree that resided next to a lake. Revan, leaning casually against a wall, scanned the grounds.
He was on a mission. A very important mission. Searching for the cursed boy. They claimed the Mandalorians had destroyed his entire village, and somehow, it was his fault. Revan didn't believe in curses, but he was intrigued. He wanted to see this so-called cursed boy for himself.
And there he was, sitting under a tree on the far side of the grounds, apart from the others. The boy was lean, having pale skin and intense eyes that held a great weight no kid his age should've. Revan could relate, probably.
His name was something long and strange. Squignmarious? Squirano-something-something. That wasn't it. Revan couldn't even behind to pronounce it, so he just thought of him as the bald boy by the tree.
Most of the other initiates avoided him like the Rakghoul Plague, and Revan didn't understand why. He wasn't afraid of bad luck or curses. He was far more interested in what made people tick.
Pushing his raven-black hair out of his eyes, Revan finally decided to approach. Putting on an air of confidence, he walked over to the boy. His boots crunched softly against the grass, but the boy didn't look up.
"Hey," the Padawan said, stopping just a couple feet shy of him. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"
Suspicious blue eyes flicked up to him. He didn't respond right away, staring at him as if trying to decide whether he was worth the effort.
Revan crossed his arms and tilted his head. To see how he would react, he added, "You know, they're all over there saying you're cursed or something."
The boy's gaze darkened. "I don't care what they think."
The Padawan smirked. "Good. Because they're idiots."
That earned him the boy's interest. Perfect. He could already see they were going to be great friends, whether this so-called 'jinx' wanted it or not. He always wanted someone to order around anyways, or someone to do his dirty work. Whichever came first.
"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.
Revan shrugged and sat down across from him, uninvited. He ignored the glare sent his way. "To talk. Besides, I need better company than those idiots." He jerked a thumb in the direction of some of the other initiates running about. "I'm Revan, by the way."
The boy hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he muttered. "Alek. My name's Alek."
The Padawan raised an eyebrow. "Just Alek? No... Sqeginernumous-whatever?"
Alek blinked in confusion before realizing what he meant. A small smile spread across his face. "You mean Alek Squinquargesimus. That's my full name. Well, what the Mercy Corps gave me anyways." A look of sadness flashed across his face before it disappeared. "But... it's easier if you just call me Alek."
"Yeah, I can see why. That's a mouthful." Revan grinned. "What kind of name is that anyways? It sounds like a disease."
Alek glared, but there was no real heat behind it. "It's not a disease," he said defensively. "It's—"
"Squint."
"What?"
Revan cackled at the boy's expression. "Squint. I rather like the name and it suits you perfectly. Besides, nobody can pronounce that name. Sqweeny-garmi-sus."
The boy huffed. "It's not that hard to pronounce, idiot. Squin-quar-gesimus."
"Riiight." His grin only widened as he sprawled out on the grass next to an irritated Alek. "So, Squint, what's the deal with that stick? You planning to beat someone with it?"
"It's not a weapon," Alek said. "It's just... something to do."
"Right," Revan drawled, entirely unconvinced. Obviously, he had plans for that stick. Beating people would be a great way to start their friendship. He had a list that he could offer Alek. "You're out here sulking with you 'not-a-weapon.' Sounds legit."
Alek shot him a withering glare. "Why are you even talking to me?"
"Why not?" the Padawan countered. "You looked interesting. And, y'know, cursed."
"I'm not cursed."
"Sure you're not, Squint."
Revan noticed that the boy was shaking and quickly realized that he was trying to stifle laughter. Nothing went unnoticed with him.
"See? I knew you weren't all doom and gloom," the boy remarked, much to the new initiate's dismay. "Stick with me, Squint. I'm way more fun than sitting under a tree pretending to be mysterious."
Alek rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said at last. "But if you call me 'Squint' again, I'll hit you with this stick."
Revan laughed, utterly unbothered and unfazed by the threat. "Deal, Squint."
The boy next to him scowled, raising the stick. Only for it to be ripped out of his hands with the Force. It landed in Revan's hand with a thwack. Alek's jaw dropped, staring at him like he had grown two heads.
