Story: Prophet, Thing of Evil (all chapters)

Chapter 2:  Youth’s Forgotten Lore

                Where am I?

                Away, where Malak can’t hurt you.

                Memories surrounding me.  Me.  Revan.  My life.  Is this what people see when they die?

                Don’t die, Revan.  Please, I’m begging you.

                It’s so hard, Bastila.  I want to.  You’re here with me.  I’m done.  I fulfilled my promise.  I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.

                You’ve done well and you will do better.  Don’t leave me.  Not now.  I love you.

                No fair.  I want to die, but I can’t.  I can’t because you said so.

                Stay with me as long as you need.  Whatever you do, just stay.

                Can I at least see my memories?

                Whatever you want.  Just stay.  Please.

                They’re not pretty.  Not pretty like you.

                I don’t care, Revan.  You’re beautiful and you’re all that matters.

                My Princess...

*****************

                ... The Jedi Academy prided itself on self-control, an immaculate image, and rigid discipline to the Light Side. Clad in miniaturized Jedi robes, the cute, blonde haired girl made quite a picture going up against two of three precepts.  Around the Academy’s awesome fountain she danced, carelessly frolicking and ignoring the haughty glances others threw her way.

                The little girl kicked a rock as she quietly sang to herself, “Bored, bored, boooooored, bored...”

                “If you’re so bored, I have plenty of chores for you.”

                She gracefully yelped and landed on her behind.  “Master Jolee!” she gasped, her big green eyes watering and her lower lip quivering.

                The aged man grunted and folded his arms, unmoved by the display.  “We’ve got some new residents coming and Nasiri could use an extra pair of hands in the kitchen.  After you’re finished, you can show some of them to their rooms.”

                Kitchen duty?  That cut into what little private time (a.k.a. play time) she had.  New people coming?  That signaled another one of Master Vrook’s long, boring, pre-supper lectures.  And then having to show those new people to their rooms?  Well, not bad if Jedi didn’t wake up at the butt crack of dawn.  Sleep... precious sleep...  LOST!

                “But Master Jolee-”

                “Don’t Master Jolee me, Revan, or do you want to help Nasiri with breakfast tomorrow?”

*****************

                “So, umm, what’s your name?”

                The blonde haired girl glanced back at her two companions, a brother and a sister.  The boy was big, a full head taller than either girl, but he seemed nice enough, soft-spoken and everything.  A good amount of hero worship lingered in his gaze, and for the first time as a Jedi, the blonde felt proud of her status.

                So the boy was alright, alright enough for her to smile and say, “I’m Revan.”

                The girl?  Not so alright.  Unfazed, she turned her nose up.  “Just Revan?  Don’t you have a last name?”

                Contrary to her brother, the little brunette had a stubborn fire in her eyes.  She seemed like the type to do before she thought, already garnering Master Vrook’s ire by sneaking bites of food in during the windbag’s speech (not that Revan didn’t respect a bit of rebellion, herself doing the same thing only more discreetly and hence not getting caught).  Revan didn’t like those kinds of people.

                They reminded her of herself.

                Turning the question around, Revan planted her hands on hips and asked, “What about the two of you?”

                “I’m Malak Shan,” said the embarrassed boy as he tried to rein his sister in, “Shush!  This is Bastila Shan.”

                “Don’t shush me!” Bastila yelled.  “Don’t listen to her just because she’s a stupid Jedi!”

                As luck would have it, Master Vrook rounded the corner in time to catch the part about “stupid Jedi.”  His already permanent disapproving scowl deepened, his menacing stride quickening to the pint-sized disturbance of the Force.

                Ignoring both Malak and Revan, Vrook fixed his most intimidating glare at Bastila.  “Would you care to repeat that, young lady?”

                Maybe those widened eyes struck a chord.  Maybe the thought of subjecting new blood--especially potential playmates--to Master Vrook was too much to bear.  Maybe Bastila was the pitiable kind of child.  Maybe Revan was crazy (“The most probable answer,” according to Master Jolee).

                In what would be her best Bastila imitation ever, Revan puffed her chest out, squeezed her voice that few intervals higher, and boomed, “Don’t listen to him just because he’s a stupid Jedi!”

                Revan spent the next three days contemplating her words under the harsh Dantooine sun and the freezing Dantooine moon.

*****************

                The place: the Dantooine Jedi Academy training yard.  The culprits: Malak on the ground surrounded by knick knacks and Revan tucked inside an outcropping housing the cleaning droid... an outcropping which was ten feet above Malak.

                Pitter patter went a wrench after it nailed Revan on the head and fell back down.

                “Ouch!  Watch it, Malak!”

                “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

                “Hand me the bigger thingy.”

                “The wha?”

                “The thingy!  That thingy!”

                “You mean the vibroblade?”

                “Yeah, yeah.”

                “I dunno, Revan.  We’re going to get into serious trouble if someone sees us.”

                For the umpteenth time, Revan hung her head down and sighed.  She massaged the bridge of her nose and chose her next words carefully.  “Malak, what were we suppose to be doing?”

                “Cleaning the training yard?”

                “Yes, and what do we want to be doing?”

                He thought for a second.  “Not... not cleaning the training yard?”

                “Exactly.  So hand me the vibroblade, let me pry the droid door open, and I can program the thing so it does the work for us.”

                Shrugging, he tossed the sharp weapon up to his friend.  Revan let out a bloodcurdling scream as the blade flipped end over end before imbedding itself through the droid door... exactly two inches from her face.  Joy for them, no one heard her.

                “Hand, Malak!  Hand!  Which part of ‘hand’ don’t you understand?!”

                Geez.  Nice kid but a few cards short of a Pazaak deck.  After wiping the sweat off her brow, Revan caught an strange sound emanating from behind the droid door.

                “Dweet, dooo.  Dweet dweet.”

                Hmph, wonder what that was suppose to mean.

                “Droid under attack.  Initiate self-destruct sequence.”

                Oh, that’s what “Dweet, dooo.  Dweet dweet” meant.  The explosion blasted the door off its hinges and sent a slightly scorched Revan plummeting on top of Malak.  An alarm went off and Jedi flooded the training yard, lightsabers, blasters, and other impromptu weapons in hand. 

                Revan spent the next two weeks in the infirmary while Malak had a week to contemplate his actions under the harsh Dantooine sun and the freezing Dantooine moon.

*****************

                “Malak says he’s sorry.”

                Groggy from her medication, Revan nodded and slurred, “s’ok.”

                Honestly, how those two got into fiasco after fiasco Bastila had no idea.  Last time they set Master Vandar’s room on fire and today Malak almost flattened Revan by accidentally opening a crate of rations on top of her.

                Ever curious, Bastila cocked her head and asked, “What were you doing in the kitchen?”

                The muffled explanation didn’t make much sense, but she maintained eye contact and nodded like it did.  Her own master, Master Vrook, had been around the area and heard the loud crash.  According to him, he saw Malak frantically digging a twitching Revan out of the ration pile.  Only quick thinking and Force Healing snatched the blonde from the death.  Because Malak had to spend the next two weeks under the harsh Dantooine sun and the freezing Dantooine moon, he sent Bastila with his apologies.

                She had to wait until midnight to sneak into the infirmary.

                “Master Vrook says Master Jolee should keep a better eye on you.”

                Maybe it was the time of night or the meds, but Revan rolled her head in Bastila’s direction and mumbled, “Vrook’s a prissy prude.”

                Before she could stop herself, Bastila giggled.  She immediately felt bad, not only because she laughed at her Master but because Revan’s comment resonated so strongly with her.  Weren’t the Jedi above pettiness?  Master Vrook wasn’t the most agreeable person, but he was a fair and stern teacher.

                It’s just... sometimes, no matter what Bastila did and how well she did it, she couldn’t please Master Vrook.  His picky critiques kept her up more than one night, tears streaking down her face.  She followed his every demand, meditated as long as he wanted, and even stayed an arm’s length from her big brother (and by extension, Revan).  What did her adherence to his rules get her?  A whole fat load of nothing!

                Even in her semi-cognitive state, Revan sensed Bastila’s turmoil.  A few extra years of Jedi training and long hours with the ever mercurial Master Jolee gave her a talent to read people.  She covered Bastila’s trembling hand with her own and smiled.  “Whatcha sad fo’?  Masta Jolee said Jedi arr people too.”

                “But we’re not suppose to hate our Masters.”

                “Vrook’s stoopid.  Dun notice nuthin’.  Been holed up here too long...”

                Ok, medicine kicking in now.  Before she passed out, Revan hurriedly finished her last thought.  “Dun know he hasa smart gryl here.”

*****************

                Ahhh, Padawan.  Revan trained long and hard to achieve this rank and fall onto the bottom of the Jedi totem pole (as opposed to being the dirt the totem pole sat on).  Bastila and Malak were soooo jealous of her new sparkly lightsaber.  Goodbye kitchen chores and hello... housekeeping?

                “Hurry up!  I have to be at a Council meeting in thirty minutes.”

                “Master Jolee, I can clean faster with my hands.”

                The old man thwacked the back of her head with his datapad.  “The purpose of this exercise is to fine tune your Force abilities, not finish first!”

                “Wait, won’t I finish first because I’m the only one cleaning?”

                Another thwack.  “Less talk.  More work.”

                Revan rubbed her sore spot and refocused on making her Master’s bed.  Thankfully, he didn’t thwack her anymore, and upon completion, he nodded in approval.

                “You’ve got some real talent, Padawan.  Keep this up and every bar in the galaxy will want your cleaning services.”

                “Great,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “There is no emotion, there is only dirt...”

                Thwack!  “Don’t mock the Jedi code!”

                “Sorry.”

                “Now run along, youngster.  Your flunkies await you.”

                Wooohooo!  Freedom!  “Thank you, Master Jolee!”

                As she ran out the door, he shouted, “Don’t be late for tomorrow morning neither!”

                Around the bend and over the tables, through the corridor and past the yard, down the hill and across the field stood Bastila and Malak.  Master Vrook worried to no ends that his pupil associated herself with the Academy’s biggest troublemakers, but what Master Vrook didn’t know he didn’t have to hear about.  In Revan’s not-so-humble opinion, Bastila needed people who reinforced her self-esteem and let her cut loose.  Among the many things Master Jolee went on and on about, one of his biggest points was the balance of control and restraint.

                Control meant channeling emotions.  Restraint meant stifling them.  There was a time and a place for both, but to rely on one equated to walking on one leg: stupid and impossible.

                Funny how stupid and impossible summed up Vrook, the specialist in restraint.

                Malak put his big arm around Revan’s shoulder and squeezed her nose.  “Done for today?”

                “Done for today,” the blonde confirmed.  “Now, the townsmen tell you anything?”

                “Roving Kath Hounds, stolen datapad, lost child--the usual stuff.”

                Per her normal routine, Bastila folded her arms and frowned.  “Revan, Malak, we shouldn’t be out interfering in others’ affairs, especially without our Masters knowing.”

                Mimicking Malak’s moves, Revan threw her lanky arm around Bastila.  “Come on.  Great power, great responsibility and all that good stuff.  We’re righting wrongs and we’re getting experience!  We’re folk heroes, attending to the small things other Jedi don’t take their time to notice.”

                “I’m not comfortable with-”

                “Aww, Bastila, don’t rain on our parade!”  Revan lowered her voice and tempted, “Remember last time?  You’ll get to use your Battle Meditation.”

                Took the brunette two seconds to make her decision.  “Fine, but if we get caught, you guys dragged me along.”

                “Duly noted,” laughed Malak.  “Onward, Jedi!”

*****************

                Bastila liked meditating alone.  Sure, in theory one could meditate anywhere since it required tuning out one’s surroundings and focusing on intangible forms, but Bastila never felt comfortable being so vulnerable around others.  So, she did most of her quiet contemplation in her room or here, an hour’s walk from the Academy.

                And today, she had much to think about.

                Malak followed Revan’s ascent to Padawan, yet Bastila herself remained mired in Master Vrook’s training.  She heard praise about her command of the Force, about her Battle Meditation, about her prowess with the lightsaber, but the praise got her nothing.  More and more, Revan and Malak were traveling out of the Academy and living their own adventures.  They’d regale her with tales of desperate battles, heartbreaking tragedies, and uplifting triumphs.  They’d talk of different worlds and cultures, all just a few days apart.  They described how many throughout the galaxy held the Jedi in high-esteem and treated them almost like royalty.

                Stories like those could make a girl jealous.  Come on, she trained harder than either of those two buffoons and spent as much time here as Malak.  When could she go out and help the galaxy?  Wasn’t that what being a Jedi was all about?  What was the point of leaving her here to train for an eternity?  Seemed like Master Vrook didn’t have anything more to teach her, instead resorting to being annoyingly critical of her.

                Bastila, your left heel is out of position.

                Bastila, you are seated wrong.

                Bastila, your room is a mess.

                Bastila, spend about six hours meditating on top of the ten you just finished.

                Bastila this, Bastila that, Bastila’s wrong, Bastila lacks discipline, blah, blah, blah.

                Hmph.  He probably kept her around to feel better about himself.

                No, no, no, this won’t do.  Insulting her Master?  No, very bad.  Bad Bastila.  There is no emotion, there is peace.  There is no...

                “Forget it,” she sighed to herself.

                So much for meditation.  Bastila picked up a stick and started idly etching lines into the dirt.  All her life she wasn’t good enough--not good enough for her mother, not good enough for her father, not good enough for Master Vrook.  Only Malak and Revan made her feel good enough, and guess where they were?  Somewhere more interesting than the stupid Dantooine sun and the crappy Dantooine moon.

                Being a Jedi would be a lot easier if once in a while someone told her “Good job” or “Thanks” or “You’re awesome.”  That led Bastila to think about Malak and Revan’s rank, which brought her down the road of Master Vrook’s stubbornness, and well... yeah, thinking in circles again.

                She threw her branch into the bushes.  A dull thud and angry growling startled her.  Soon, the growls grew, and all around gleaming red eyes began to appear and track her movements.

                “Kath Hounds,” she gasped while fumbling for her lightsaber.

                Then the dark realization hit her: she forgot her weapon at the Academy.  The beasts smelled her heightened fear and stepped into view.  Five hounds, all foaming from the mouth, all looking like they hadn’t eaten in days.  She fought Kath Hounds before, but today, their claws seemed extra sharp, their movements a hint faster, and their visages much more sinister.

                All at once, they jumped at her, each hoping to be the first to taste fresh food.  Bastila summoned the Force and used it to augment her jump.  She sailed above her predators, but a lucky swipe caught her leg and sent her tumbling to the ground.  The one in the back howled and closed in for the easy kill, but a simple Force Push threw him into his pack.

                Now would’ve been a good time to run, but Bastila landed funny and did something bad to her already bloodied leg.  As she struggled to stand, the Kath Hounds moved to surround her, now convinced this prey might not be as easy as they had imagined.

                One of Master Vrook’s lessons echoed through Bastila’s mind: “Never let the enemy truly surround you.  Let them think they do, but always leave someone off-balance.  Whether escape or attack, your next move should stem from the weakened front.”

                She used the Force Push again, this time knocking the biggest hound to the ground.  The sudden move surprised the others, and they backed off to let their pack leader recover.  She bought herself time, but time to do what?  She had one good leg, no lightsaber, and five Kath Hounds after her.  A mind trick, perhaps?  A Force shield?  Maybe they’ll stop bothering her-

                An impatient beast shunned the pack tactics and soared at her.  Caught in her panicked thoughts, Bastila couldn’t protect herself,instead  resorting to throwing her hands around her face and screaming.  She braced for impact--and death--but it never came.  A split second later, she heard the hound cry out and fall; the familiar sound of a lightsaber filled her ears.

                When she managed to pry her eyes open, three of the five Kath Hounds were already dead.  The remaining two looked to be going that way.  With viciousness and grace Revan never displayed in any of their escapades, she twirled her lightsaber around, beheaded one monster, and threw her weapon at the big pack leader.  Bastila thought her friend missed, but when the thing shuddered and split in half, let’s just say she didn’t.

                Scared and spent, Bastila collapsed, but lithe arms caught her and laid her down.  She felt Revan drawing on the Force, and suddenly, the shooting pain in her leg dissipated.  Wind against her open wound stopped stinging.  If her racing her heart would slow down and her eyes would stop watering, then she’d feel pretty close to a hundred percent.

                “Bastila, did they hurt you anywhere else?”

                She shook her head.  “N... no.  Th... tha... thank you, Revan.”

                The Padawan held her, softly whispering encouragement and assurances.  “What were you doing here?” she asked.

                “Meditating,” Bastila answered, her voice steadying.  “Wanted to be alone.”

                “If I had to see Master Vrook as much as you, I’d want to be alone too.”

                Despite herself, Bastila laughed.  She wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled at Revan.  “Thank you, Revan.  I really mean it.”

                “Just... be more careful next time, ok?”

                Odd.  The bubbly, mischievous, air headed Revan made a disappearing act.  Insecurity and fear marred this Revan; for a Jedi who saved the day, she looked too distraught.  Wasn’t often Bastila laughed before the blonde and all this angsty stuff dragged Bastila down. 

                Well, at least it worried her.

                “Revan, what’s wrong?”

                Silly girl wouldn’t show her face and turned her head away.  “Nothing,” she muttered, “You won’t understand.”

                She tried to extract herself from Bastila, but the brunette would have none of it.  “You’re not getting away that easy.  Come on, what’s wrong with you?  One second you’re my Jedi Knight with shining saber and the next you’re acting like Malak.”

                Revan opened her mouth, thought better of her next statement (a rather heartless dig against her absent best friend), closed her mouth, then opened it again when her brain caught up.  The overall effect made her look like a fish out of water, and for some reason, Bastila found it endearing.  Endearing and very, very funny.

                The clueless expression turned into a frown.  “Hey!” Revan shouted with not a small bit of indignation, “Don’t laugh!  You almost died!  I could’ve lost you if I came back any later and you know I-”

                Weirder and weirder.  Bastila raised a brow.  “I know you what?”

                Tearing herself from those soul-searching eyes, Revan left the brunette all alone and stomped off.  Not to be outdone, Bastila picked herself up and darted after her friend, who for a big, sulking baby stomped quite fast.  Winded and appropriately worked up, Bastila spun Revan around and prepared to give her a good lecture lifted from the most infuriating pages of Master Vrook’s tomes.

                That was before Revan pressed her lips against Bastila’s.

*****************

                “Master Jolee, you can’t leave!”

                The old man grunted but continued putting things away, his once overstuffed, messy room reduced to a sterile emptiness.  He acknowledged his apprentice but ignored her comments, focused instead on packing.

                “The Jedi Council was wrong,” she seethed, hoping to get a response from her Master, “They can’t do this to you.  They weren’t there!”

                “Revan, hand me my satchel.”

                The dutiful student complied but continued her fuming.  “Just because you used Force Lightn-”

                “Enough,” he cut her off.  “The Jedi Council has spoken.  As a young Jedi, you shouldn’t question the decision of those wiser than you.”

                “The man killed your brother and his family!”

                “Listen to me, Revan, and hear me well because I will not repeat myself.  All these years, I’ve taught you as best I can, and my goal was not make you the best Jedi, but rather the best person.  Sometimes, the ends do not justify the means, and when you cross the line, you have to be a good enough person to accept your punishment and move on.  I made a mistake, especially by dragging you along, and I have to accept my punishment.”

                “But-”

                “No excuses, Revan.  Foolish pride and pitiful excuses have caused the universe’s greatest tragedies.  Your duty as a Jedi--as a living being--is to hold yourself accountable for all of your actions.  Do you understand?”

                “What if-”

                “Do you understand?!”

                The blonde fell silent and nodded.

                “Good.  Help me carry my books.”

                As the last of his things went into the ship, Revan hugged her erstwhile Master.  “Where will you go, Master Jolee?”

                “Away.  Somewhere quiet like Kashyyyk.”

                “Kashyyyk?  Why Kashyyyk?”

                The old man shrugged.  “I like Wookiees.”

*****************

                Great news: Bastila finally made Padawan.  With the combined voices of Master Zhar, Master Vandar, and the scores of townspeople the three of them helped back in the day, Bastila pushed her Master to acknowledge her status.  Guess the old windbag had no more excuses to hold her back and acquiesced.

                That’s why Revan and Malak were speeding back from Telos.  Wouldn’t do to miss Bastila’s big moment.

                Bastila...

                Locked in hyperspace, Revan dozed in the plush pilot’s chair, daydreaming.  She brushed her lips and thought back to that fateful day.  The kiss changed their relationship, turning it from a sibling connection to a romantic passion.  Officially, Jedi weren’t suppose to feel so strongly, especially with each other.  Lure of the Dark Side and all that, but Revan was sure Bastila had nothing to do with the Dark Side.  If neither party held any interest in the Sith then neither had a chance of giving in to temptation, right?  Besides, wasn’t love a beautiful, redeeming thing?  Weren’t the Sith against beauty and redemption?

                Yes, yes, and yes, but neither Revan nor Bastila were quite ready to shout about their union from the highest point of the Academy.  For the moment, they kept their relationship quiet, reveling in a secret only they were privy to.  Less complications that way.  Would you imagine what Master Vrook would say if he found out?  Not a good picture.

                Still, Revan sighed, at peace and content.  She always thought the Jedi Code didn’t suit her, but now, after finding herself an anchor, it resonated with her.  Her Force powers grew exponentially; her decision making process excelled; her focus became unparalleled.  So fast her advancement that she heard rumblings of the Jedi Council considering her to become the youngest Jedi Knight ever.

                Of course she looked forward to returning home, but the joy of seeing Bastila warmed her heart.  If she played her cards right, Bastila might even be allowed to accompany Malak and herself on their journeys.  Now that would be a sight...

                “Wake up, sleepy head.”

                Revan bolted up in her chair and glanced at Malak.  He seemed... off.  Nervous.  She checked the ship--no attackers, no instrument problems, and still hours away from Dantooine.

                “Uhhh, where’s the fire?”