"What?"
"You... you did that like it was nothing."
Revan rolled his eyes, tossing the stick into the air and catching it. He repeated this process, glancing at the boy. "That's because it was nothing."
"No, it wasn't," Alek countered. "I've been trying to do something like that for weeks. I can barely make a pebble move."
Revan paused in his activity, furrowing his brow as he regarded the cursed boy. "It's hard for you?" He sat up, dropping the stick into his lap.
Alek nodded, his gaze dropping to the grass between them. "Everyone else makes it look so easy. I can feel the Force—I know it's there—but it's like... like it doesn't listen to me."
The Padawan frowned. "The Force isn't something that listens or doesn't listen. It's just... there. You reach for it, and it's there."
Alek's lips thinned. "Maybe it's just different for you. I've tried everything, including all the exercises they make us do. But when I try to move something, it's like there's a wall between me and the Force."
Revan tapped the stick against his knee thoughtfully. He wasn't used to thinking about the Force in such abstract terms—it was as natural to his as breathing. It seemed it wasn't the case for others. Apparently, Alek viewed the Force as an adversary rather than an ally.
"Maybe you're overthinking it," Revan said at last.
The boy's eyes narrowed. "Overthinking it? That's your advice?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. You're probably sitting there trying to force the Force to do something. That's not how it works. You don't force it—it's not a tool. You've got to... I don't know, let it flow."
"That's the most useless advice I've ever heard."
Revan smirked, unbothered by the sarcasm. "Fine. Don't listen to me. Do. I don't care." He leaned in close, grinning. "But just to let you know: I'm right. I'm always right."
With that, he held out the stick on his palm to Alek. "Go ahead. Try it."
The boy hesitated, staring at the stick like it would bite him. Finally, he exhaled slowly and reached out with the Force. Revan could feel him touching the Force, but he wasn't grabbing it. Nor was he letting it flow through him. He was tense.
The stick didn't budge.
Revan watched his expression closely, dark eyes studying ever twitch of Alek's face. "You're trying too hard."
"Easy for you to say," Alek grumbled.
"Stop thinking about what you want the stick to do. Just... feel. The Force is already there—it's already been there the whole time. You don't have to fight it." Revan watched the boy start to relax. "Envision it, feel it."
Revan could feel the boy reaching out again, but this time, he let go of the frustration, the doubt, the overwhelming pressure to succeed. He reached out with his senses instead of his hand, letting the Force flow through him rather than trying to command it.
The stick wobbled and then started to float into Alek's hand. The boy's eyes snapped open and a grin spread across his face. "I did it!"
The Padawan grinned. "See? Told you."
The not-so-cursed boy let out a shaky laugh, looking completely disbelieving. "Y-yeah..."
"Revan!"
Both boys' heads swiveled to the sound of a woman's voice. Standing at the edge of the courtyard was Master Keria, dark robes billowing in the wind. Despite lacking eyesight, Revan could feel her gaze on him. Kriff, he was busted.
The boy sighed dramatically, shoulder slumping. "It seems I have to go," he said mournfully, turning back to his new friend.
Alek blinked, staring blankly at him. For a long moment, he didn't respond. But eventually, he seemed to get his thoughts in order and nodded awkwardly.
"Okay."
Revan got to his feet, brushing grass off his tunic. "I'll see you around, Squint," he said, grinning once again.
Alek frowned. "It's Alek," he corrected halfheartedly.
"Sure, Squint," Revan replied breezily, already turning away. When he reached Keria, she regarded him with an arched brow, lips quirking upward into a rare smile.
"Making friends, are we?"
"Something like that," the Padawan said, brushing past her with the same nonchalance he had showed Alek. He couldn't help but spare one last glance at the not-so-cursed boy, having a feel that this would only be the beginning of their adventures.
I was inspired to put this on here after I read a summary that said, 'What if Revan saved Malak'. I didn't read the contents, but I just saw that and this idea popped into my mind. I don't know if this'll be more than just a one-shot, for now.