                Malak shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat.  “Revan, I need to tell you something.”

                This couldn’t be good.  Malak had strange but consistent mannerisms accompanying whatever he said and Revan knew every one of them by heart.  The shifting foot to foot meant news but the clearing of the throat meant urgent.  Times before, these two gestures played harbinger to horrible developments like Master Jolee’s dismissal and him breaking (Yes, BREAKING) her lightsaber.

                Revan repeated what her brain already told her.  “Oy, this can’t be good.”

                “No, no, no,” he said.  “I wanted to... to...”

                “Spit it out, Malak.  You know there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

                He motioned for her to stand up, which she did.  He cup his hands around hers, which she found strange but let slide.

                “How long have we known each other?”

                Revan threw her head back and laughed.  “My my, at least ten years.”

                “And all that time, I’ve wanted to tell you one thing, but I never got the courage.  I still don’t have the courage now, so I’ll have to show you instead.”

                He leaned in and expected to feel Revan’s soft lips on his, but he got a bunch of hair.  That and an earlobe.

                “No,” Revan said, removing herself from Malak.  “We... I... just no.  No, no, no, no.”

                Talk about falling on your face.  Between the surprise, Malak managed a feeble, “Why?”

                “There’s someone else.”

                Someone else?  “Someone else?!  Who else is there, Revan?  Are you just lying to me because you don’t want to hurt my feelings?!”

                “No, Malak, there is someone else.”

                “How?  Who?!”

                There is no emotion, there is peace.  There is no chaos, there is serenity.  “Calm yourself.  This is no way for a Jedi to act.”

                “I am calm!” he shouted, smashing his fist against the bulkhead.  “We’re practically joined at the hip!  After your Master left, there is no other man in your life!”

                Fuck serenity.  “You are not my life!”

                “Tell me who is!”

                In a fit of rage, she let it slip.  “It’s Bastila, ok?!”

*****************

                “Do you love her?”

                “I do, Malak, with all my heart.”

                Seated at the Academy training yard, Malak bowed his head.  What a tangled web: wanting the same woman his sister loved.  He could see a million ways of breaking them up, but he couldn’t do something like that to Revan or Bastila.  Revenge wasn’t the Jedi way, nor was harming those closest to you.  To make matters worse, the blonde had avoided him for a solid month, always having to be somewhere he wasn’t.  His sister hurt for them both since she became their go-between, and today, she said as much.

                Brother and sister came together, and for the first time in a long while, not joined by Revan.  She’d become more than family to them, and to not have her here just didn’t feel right.  Bastila approached Malak with a plea for peace; Malak steered the conversation to Bastila’s feelings. 

                And now that Bastila’s affections were sufficiently hammered home, they had to finish about Revan.

                “Do you... hate her?”

                “No,” sighed Malak.  “She is my greatest friend, and I would much rather have her friendship than nothing at all.”

                From ten feet above where the cleaning droid was housed, Revan jumped out and pounced onto Malak’s unsuspecting back.  He ended up on his face while she sat on him.  “Then it’s settled!” she shouted triumphantly.  She hopped up and extended her helping hands to him.  “Friends again?” she smirked.

                After spitting out the dirt in his mouth, Malak grunted and accepted the gesture.  “Friends, but only if you stop landing on me like that.”

                “I don’t know.  That’s something I can’t promise.”  Bastila decked Revan on the back of the head.  “Ouch!  Fine, I promise.  Sheesh Jedi  Princess, you happy?”

                Bastila smiled sweetly and decked Revan again just for fun.

- To be continued...

Chapter 3:  The Rare and Radiant Maiden

                This wasn’t good.  This was very, extremely, enormously bad.

                See, the Republic liked the Jedi (mostly) and the Jedi liked the Republic (mostly), and every so often, they’d have a small get-together to spread the good feelings around.  Senator So-and-So, meet Master What’s-His-Face.  Master Whozzat, meet Royal Pain-in-the-Butt.  Whether on a planet or in space, people always made a grand production of it.  This time, the Republic just completed a new luxury cruiser and wanted to show it off to their Jedi friends.

                Enter Master Vrook, Padawan Bastila, newly minted Jedi Knights Revan and Malak, and an entourage of other Jedi folk.  Between fending off lecherous politicians and feasting on absolutely sinful food, Bastila had quite an interesting time.  With everything going well, the promise of alone time with Revan only enhanced the evening.

                Until the Sith showed up, en masse.

                Wouldn’t you know it, the navigator turned out to be a Sith spy.  Waiters?  Sith troopers.  Hidden in the cargo bay?  Dark Jedi.  Oh, and guess who reprogrammed all the droids?  Wasn’t a Jedi, that’s for sure.  Despite being deep in Republic territory, a few Sith ships managed to circle the luxury cruiser and pelt it with missiles.

                What a way to ruin an evening.  At least Master Vrook was more than up to the challenge to defend the ship.

                “Captain, deploy the few defensive fighters you have and send your security forces to deal with the troopers.  Jedi Revan and Malak, make your way to control room in the lower decks and disable the rogue droids.  Bastila, stay here in the bridge and aid us with your Battle Meditation.  Extend your focus to the Republic ships too.  The rest of Jedi, we will battle the Fallen.”

                Revan flashed a comforting wink at Bastila before disappearing out the door.  Master Vrook gave a few more words of encouragement before leaving via the elevator.  That left Bastila alone on a chaotic bridge, people looking at the captain for guidance and the captain staring at the lone remaining Jedi.

                “Well?” puffed Bastila, “What are all of you waiting for?  You heard Master Vrook!”

                That got them going.  Bastila planted herself on a chair and proceeded to call upon her greatest ability.  Uncertainty snaked through her--she’d never extended herself this much.  A ship?  Yes.  Ten to twenty people?  Of course.  But to envelope this cruiser AND the fighters outside?  Difficult, if not impossible.

                Still, the Jedi needed her.  The Republic needed her.  Revan needed her and she would never fail Revan.

                Minutes passed and the ship’s shuddering from missile hits lessened.  Panicked cries for help over the radio became infrequent.  Whispers of victory made its way through the ranks.

                “The Jedi have saved us!”

                “The Sith don’t stand a chance!”

                “It’s a miracle!  A miracle!”

                Success!  She helped turn the tide! 

                But then, a sudden lance of fear struck her.  She tried to ignore it and continue her Battle Meditation, but it wouldn’t go away.  A nagging voice in her mind told her Revan needed help, but how?  How did she know?  She couldn’t just up and leave when the fight was starting to go their way. 

                Again the fear struck, this time tinted by pain.  A faint scream hammered at her resolve, a scream she knew belonged to Revan.

                Revan...

                To the surprise of the bridge crew, Bastila broke her meditation and sprinted for the door.  Control room, lower decks, now.  She used the Force to aid her running, racing past blaster fire and murderous droids.  Forgoing the stairs, she jumped.  Where was the control room?  Where to stop?  Bastila wasn’t sure, but Revan’s desperateness grew closer.

                There!  The brunette snared a railing.  Lightsaber on lightsaber clashes emanated from the corridor.  Bastila pulled herself up and continued her dead sprint.  Destroyed machines littered the well lit passageway, proof of Malak and Revan’s presence.  Streaks of blood began appearing along with occasional corpses--one of them even held a lightsaber.

                Didn’t take long for her to stumble onto the battle site.

                Three Dark Jedi wielding their trademark red lightsabers surrounded Revan.  Her bloody left arm hung loosely at her side while her right hand gripped  her weapon.  A long, angry burn mark blazed across her midsection, exposing charred skin.  Sweat and blood matted down her blonde hair and she looked to have trouble breathing, let alone standing and fighting.  Around her lay four dead bodies in various states of mangledness, all of them Dark Jedi.  There was a fifth body, but it still moved.  Revan stood protectively over that one, her eyes darting from enemy to enemy as if daring the survivors to attack.

                Bastila didn’t understand Revan’s actions until the body convulsed and the head rolled in her direction.  Those eyes... she recognized those eyes because they were the only things to recognize. 

                Malak.  Her dear, loving brother lay dying, blood all over his face, his jaw missing, his upper teeth showing like a freak show.  And for the first time, Bastila saw Malak cry.

                Her lightsaber exploded to life as she dove at the Dark Jedi, a rage unlike any other consuming her.  The Republic, the Jedi, her Master, the entire ship could go to hell.  Revan and Malak needed her, and nothing else mattered.

*****************

                “An entire Republic cruiser.  Gone.”

                No one dared to say a word.

                “Twelve of your Jedi brothers.  Dead.”

                Bastila couldn’t meet her Master’s gaze.

                “I gave you an order, Padawan Bastila Shan.  Tell the Council what that order was.”

                She breathed to still her nerves.  “Stay in the bridge and aid everyone with Battle Meditation.”

                “What did you do?”

                “I went to the aid of Jedi Revan and my brother.”

                The audience broke into murmurs.  Master Vandar raised his hand and all the talking stopped.  “Continue,” he said to Master Vrook.

                Man, did he ever continue.  “Congratulations, Padawan.  You saved both Jedi Revan and Malak, but let me ask you: how did you know these two accomplished Jedi needed your assistance?”

                “I... I....”

                “Yes, Padawan?”

                “I sensed Jedi Revan’s distress.”

                “Your brother gets his jaw cleaved off and you feel Jedi Revan’s distress?”

                “I just did,” Bastila curtly said, more curtly than she wanted to.

                “Interesting, Padawan Shan.  I sensed a good deal of dark emotions in you just now.  Could you explain yourself?”

                From the back of audience, Revan stood up and shouted, “That’s dewback’s dung, you old windbag!”

                “Enough, Jedi Revan,” Master Vandar scolded, “return to your seat.”

                “No,” retorted the blonde, walking toward the Council, “Master Vrook is baiting Bastila, trying to set her off-balance so she’ll disgrace herself.”

                “A Jedi is above baiting,” Vrook noted, “especially any apprentice of mine.”

                “Rubbish and you know it!  You’ve done a terrible job training Bastila, and now you’re punishing her for your failings as a Master!”

                His mouth twisted in amusement, Master Vrook dipped his head and said, “Tell me how I’ve failed, Jedi Revan.  Perhaps I may learn something from you yet.”

                “When did you ever give her a word of encouragement?” hissed Revan, livid beyond her wildest dreams.  “All these years she lived under your strict guidelines, never garnering a measure of your approval.  She is a living, breathing person, and you showed her no emotion, only that damned indifference of yours!”

                “This is no emotion, Jedi Revan.  Have you forgotten your teachings so quickly?”

                “Fuck the Jedi Code!  Emotion drives us to do what we feel is right.  Emotion drives us to continue living each day.  The Jedi Code was created to calm a person’s mind in trying times, not as a creed to treat others with.  You used your damned interpretation of the Jedi Code to drive Master Jolee away, and now you’re turning it on your own apprentice. 

                “We align ourselves with the Light Side not out of indifference, but out of compassion for others.  How are your actions compassionate?  How did you even teach Bastila when you gave her no moral compass to work with?  How are you helping her now?  You taught her to be an instrument of the Force and nothing else.  She is more than an instrument, and you’ve forgotten that.  As a Master, as one who guides others, you have failed!”

                A feather dropping would’ve made a sound.  Every word she said defiled their way of life, but yet, a certain grain of truth filtered through.  Young Jedi, too scared to show their support, glanced at each other privately wondering if their neighbor harbored any agreement to Revan’s speech.  The Jedi Masters glared in disapproval, their authority never so challenged.

                Master Vrook looked like he’d won a war.  “I can see now that we were right to remove Jedi Jolee from our ranks.”  He dismissively pointed at Revan.  “This is the kind of Jedi he mentored?  One who doesn’t understand that the Force is what is behind our actions, not our emotions?  Unbelievable. 

                “But you are correct, Jedi Revan.  As a Master, I have failed Bastila, and you have showed me why.  I allowed her to mingle with you, to have you undermine my teachings before they had a chance to take hold.  Any other apprentice would have accepted her Master’s commands and been the stabilizing presence in a sea of chaos.  Instead, through your influence on Bastila, you made her susceptible to illogical decisions and selfish actions.”

                Nodding to himself, Vrook circled Revan like a shark.  “Tell me, Jedi Revan, how did you contact my apprentice?”

                Revan’s turn to be stunned and she stepped back to distance herself from Vrook.  “I don’t know,” she quietly admitted.

                “You don’t know?” he asked, incredulous.  “How could you not know?  I see you are telling the truth, but how did you not know?  Is there a darker, more sinister explanation?  Have you by any chance... fallen to the Dark Side?”

                “No she hasn’t!”

                Everyone turned their attention back to a now standing Bastila.  “I made a decision on the Republic ship.  I disobeyed Master Vrook’s command and I will accept whatever repercussions he deems fit.  Don’t tarnish Revan’s name because she wanted to stand up for me.  She is the kindest being I know.  She could never fall to the Dark Side.”

                “Your responsibility has never been in question,” said Vrook, “but I will not relent on Jedi Revan’s questionable mindset.  The bevy of emotions shown today, the horrendous misunderstandings of our teachings, her dubious pedigree, and now this mysterious connection to Bastila are too much to ignore.  Nothing can explain-”

                “I love her,” Bastila interrupted.  “I love Revan,” she repeated, this time with conviction, “These past few months, I’ve grown incredibly close to her.  I thought it was funny how she finished my sentences and how I said what was exactly on her mind.  Wasn’t until that day on the cruiser did I realize our bond extended beyond merely two people in love.  I heard her cry out in pain, Master Vrook.  I felt her fear.  I felt her desperation.  I can feel her now, how much she cares about me and how much she hurts to see me like this.

                “There is no darkness in our connection.  I love Revan, and she loves me.  That is all.”

*****************

                Revan couldn’t sleep.  The Jedi Council spent a whole week deliberating behind closed doors.  Word of her explosion flooded Academy halls and strange stories hatched from all corners.  Last she checked the rumor mill, Malak had seduced her to seduce Bastila to get back at Master Vrook for punishing him and somehow or another almost killing him, hence the lost jaw.

                The story made no sense but that didn’t stop people from talking.

                Worse still, Master Vrook put Bastila under lock and key, posting two guards with her at all times with the explicit to keep Revan away.  The rationale?  Didn’t want Revan spreading her corruption if indeed she was corrupted.  Of course, at the very mention of corruption, everyone treated her like a pariah. 

                Don’t touch Revan or she’ll turn you into a freakin’ ewok!

                What a load of crap.

                On the flip side, being separated from Bastila left Revan plenty of time to explore the bond between them.  Evidently, Bastila also did some exploring too, because if the blonde focused hard enough, she felt Bastila reaching back.  Nothing big yet, no exchanges of complex thought or anything, but the tiny brush with her love eased her spirit and steeled her for whatever awaited around the corner.

*****************

                “Two weeks, Malak.”

                He gripped Revan’s hand and affectionately squeezed.

                “I really did it this time, calling Master Vrook an old windbag.”

                He rolled his eyes and shrugged.  Laughter proved to be a painful, pitiful, and embarrassing endeavor, so he tried his best to not get too worked up.  Calling Master Vrook an old windbag?  Classic stuff and something he wished he had the courage to say.  Funny too, and for now, he tried to avoid funny.  Damn her for that lovable big mouth. 

                The lack of speech and clear effort to stifle boisterous giggles pushed Revan to tears, and she turned away.  Malak sat up in his bed and forced her to look at him.  They didn’t speak, but the soft, caring gleam in Malak’s eyes said all he needed to say.  He brought his hand up and wiped away the tears.

                “Malak,” she cried, hugging him fiercely, “I’m so sorry.”

                Hesitantly, he returned the hug; a few seconds later, he even patted her on the back.  They stayed like that for who knows how long, Revan heaving dry sobs and Malak the quiet rock.  Mumbled apologies, promises of vengeance, even self-defamation tumbled out of Revan’s mouth, but no matter how much Malak wanted to contradict her, he couldn’t.

                Unable to go on, Revan lifted herself from Malak.  She traced his face with her finger, making sure to caress the metal plate where his jaw used to be.

                “Thank you,” she whispered.

                He nodded.

                “Your vocalizer is coming in tomorrow,” she smiled sadly, “I’ll get to hear you again and you’ll get to tell me what an idiot I am.”

                Watching the harsh Dantooine sun set and the freezing Dantooine moon rise, they sat in companionable silence.

*****************

                Three weeks and the Academy was just about bursting at the seams.  Jedi who had other places to be (and some who didn’t) went away to escape the escalating tension.  Younger residents milled about aimlessly, their minds focused on the Council’s long and unexplained meeting.  Rumors got bigger.  To some, Revan’s rebellious outburst became a battle cry that pointed out everything wrong with the Jedi’s rigid, disciplined way of life.  To others, she embodied their worst fear, a respected Jedi on the verge of falling.

                Yet Revan faced the tidal wave of drama as only a true Jedi Master could.  Like clockwork, she woke, trained, ate, visited Malak, and returned to her room.  Every word slid off of her, every attack she deflected.  She accept neither praise nor curses and refused to confirm or deny anything.  The very Jedi Code many thought she derided kept her steadfast. 

                The Code.  Her shield.

                And every afternoon to the wee hours of the morning, she forged her armor--the one only Bastila could temper. 

                What began as a vague glimmer of the other’s emotions grew into a full fledged, “I see you and you see me” mental connection.  Thoughts flowed between them like water; didn’t even need the good meditative state anymore.  If possible, their love grew during their separation.  The want for affection turned into the need for affection as they increasingly relied on each other’s strength to carry them through the dark days.

                Us against the world: the world didn’t stand a chance.

                Their bond.  Their sanctuary.

                *Something bad is about to happen.*

                Laying twisted like a pretzel on her bed, Revan shrugged and tucked her arms under her head.  *Something bad already did happen--it’s called Master Vrook.*

                *Be serious.  The Force, it’s not right.*

                *The Force is never right, Bastila.  There’s always a disturbance, a shipwreck, or a dark presence looming around it.  If it was right, we Jedi would be out of a job.*

                The brunette sighed.  *You Guardians are all the same.  Hand you a lightsaber and watch you smash things.*

                *Grrrrr, I smash good.*

                *Revan!  Stop joking around!  There’s something not right about this entire situation.*

                *Let me count the ways: three weeks of the Jedi Council talking, people eyeing us like we’ve become ewoks, we can’t even see each-*

                A sharp, sudden pain in the arm startled Revan, and, thanks to her small bed and bad posture, she thumped onto the floor.  *What was that?!* she groaned as she rubbed her head and lumbered back onto the bed.

                *You felt me?*

                *I felt something, and if that was your disturbance in the Force, I am not impressed.*

                *Well, you were being such a dumb-dumb head that I just wished I could reach over and pinch you real good.*

                Revan rolled up her sleeve in time to witness a red welt slowly turn dark into a bruise.  *So now we can touch each other too?*  A mischievous grin broke out on her face, and Bastila knew the gears were turning in the blonde’s head.

                *I know that look and it’s always followed by trouble.*

                Not replying, the blonde imagined tickling Bastila.  She pictured uncontrollable laughter as her fingers mercilessly assault that little spot under the brunette’s ribs.  Bastila’s greatest weakness, and one both Revan and Malak exploited for their nefarious purposes during their childhood.

                In the gilded prison that was her own room, Bastila keeled over to stop her traitorous body; her valiant effort lasted all but five seconds.  She whooped and gasped and laughed, unable to control herself or clear her mind.  Of course, Revan, encouraged by success, continued further... until she herself felt the onset of a tickling.

                *Won’t work, my Princess,* she snickered.  *I’m not ticklish.*

                Around the stomach, under her arms, on the neck--no reaction.  In the interest of vengeance and stopping her torture, Bastila cupped Revan’s breasts and was rewarded with a burst of surprise and arousal.  Once her brain recovered, however, the formerly smart idea soured into utter mortification for Bastila.  They’d made out before, but this?  Psychic sex?  This wasn’t right.  This was so very wrong on so many different levels.

                Revan gasped.  She moaned when the pressure on her breasts retreated.  *Bastila...*

                *I’m sorry!* gushed the brunette, her cheeks more reddened from embarrassment than laughter, *I don’t know what I was thinking and I just wanted you to stop so I started touching you because you said that once it made you lose control and ohnoohno I’m so-*

                *Bastila,* whispered the husky voice.  Revan reached out and imagined Bastila at her fingertips, the silky smooth skin, the heady perfume she bought from that merchant in town, the strong pulse, the perfect figure.  *I’ve missed seeing you so much.*

                *I’ve missed you too, but-*

                *Do you feel good?*  She imagined her hands roaming, teasing, exploring every inch of that sinful flesh.

                Bastila sucked in a breath, taken back by the abrupt about face.  *Yessss,* she answered, sending her pleasure out to Revan...

                ... Which excited and egged the blonde on.  *Amazing,* she said in awe, *I feel you, and I feel me touching you.  This... this is...*

                *Not another word,* Bastila hushed.  She let her imagination wander, creating those things she was too inhibited to try in real life.  Revan whimpered--unRevan-like, but satisfying to the ears.  Excitement welled up in the women, mutual arousal feeding into each other in an unending cycle. 

                They started to sweat.  They quickened the pace.  They grasped at their bond and widened it to reflect all the sensations, to magnify every ounce of pleasure, to finally lose themselves in their love.  Their hands caressed their own bodies, but those were mere extensions making real what their minds had already accepted.  Their breaths shortened.  They blurred together into a nebulous being fed by two spirits.  For a glorious moment, Revan was Bastila and Bastila was Revan.  Together, they sought release, release from the oppressive world, from the troubles, from the Force they could not control. 

                It didn’t take long. 

                They cried out each others’ names.

*****************

                *REVAN!*

                The woman bolted up in her bed, lightsaber at the ready.  Pre-dawn, no sun, yet the Academy hummed with life.  *Bastila, are you-*

                Thoughts swamped Revan’s mind.  Guards--fellow friends--barging into Bastila’s room, directed by Master Vrook.  “You punishment has been set.”  No explanation.  Hauling her away like a criminal.  Fear.  Hurt.  Betrayal.  Hope for safety.  Hope for Revan.

                She made it out the door before something caused Bastila to lose consciousness.  Her peace shattered, Revan flew in her love’s general direction.  She didn’t stop to notice anything until she rounded the corner and smashed into a shirtless, saber wielding Malak.

                “They have Bastila,” the blonde said frantically, desperation and maybe even insanity creeping through her.

                Malak summoned his command of the Force to quell Revan’s mind.  He used his superior strength to hold her in place.  “I know,” he said, “The Council made its decision and they’re going to break your bond.  Vrook got to my sister before me and others are coming for you.”

                “I have to save Bastila!”

                “What are you going to do?!” he hissed, slamming her against the wall to knock some sense into her. “Are you going to fight Vrook?  The whole Jedi Council?  Maybe the entire Academy?”

                “This isn’t right!  This isn’t justice!”

                Reluctantly, Malak let go.  “It’s not justice, but it’s reality.  I want to save Bastila just as much as you, but how are two Jedi suppose to accomplish this?  Revan, I’ll support you whatever you choose, but please, calm yourself before you decide.”

                As the emotions fluttered away, Revan looked into her friend’s eyes and saw sadness born from helplessness.  Shouts of “This way!” and “She’s not in her room!” rung through her ears, tearing at her faith in the Jedi like a rabid Kath Hound.  Malak’s jaw gleamed in the pale light, reminding her of the trust he put in her, of the sacrifices he’d made for her.

                She couldn’t hurt him, not again.  She couldn’t leave Bastila, not like this.

                But it was better to run and fight another day.  The Jedi, they wouldn’t, they just couldn’t kill Bastila.  It wasn’t their way, but then again, rousing members of their own rank from their sleep to subject them to mental punishment wasn’t their way either.

                *Bastila, my Princess, be strong.  As long as I breathe, I will come for you.*

                A faint, almost imperceptible *Revan* pulsed through their bond once more before a wall came down between them.  Bastila was there, alive, but now unreachable.  Felt like watching her through a visual transmission, watching her suffer horrors but not being able to her.  The blonde punched against the barrier to no avail. 

                The voices of other Jedi got closer.

                “The hangar,” she whispered to Malak, “We can still escape.”

                *Bastila, forgive me.*

                Silence.

- To be continued...

Chapter 4:  Angel’s Exodus

                Later, stories would paint them at the helm of the Republic’s great fleet, resplendent battle cruisers, gunships, and state-of-the-art fighters following their every command.  Stories, like their storytellers, were full of shit.  Mandalorians besieged the Outer Rim, and the Republic, stretched thin from war, could only afford to send pitiful sacrifices to slow the attackers.  Cries for Jedi assistance met the usual caution and detached wisdom, straining their relations to the fullest.

                Revan and Malak stumbled into this powder keg.  Two noted Jedi Knights in exile.  The Republic desperate for help.  With nothing to lose, the two sides came together.

                Revan and Malak needed a force to return to Dantooine and rescue Bastila.  They sensed the tension and swooped in to offer their services.  They conveniently left out the part about them not being accepted as Jedi anymore.  Kill invaders, turn ships around, get Bastila, return ships.  Simple enough.

                The Republic needed anything to stem the Mandalorian tide.  It sensed two willing pawns and outfitted them with the best it could afford.  It conveniently left out the part about the best it could afford being beat up junkers, converted freighters, and green soldiers.  Meet invaders, hold them back for a little while, come up with better solution, Jedi sacrifice noted.  Simple enough.

                Neither party complained about inconsistencies.

*****************

                “Master Jolee.”

                He almost fell out of his chair.  That voice!  “Revan?”

                His student, the woman he considered his daughter, kneeled at the edge of his abode.  With her head down, Jolee didn’t get too good a look at her, but the rigid posture, dirtied clothes, and dulled blonde hair told him of her troubles.  Her friend, Malak, was nowhere to be seen.

                Long, quick steps placed him towering over her but she wouldn’t look up.

                “Get up, kid.  You’re too young to be feeling like the universe is out to get you.”  She wouldn’t budge.  “Up with you!  I know I’m old but I don’t look that bad, do I?”

                “I failed you, Master Jolee,” she cried.  “I’ve failed everything you’ve ever taught me.  I didn’t take responsibility for my actions.  I’m not a good person.  I’m not even a Jedi anymore.  I’m nothing but a mercenary.  I’m sorry, Master Jolee.”

                No longer a Jedi?  Boy, had he been out of the loop.  “Unless I’ve grown senile, this isn’t the Academy and I’m not your master.  Dry your tears and get up.”

                “No.  I don’t deserve to look upon you.  You need to know how your worthless student turned out before she leaves for her death.”

                Just one crisis after another, wasn’t it?  “Look at me!”  He shouted so loud the surrounding wildlife ran.  “Look at me!”

                She shuddered and looked.  Her formerly radiant green eyes held a shade of gray.  Gone the youthful, mischievous face.  Her lips pressed thin into a permanent frown. 

                “What has happened to you, child?” he asked as he forced her to stand.

                “I told you-”

                “Your spirit is dimmed.  You look like someone killed your pet.  Now you’re going to face your death?  Who did this to you?  What can I do?”

                And the sordid tale poured out.  The Republic ship.  Bastila.  Vrook.  The exodus.  The Mandalorians.  The deadly gamble to retrieve Bastila. The Republic’s sorry state.   Malak went on ahead to the Outer Rim battlefields while Revan insisted on detouring to Kashyyyk, her one final act of absolution before jumping into the fire.

                Jolee listened but showed no emotion.  By the end of Revan’s account, he set a plate of food in front of her and prepared to spin his own story, one which he hoped would save the young girl he raised.

                He rubbed his weathered chin and measured his words.  “Kashyyyk hides a great secret.  Have you heard of the Star Maps?”

*****************

                Some days, they were commanders.  Revan inspired courage in the troops.  Malak contributed his battle tactics.  They liberally used the Force, putting ace pilots to sleep and playing mind games on ground units.

                Some days, they were warriors.  Key positions, stealth assaults, defensive holdouts--so deadly their lightsabers that by the end of the first grueling year, the most hardened Mandalorian warriors cringed at the sight of their weapons.

                They grew strong, powerful, and wise, but they weren’t enough.  The Republic, content at the invaders’ slowed progress, contributed fewer and fewer resources to the war.  The Jedi... no one heard from the Jedi.  Despite great success, Revan slowly lost the war of attrition.

                Farmers and merchants filled the ranks of lost soldiers.  Lost ships were never replaced.  Ammunition ran scarce.  The soldiers fought for their planets, but even their spirit dwindled at the alarming losses and lack of assistance.  Meanwhile, the Mandalorians grew stronger, more brutal.  They made armor to withstand dated weapons.  They threw themselves at Revan and Malak to distract and hopefully kill them.  They tortured prisoners and sent the broken innocents back to their planets to serve as warnings.

                This all changed when Revan and Malak discovered the Star Forge.  The great complex contained technologies beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.  For the first time, they could replenish themselves, even man them completely with drones.  The entire automated process responded to Revan’s calls like an offspring.  Cheers erupted from the weary Republic forces when the first ships floated out of the Star Forge.  No more pathetic conditions.  No more space deathtraps.  No more cowering from the enemy.

                A chance.  Finally, a real chance to take back their homes.

                The Sith chose this time to strike, but not through force.  They used treachery, they used the soldiers, and they used Malak.

                They fed starving fighters.  They rescued children.  They ambushed Mandalorians.

                Quiet whispers made it to Malak’s ears.

                Forever the follower.  Not even good enough to be Revan’s lover.  The lieutenant next to the general.  Supreme power at his hands, only if he chose to take it.  Malak fought as best he could, but after the Sith approached Revan, the last visages of Light crumbled.

                The Sith, they offered their services to Revan.  They claimed their numbers sagged under Mandalorian attacks, and since Revan was not aligned with the Light Side, they would help her.  At first, Revan refused, but  her own troops goaded her.  They needed the Sith.  The Sith weren’t as bad as she thought.  Malak found himself agreeing, the Sith’s insidious words permeating his mind.  Power blinded him, and in turn, he blinded Revan.

                Against her better judgment, she accepted their help.  As the war raged on, Sith dogma resonated with her.  Passion.  Strength.  Power.  Victory.  Freedom.  She cared not for their ways, but their Code embodied all she tried to accomplish to rescue Bastila.  Somehow, she balanced the Light Side of the Force with the Dark Side, utilizing her passion to free others from oppression.

                The soldiers loved Revan and followed her to their doom.  The Sith cackled at her precarious balancing, quietly waiting for her to fall.  Malak watched, his eyes loving but his soul marred by darkness.

                Victory came swiftly and the Mandalorians scattered to the wind.

*****************

                “Malak, this title is preposterous.”

                “It is a sign of power.  You MUST take it.”

                Revan distastefully glanced at the mask and cloak on her table.  “I’m not going to let people call me Darth Revan.  I’m as much Darth Revan as I am Jedi Revan.  That and the mask makes me look like a droid.”  She blinked and reconsidered.   “A fat droid,” she muttered.

                “But the Sith want to do this as a formality.  You’ve driven the Mandalorians away and they want to honor you, to call you their leader.”

                “Heir to Exar Kun?” the blonde dubiously asked.  “I don’t think so.  The Sith might not be as terrible as I imagined, but there’s still something off about them.  The wise choice would be to thank them and go on our way.”

                Malak sighed and patted the sturdy mask.  “Just... think about it, ok?  Would hate to offend our allies.  They may think we’re rejecting the Dark Side.”

                “Dark Side, Light Side, it doesn’t make a difference, Malak.  The Force is the Force--only people who use it separate the two sides.  What we choose to do with the Force defines us.  Sith wish for power.  Jedi thirst for knowledge.  Me?  I just want Bastila back.”

                “The Sith can help us rescue my sister.”

                Her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, Revan shook her head.  “No way, I’m not getting in the middle of that one.  Jedi versus Sith?  No.  That’s the last thing I need after almost two years of war.  All I want is Bastila in my arms and I can die happy.”

*****************

                She waited a long time for this day.  The Outer Rim secure and her ships in shiny condition, Revan positioned her fleet to warp back into the heart of the Republic.  Of course, she had to make a stop, but she hoped it would be a bloodless one.

                “Send a transmission to Dantooine,” she ordered, waiting for her specialists and drones to patch her through.  The screen fizzled and crackled for a long while before people came into view.  A woman, human, and she looked quite confused at how this unknown frequency managed to connect with the Jedi Academy.

                “Who is this?” she asked, annoyed.

                “I am Revan.  I wish to speak with the Jedi Council about Jedi Bastila Shan.”

                “I don’t know who you are, but you don’t just demand an audience with the Jedi Coun-”

                Her voice suddenly seized up as she struggled to breathe.

                Revan let her arm down and released the woman from her Force Choke.  “Tell the Jedi Council to park their collective asses in front of the screen, please.”

                The transmission cut for a good ten minutes before it re-established itself.  Vrook stood front and center, flanked by five other unknown people.  The bastard appeared as serene as ever which only irritated Revan.

                “The prodigal knight,” Vrook smiled, “I’ve heard about your exploits.”

                “Where’s Bastila?”

                “Jedi Shan is where she is suppose to be: away from you.  As the saying goes, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’”

                “You wretched son of tauntaun,” growled Revan, “You dragged her out of her bed and raped her mind.  You dare take the high road with me?!”

                “While your devotion to her is admirable, she is much better off without an unstable emotional presence like you.  She will become a great Jedi like I trained her to be.”

                Her hate of him spilled over and she lurched forward in her seat to make sure he knew her rage.  “Listen well.  ALL OF YOU LISTEN WELL.  I have fleets of battle cruisers and carriers.  I have enough firepower to wipe planets out of existence.  If you do not return Bastila Shan to me, I will blaze a trail of death and destruction to your damned doorstep.  When I am done, I’ll be able to fit all that remains of Dantooine into the palm of my hand.  Do you understand?”

                A pained expression found its way to Vrook’s face.  “I wished it not true, but I see now you have truly fallen to the Dark Side.  We are servants of the Light, and we will not capitulate to you.  We will never give up one of our own to your corrupted whim.”

                So hard was her grip on the arm rest, her knuckles turned white.  “Then it’s settled, Vrook.  You’ve earned the wrath of the Dark Lord Revan.”

*****************

                “Republic vessels!  Stand down, I have no quarrels with you.”

                “Yeah,” laughed a clueless admiral, “I’ll just let a bunch of Sith flagships waddle into our space.  Your kind ain’t welcome here, and we’ve got the Jedi to back us to up on that one, Darth Revan.”

                Revan closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “So this is how you treat your war hero?  The one who saved the Outer Rim with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a few rickety freighters?  And it’s not Darth Revan, it’s the Dark Lord Revan.  Get it right.”

                “Enough talkin’.  The Republic’s payin’ me to turn your fancy tin cans into space debris.  See how you like some payload up your thrusters!”

                Twenty thousand lives were lost that day, almost all of them Republic citizens.

*****************

                She looked so small under that uniform.  Malak almost forgot what Revan had looked like before joining the Sith.  Beneath a lone light in her quarters, this hunched over Revan looked sad, weak, and vulnerable.  Good--her death quickly approached.

                “Am I right?”

                Snapping out of his thoughts, Malak put his hand supportively on Revan’s back.  “You’re justified.”

                “The Jedi Council wronged me.  The Republic sent us to our doom.  I should feel vindicated after every victory, but how come I don’t?”

                “Maybe you’re not letting yourself feel vindication until their total annihilation.”

                “Right,” she laughed humorlessly.  “Total annihilation equals vindication.  That sits as well with me as that Sith recruitment garbage you’ve been spending all your fucking time on.”

                “Our forces are increasing daily,” he defended, “Our enemies fear us like none before.  We’ll tear apart those who stand in our way and rule their fallen lands!”

                Revan put her head in her hands and sighed.

*****************

                “My liege, these are the captured Jedi.”

                Three people.  Two males, one female.  They were beaten but they still looked proud.  Around their necks hung a collar specially designed by Revan to dampen their Force powers.  They stood together as one, unafraid of whatever the Sith had in store.

                “My apprentice says you have a message for me,” said the Dark Lord.

                One of the men spoke.  “The Jedi Council of the Light Side wishes to express its-”

                From thirty feet away, Revan closed her fist and crushed his windpipe.  As he fell to the floor convulsing and spitting up blood, she turned to his companions.  “Less talk.  More message.”

                “The Jedi Council is willing to discussion Jedi Bastila Shan with you,” the woman quickly answered.

                Again Revan closed her fist.  The woman’s eyes rolled into the back of her as she thrashed about.  “We’re beyond discussion,” she said to the survivor.  “Tell your Council: return Bastila to me.  If a hair on her head is missing, I will hunt every Jedi like a Kath Hound and personally return them to the Force.”

*****************

                The plan was simple.  Use her animosity against Master Vrook to lure her out.  Catch her off-guard with Bastila.  Destroy her.

                The battle took place on a decimated but strategically tenable planet.  Asteroid belts hid ships.  Ground troops set up early.

                Early, everything went according to plan.  The Dark Lord Revan showed up with an army behind her.  The Jedi showed up.  Vrook led the charge.  Bastila hung around in the back.  Laying eyes upon her, Revan carved a bloody swath of destruction to her.  Bastila didn’t understand Revan was so interested in her anyway.  They were friends in their youth, but that’s it.  Revan gaped at Bastila, breaking off their battle as she blindly charged to kill Vrook.  Bastila didn’t take kindly to someone trying to behead her Master, and she joined the fight.

                Now, that’s when things spiraled out of control.  Revan’s army retreated despite winning handily thus far.  The Jedi converged on the Revan-Vrook-Bastila melee, only to see Vrook pull back.  Of course, Revan couldn’t harm Bastila, but the same didn’t hold true in the reverse.  Bastila impaled a distracted Revan just seconds before Malak’s flagship and a Republic cruiser fired on the battlefield.  Despite the pain, Revan called upon her considerable power and shielded the two of them from a fiery doom.  Sure she was close to her last moments, Revan relentlessly hammered at their closed bond while Bastila digested what the Jedi’s greatest threat just did for her.

                The barrier between them gave way slightly, which would’ve been greeted with immense joy from Revan if a large chunk of debris didn’t almost knocked her head off...

*****************

                ... Which brings us back here.

                Revan, I didn’t know.

                No one knew, and I wished you didn’t.  My years away from you weren’t good.

                You’re still you. 

                I hope.... and why am I feeling lighter?

                I can’t hold you in my mind any longer.  Our bond--I felt your pain and I wanted to comfort you.

                Thank you, Bastila.

                Just promise me you won’t die.  I can’t see you leave again.

                I promise, my Princess.

- To be continued...

Chapter 5: Ghastly Grim and Ancient Revan

                Light.  Lightheaded.  Then searing pain.  Every nerve in my body caught fire at the same time.  Was I breathing out smoke or was that from my clothes?  Didn’t know, but I didn’t smell good either way.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, Bastila whispered quiet words of encouragement to me.  My heart sank when I realized she was shouting those words--I just couldn’t hear very well.

                A low rumbled of laughter registered followed by a quick shock which sent me twitching and Bastila screaming.  Malak.  Her brother, my best friend who might as well be my brother.  We went wrong somewhere, and I wasn’t quite sure where.  He didn’t used to be like this.  He used to love me.

                Now?  Great man but few cards short of Pazaak deck.

                I peered at Bastila.  She looked desperate.  Desperation inundated our bond.  Get up?  Did she want me to get up?  Woman, did you know how much I hurt?  Malak coming closer, huh?  Of course he’d come closer, silly, he’d need to do that to finish us off!

                Ah ha.  Problem there and brain finally caught up.  Star Forge.  Darth Malak.  Corrupted Bastila.  Tried to kill me.  It’s coming back now.  So was my hearing.

                “...ay goodbye to your Revan, my sister.  Her essence will feed me well.”

                “NO!”

                My lightsaber sparked to life as I turned around in time to intercept his killing blow.  “You heard what she said.”

                His eyes went wide.  “How did you-”

                Fight now.  Die later.  I pushed his weapon away, sprang to my feet, and rained slashes onto him.  Hadn’t moved this fast in a long time, ever since I fought the Sith who took off his jaw on the Republic cruiser.   He was never as good as me with the saber and it showed.  His body armor burned.  Blood seeped through.  That cut on his thigh couldn’t have felt good. 

                My leg whipped across his face and dented his metal jaw.  When he didn’t go down, I did it again.  And again.  And again until he did.  I soared through the air to finish him off, but he rolled away.  I threw my lightsaber at him and drew my other out; he deflected the projectile but roared in surprise when I lunged at him without retrieving my weapon.  By the skin of his upper teeth, he parried my attack.  I stabbed his shoulder instead of his heart.

                His turn to kick me, but he didn’t press his advantage.  Malak was never one to fight his own battles.  Like a scared dog, he ran.  His pattering footsteps, aided by the Force, echoed through the Star Forge, dwarfed only by my puffing breaths.

                I crumbled into a boneless heap but I felt my wounds closing already.  Force Healing, and not by me.

                Bastila.

                Her touch healed.  Her gaze made me smile.  Her tears saddened my heart.

                “Thank you,” I coughed, augmenting her efforts with my own.  In no time, I could stand, and that was good enough for me.  What lay ahead was my business and I intended to finish it.

                Bastila didn’t see things my way.  “Revan, don’t go after Malak,” she pleaded, “Let the Republic destroy the Star Forge.”

                I grabbed my fallen lightsaber and tested it out in my hands.  “They won’t get close,” I sighed, “The Sith outnumber the Republic ships five to one, the Jedi have been slaughtered, and Malak still hasn’t used the Star Forge’s own defenses yet.  This’ll be a massacre.”

                “But you don’t understand!  Malak wants you to go after him now.  He has the people he killed at the Academy in these vats, and he uses them to make himself stronger.”

                What?  “Vats?  What are you talking about, Bastila?  I found the Star Forge.  I spent years here and I never heard about vats.”

                She wouldn’t look at me as she spoke: shame dogged her.  “My brother forced me to watch before he turned me to the Dark Side.  He put this poor, half-dead Padawan into a vat and connected these tubes to him.  Then... he just sucked his soul away, tainting him with corruption and preventing him from rejoining the Force.”

                Her voice choked up.  “Malak said he’d kill me if I didn’t do the same to someone else.  I tried to fight, but I was too weak.  It was terrible, Revan.  It made me powerful but sick.  It was like someone else floated in my veins and I used their power, not mine.  Then he made me like it...”

                I’ll kill him.  Make him suffer.  Never had the stomach for torture, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do it.  Bastila didn’t deserve any of this.

                “No, Revan,” she cried, forcing me to face her, “Don’t be foolish.  He’s incredibly strong and he won’t hesitate to kill you.  You felt what he did to you!”

                I wished I could walk away.  Malak was Bastila’s brother, and even though he hurt her, an infinitesimally small part of her still loved him.  I had Bastila in my arms, and if memory served me right, the Star Forge escape pods lay around the corner.  The Sith would crush the Republic and the remains of the Jedi--two out of three factions who betrayed me gone.  Not bad. 

                But I couldn’t walk away.  “Malak will never leave us alone.  He’s been twisted by the Sith beyond recognition, and he will never stop hunting me.  He’ll never stop hunting you because of who you are to me.  This ends now.”

                “But you’ll die.”

                “I won’t.”

                “How do you know?”

                “Because I promised you.”  I casually flipped her lightsaber back to her.  “I’ll lead you to the escape pods.  If people find you or if I don’t come back in twenty minutes, leave without me.”

                Two of three.  Not bad, but not good enough.  I wanted the Sith more than I wanted the Republic or the Jedi.  The Sith killed the Malak I loved.  The Sith wronged my crew of the Ebon Hawk.  The Sith tortured Bastila.  The Sith betrayed me.  The Sith manipulated my soldiers.  The Sith stole the Star Forge from me.

                One out of three.  Not good, but good enough.

                “I’m coming with you, Revan.”

                Those steely eyes met mine.  A thousand reasons why this wasn’t a good idea went directly from my mind to hers, but she wouldn’t relent.

                *You’ve always protected me,* she said through our bond.  *Bad things only happen to me when I’m away from you.  No more.  Wherever you are, I will be with you.  And remember, this isn’t just your business: it is mine too.*

                I could never begrudge her of anything.  Somewhere in the shuffle, her wrongs got pushed to the side of mine, and I had to remind myself that for as much as I’ve been hurt, she’s been hurt too, perhaps even worse.  Against my better judgment, I nodded and allowed her to follow.  I just hoped that this time I wouldn’t regret my decision, like my decision to trust the Sith.

                Droids got in our way but I suspected Malak only expected these things to slow us down.  Make no mistake about it--Malak knew both of us where coming.  The Star Forge protected its master and made every danger known, and I wasn’t just a danger.

                I was his nightmare. 

                Not Jedi Revan.  Not the Dark Lord Revan.  Not Selene Jashan.  Revan, the one not bound by Sith or Jedi, the friend who reminded him of what he once was, the general whom her troops would willingly die for, the being who wouldn’t submit to the Mandalorians, the woman who had all the power in the galaxy.  I was everything he wasn’t, and I gave it away.  He tried to become what I was, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t.

                He couldn’t be me.

                He couldn’t kill me.

                He couldn’t love me.

                *He’s up ahead,* said Bastila, pointing to a wall with a control panel I didn’t remember seeing before.  *Be prepared for anything.*

                Both of us sensed his presence.  Both of us sensed the huge store of energies.  Both of us sensed the dimming life straining to leave their prisons.  I plunged a lightsaber into the controls and set it ablaze.  The area alarm sounded, but with all the droids destroyed and Sith troops elsewhere (namely dead), nothing responded.  A twist of the blade and sparks flew out of the fire.

                Then the wall slid back.

                Scores of people lay suspended in glass.  I recognized some of them.  Malak stood in the back, the wounds from our fight gone, his outfit immaculate unlike mine, the dents on his metal jaw the only sign of his defeat.  How did I ever miss something this big?

                He seemed to read my mind.  “Fool,” he scoffed, “Blind fool.  So consumed with building that  forsaken fleet to rescue my sister you never tapped the Star Forge’s true secrets.  This is why you didn’t deserve your title, this is why you didn’t deserve your recognition!  The Dark Lord Revan could’ve taken over the galaxy, but no, you wanted Bastila.  You wasted your power.  You weren’t fit lead the Sith.

                “Now I, on the other hand, have led the Sith to glory.  I ousted you, the spineless fraud.  The Jedi cling to their pathetic existence as the Republic cowers at my power.  I’ve unleashed the Star Forge’s might.  And now, I’ll get the pleasure of taking your life to make mine.”

                Time for talk was over.

                *How should we attack him, Revan?*

                I glanced at Bastila and shrugged.  *Repeatedly and effectively.*

                We charged, me leaping through the air and Bastila weaving through all the obstacles.  Malak laughed, and that unbelievable explosion of energy came out of him again.  A violent Force Push sent me crashing into a row of vats, glass cutting me and metal crumbling under his attack and my weight.  Evidenced by the cold, clammy, and soft cushioning, I also tumbled into a few bodies.

                Bastila, Battle Meditation in tow, closed into melee range and tried to the end the fight quickly.  She slashed high; he ducked.  She swept low; he jumped.  She thrust; he parried.  He was toying with her, one eye watching her strikes and one eye watching me.  If I moved to help her, he’d kill her.

                *Get away, Bastila.  You’re no match for him alone.*

                She considered not listening, but she noticed my worry.  Good girl--pride would never get you anywhere useful, especially now.  *We have to exploit Malak’s weaknesses.  He’s an arrogant, merciless, and sadistic beast, so...*

                *So?*

                *Do with it what you will.  In any given situation, if he can be an ass, he will be an ass.*

                “This is all you have?” chuckled Malak as lightning crackled in his hands.  “Your master plan is to hack at me with your useless lightsabers?!  I expected something better, Revan.  Why, you even have your precious Bastila here, panting away like a bitch in heat.”

                Oh no.  *Bastila?*

                *What?*

                *Run.*

                The raging red electricity gripped Bastila, but only for a second.  I threw my lightsabers and he shifted the Force Lightning to me as he dismissively knocked my weapons away.  Even though I was ready for his attack, I couldn’t hold my own very well.  The power he stole... too much.  The Force Shield I erected tethered on the edge of shattering, held together by my utmost concentration.

                Then he stopped.  I opened my eyes to see Bastila, angry as all hell, and Malak flying into the wall.  A push, but a push was enough to get him off of me.  Instead of charging in again, I fled and told Bastila to do the same.  I only had one viable option, and I didn’t like it.

                *We need to match his power,* I noted.

                *How are we going to do that?  He’s too strong and too quick.*

                I hated to do this, but since when did I ever have a choice in these desperate contests against death?  *Cover me.  I need a moment.*

                *What are going to do?  Revan?  Are you-*

                I shut off our bond.  Didn’t need her flashing back to her time with the Sith.  Looking up, the vat in front of me held a person I knew very well: Vrook, the one who drove Master Jolee away, the man who wronged Bastila.  In my dreams, I often pictured myself killing him for the shit he caused.  I’d finally crack his damned indifferent demeanor and watch as he sputtered to his demise. 

                I hated the man with a passion.

                No, I wasn’t a good person.  I’d done things most would condemn me to hell for.  I walked in the Light but I shunned it.  I walked in the Dark but I hated the others who did.  Just a walking paradox, and that’s why Malak would never be better than me: he never contradicted himself.  He was the kind of true believer till the end, never thinking outside the box, never seeing the gray in the universe.  Good and bad.  Black and white.  Me?  Wherever life suited me, I went, contradictions be damned.  I did what I had to do to achieve my goals, to survive.

                Besides, wasn’t I the same person who killed millions to save one?

                So, Bastila said it made her sick, huh?  Well, draining Master Vrook dry would make the act palatable.

                By the time she got over to me, I was already too far gone.  Her hands covered her mouth; her eyes went as wide as saucers.  “Revan,” she gasped.

                I didn’t stop at Vrook.  Malak, the lazy cretin, chained all the vats together for easy access.  Bet he never imagined someone would come and steal his batteries.  I soaked up the power like a sponge, draining it with the technique an old Fallen Jedi taught me.

                “Picture wrestling your enemy’s breath from them,” he said to me.  “Yes, like that.  Once you have their first breath, you can continue pulling for more.  Don’t stop.  This will give you strength and heal your wounds.  If they can’t hold onto what they have, they don’t deserve it.”

                They don’t deserve it.  Hmph.  Vrook didn’t--he deserved worse, but I didn’t have time.  His infuriating indifferent attitude slipped into me while his body shuddered and withered.  Other pieces of energy flowed into me--bits of memories, slivers of abilities, a whole lot of power.  The world slowed down but the tidal wave of energy sped up.  The Star Forge bent at my feet, metal and glass warping, fusing, shattering, and exploding around me like-

                Bastila spun me around, fear and anger permeating her aura.  “Stop, Revan!  You’re better than this!”

                Yes, my Princess, I was better than this, but stooping lower to gain an advantage didn’t bother me.  Not this time.  As energy poured out from my body, I heard Malak pick himself up and scream, furious.  With all the grunting and yelling he’d been doing today, I expected his vocalizer to break, but alas, it didn’t.

                I had my back to him but I felt his attack.  Lightning again.  How unoriginal. 

                I pressed my lips against Bastila’s.  “One second, my Princess.”

                Time to finish our business.

                I turned and let him hit me.  That’s it you steel faced bastard, pour your bleeding heart and soul into me.  The power he had was like a drop in the ocean, but I consumed it anyway just to spite him.  He tried to replenish himself but I wouldn’t let him; I’d suck the entire place dry before I’d let him taste another soul.  I gripped him with the Force and crushed, crushed and grinded him like an insect under my shoes. 

                It ruined his concentration.

                Over dead Jedis and around fallen vats, I walked to him--Malak, my friend, my worst enemy.  Random bolts of life sucked into me as I passed anything possessing energy, and Malak possessed a lot of energy, so I drained.  He slammed his fists on the metal grating, perhaps in pain, most likely in frustration.  I felt his life weakening by the second.

                With one hand, I picked him up by the scruff of his neck.  His eyes had sunken into his skull.  His skin hung loosely on his bones.  His jaw looked big, out of place.  A blue light shined on his face, and I peered at him in confusion until I saw his eyes, my reflection, and my own eyes.  They weren’t green anymore; they were two, bright, starry orbs of blue.

                He wheezed like an old man.  “Who’s the monster now?”

                Sad little thing.  So this was the galaxy’s greatest threat, the same one who almost killed me, destroyed the Republic, and obliterated most of the Jedi.  Emphasis on “almost.”  Seemed trivial, like losing a pair of scissors or ripping a hole in your clothes.  Of course, everything seemed trivial when your body hummed with so much power that you were at one with the Force.

                No Light Side.  No Dark Side.  A unified Force, the intangible ebbs of existence, opened to me.  The possible fates surrounding the Star Forge cleared, and a number of distinct paths made themselves known.  I chose not to peek and let the Force guide me.

                Back to Malak.  I didn’t see Malak: I saw his essence, tarnished and blackened.  He didn’t become so through using the Force; the Sith paved his way to hell by drowning him in greed and malice.

                I looked down at myself and saw the similarities between us.

                And like that, Malak died.  No great battle or gigantic explosion, just a labored gasp and silence.  Focused on myself, I didn’t even get to see him expire.  He left a message for me, a knowing, mocking, defiant glare, taunting me as if saying, “You’ve won but you’ve lost.”  His last hurrah.

                What a way to go.

                I released his shriveled corpse and it went crunch, well on its way to being nothing but dust.  For something I’ve looked forward to, his demise left me indifferent.  What was one man’s death?  What did it accomplish?  Thousands of years from now, none will remember this struggle or my now distant emotions.  Even ten years from now, another will rise in his place and another will stop him. 

                Malak’s death meant nothing: life will go on.

                My quest for revenge meant nothing: life will go on.

                The Republic will crumble with or without my help, as all good civilizations do.  The Jedi will fall into obscurity, just another order of individuals who banded together to discourse about what they termed as “The Force.”  The Sith will die, either by their own hands or by others more ruthless.

                Bastila cautiously approached me, her stomach sick but her mind relieved.  She even shed a tear for her brother, the man who meant nothing. 

                “Are you done?”

                I was done the day I was born.  “Do you want to know the Force’s secret?” I asked.

                She walk around so she saw my face, my glowing eyes.  “What happened to you?  Are you... well?”

                “As well as I can be,” I answered.  “I’m at peace, at one with the Force.”

                Being raised by Jedi, those words held a negative connotation for Bastila.  Her mind worried while her mouth blurted, “Are you dying, Revan?”

                Silly Bastila.  “Of course I am.”

                She almost looked relieved until she digested my words.  “You’re joking,” she said, more for herself than me. 

                A single being was never meant to hold this much power.  Could feel myself burning out, the very energies I consumed consuming me.  I needed more to sustain myself, but outside of Bastila, nothing else remained. 

                “There is only the Force,” I sadly smiled.  “The Force exists and will persevere with or without those who sense it.  It keeps everything in motion and pushes time forward, regardless of our acts.  Our love, our life, our battles, our galaxy--all nothing, absolutely meaningless, garbage left to rot into oblivion.  We are insignificant brushstrokes on a masterpiece with no end.”

                I gave a dry laugh.  “Our Masters claimed that the Force was something greater, that it held a destiny for all of us.  Only the wisest have ever brushed against the truth, but even they didn’t accept it.  They wanted something more, but unfortunately, there isn’t.  We are nothing and the Force provides no comfort.”

                I brushed a few stray hairs from her face.  “Don’t cry.  Life begins and it ends.  All pain will fade away.”

                Her eyes, filled with tears, burned like an inferno.  Her hand whisked from her side and slapped me hard.  “You LIAR,” she shouted through her sobs, “You said you wouldn’t die.  You told me you loved me.  Now, you say none of it matters?  I’ve loved you all my life whether I knew it or not, and I’ve suffered because of and for my love.  We, Revan, you and I... WE are not nothing!  We are something, and I won’t let you go.

                “Forget our Masters.  Forget the Force.  We make ourselves.  We are born with nothing, but by living, we make our purpose!”

                “Like your brother?” I asked, glancing at the unidentifiable pile of dust, bone fragments, and one metal jaw before me.  “Another warlord killed by someone more ruthless.  He had a purpose and a legacy, but none of it matters.  What is he fifty years from now when all who remember him are dead or old?  He was just another bump in the road.”

                “So are you just going to give up and die?”

                “Why fight it?  I feel no pain.  I’ve opened my mind to the truth.  I’ve kept my promise to you-”

                “No you haven’t!  You promised me you wouldn’t die!”

                “Sorry, but everybody dies.” 

                The power... leaving me now.  The glow in my eyes dimmed slightly.  The grasp I held on the Force slipped and my mind came down off its high.  The thoughts I so easily entertained grew distant and difficult to understand.  Emotions regained their footholds on my heart.  Again Bastila slapped me, but she didn’t follow it with anger.

                “You’re leaving me too,” she softly cried, “First my father, then my mother, next Malak, and now you.  This isn’t right.  Is there no justice in the universe?”

                Couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Malak said to me once: ‘This isn’t justice, this is reality.’  Probably the truest words he’s ever spoken.”

                “And you won’t fight for us anymore?  After all this time, you’re just going to give up?  Can’t you do something to save yourself?”

                “Why, my Princess?  To cause you more pain?  Life is not a fairytale where the knight and princess live happily ever after.  Because of who I am, who I was, no one will leave us alone.  If I live, the Sith will come after me, some of the Republic will hunt me, and the remaining Jedi will look on in their indifference, silently contemplating but never acting.  The worst moments of your life will be ahead of you.  I believe your safety and happiness are worth dying for.”

                She tensed, feeling the change in my mood.  Guess I wasn’t talking like an aloof Jedi wise woman anymore.  “Is our love worth living for?”

                No fair.  “Even after all I’ve said?”

                “We’ve been separated by Sith and Jedi--words aren’t going to change how I feel.”  She kissed me deeply like there wasn’t a care in the world.  Soft, passionate, the first real kiss we’ve shared in years--my damned knees weakened and breathing didn’t seem quite as important anymore.  I needed to be closer to her, and my arms had minds of their own, wrapping around her like a life preserver.

                In a way, she was a life preserver. 

                When she pulled away, she wore the a smile to die for.  “If you keep this attitude up though, I’ll have to knock some more sense into you.  No matter what, you’re still my Revan, and life won’t be bad.  You can use the Star Forge to save the Republic and destroy the Sith.  No one will be after us and I’ll still have you.”

                What do you say to the love of your life after killing her monstrous brother, her malevolent Master, and about half of the galaxy’s population? 

                “I-”

                The loudspeakers interrupted me.  Admiral Dodonna’s static laden image appeared on a large screen.  Her eyes had dark rings around them and her shoulders slumped.  “Attention Star Forge.  I am Admiral Forn Dodonna of the Republic.  I... we... we are informing you of our surrender.  The battle is over and further aggression will not prove anything.”

                The power was leaving me, but I had enough to make a difference.  One out of three, I reminded myself.  Not good, but good enough.  I stepped up to the control panel and opened a channel.  Admiral Dodonna’s eyebrows almost jumped off her forehead when she saw me.

                “Admiral Dodonna,” I greeted with a grin, my disturbing image enhanced by the glowing eyes, “Darth Malak is dead.  Prepare for your victory.”

                I cut communications.

                “Overly dramatic,” scoffed Bastila, “I see you’re back to your old self.”

                “You wouldn’t have me any other way, my Princess.  Now, focus your Battle Meditation on the remaining Republic ships.  I have Sith to kill.”

                “How very un-Jedi-like of you.”

                “Why thank you.”

                The Star Forge protected its master.  It tried to protect Malak, but it failed.  Now me, I was also its master.  The thing about the Star Forge: it never forgot.  I entered my old authorization codes into the controls, and a quick scan later, the Star Forge welcomed me back like an old friend.

                “Greetings, Revan.  What is your command?”

                And like an old friend, the Forge was a living, breathing specimen, only this friend tailored itself to run on Force power.  I pressed my hand up to the input panel and unleashed the torrent of energies stored in my body, mind, and soul. 

                My consciousness melded with the machine.  All at once, I saw from within and outer space.  Turrets moved like my fingers and drone controlled ships acted like my lightsaber.  All the energy gathered from over sixty Jedi discharged into the Star Forge, me as its focal point.  It latched onto me, rendering itself into a planet sized suit of armor.

                No, Malak.  The vats weren’t the Star Forge’s ultimate secret.  This was.  It wasn’t a servant to the master: it was an extension of the master, an intergalactic vessel made to change all of known space.  I felt like a sleeping giant awakening for the first time.  I flexed my arms, commanded my drones, watched the battle, and fired upon the Sith.  So much information poured into me, but the flow was second-nature, like seeing, hearing, and smelling at the same time.

                All the vessels made from the Star Forge I retook control of.  Cruisers, gunships, corvettes, fighters, destroyers, carriers--this was the resplendent fleet the Republic denied me, the one the Sith stole from me.  So easy to just fall back on old habits and steamroll everyone, but Bastila’s words rang through my mind: save the Republic and destroy the Sith.  Quell three enemies in one stroke.  My grudges with the Republic I could always settle later.  They, unlike Jedi and Sith, didn’t hurt Bastila.

                Lucky them.

                The ship construction sped up like my heart.  I swarmed the most destructive ships.  Guns and blasters of different shapes and sizes locked onto hundreds of targets and shot away.  The Sith weren’t stupid, and when they realized the Star Forge no longer lay on their side, they started attacking it.  Missiles exploded into the Star Forge, and the initial shock of pain made me flinch.  Sadness welled up inside of me when I realized they’d destroyed a launching bay.

                Felt like losing my favorite Pazaak deck or dropping my lightsaber.

                Republic ships, reenergized by Bastila, criss-crossed through Sith lines untouched.  Yet, despite our efforts, the battle still wasn’t going our way.  The Republic all but annihilated, the Sith focused on me.  Even the Star Forge could be destroyed, and the power I stole from the Jedi dwindled.  Pretty soon, I’d have to remove myself and rely on the automated defenses, the same one which failed Malak.  Not twenty minutes ago I wondered how I could expend all the energies in my body.  Now, I didn’t have enough.  I wasn’t burning out anymore--I was working myself to death.

                A lucky shot hit one of the energy matrixes and made the entire station shudder.  I vaporized the offender, but many more filled the ranks. 

                Weak, so tired.  Powering the Star Forge was hard work.  I stumbled onto one knee, but Bastila caught me before I fell.

                “I’m not enough,” I whispered.  “There’s too many of them.”

                She stroked my face and wiped away the sweat.  “Take my power.  Use as much as you need.”

                No.  Not Bastila.  “I can’t do that.  It’ll kill you...”

                “Like it’s killing you now!” she yelled.  “So either take my power or get away from the control panel.”  Ok, she had a point.

                But I hated losing, especially in such a critical time.  I’d never get another chance like this at the Sith and I won’t waste this opportunity.  I searched deep within myself and drudged up the strength to continue.

                Anger.  Betray.  Justice.  Revenge.  Love.  Hate.  Bastila.  Malak. 

                The words gave me power, and I fed it to the Star Forge.

                Then, from the planet below, the displacement field I’d shut down earlier reactivated.  Whole squadrons of Sith fighters crashed into it and exploded.  The Republic fighters in hot pursuit mysteriously didn’t suffer any consequences.

                “Did you do that, Revan?”

                “No,” I said, confused.

                That’s when I saw the Ebon Hawk streak from the Rataka planet’s atmosphere and dive into combat like an avenging angel.  The vessel hailed me, and let me say, I’ve never been this glad to see Carth’s scrubby face.

                “Well, look what we have here,” he said in that arrogant way of his, “Need a little help, o’ master of the house?”

                “Statement: I tried to communicate your orders to these meatbags, Master, but they’re stupid and wouldn’t listen.  May I kill them now?”

                “Shuddyup you rusted pile of junk!”

                “Question: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, will you hurt?”

                “What the hell are-”  I heard metal meet bone.  “Holy fuck that hurt!  Jolee, lemme at him!”

                Master Jolee’s face replaced Carth’s.  “As you can see, young Revan, we’re fine.  Question is, are you?”

                No use in lying.  “I feel like dying.”

                He dashed away any amusement and shouted, “Then how come you told us to leave?!  Stupid apprentices these days, always trying to act like some kind of tragic hero.  Don’t die before I get to you, Revan!  This old man needs to wring his student’s neck!”

                “So do I!” rang Mission’s voice.  “What were you thinking putting me back on the Hawk like that?”

                Big Z roared something I couldn’t hear and Mission agreed.  “Right, I could just... just... Hey!” she stopped when she saw me grin.  “Stop smiling, Selene, or I’ll have Big Z collect on that money you owe me from Pazaak!”

                “Jedi Revan,” said Juhani, “Don’t despair--the Force will guide us to you.”

                “Force this, ya tin can!”  The flyboy got clocked again when he lunged at HK.

                Canderous boisterously laughed at the chaos in the Ebon Hawk.  “You lead us into a glorious battle again, Revan!  Just my fortune to slaughter in your name!”

                My friends had excellent timing.  Hope renewed, I turned to my task of fending off the Sith, now with a new tactic in my arsenal: the displacement field.  I shepherded them into it, taking out scads of enemies at once.  Republic forces took refuge behind the field and fired away. 

                Finally had a chance to focus on the capital ships.

                Information began to overwhelm me as I weakened.  Aiming the turrets grew more difficult and every attack on the Star Forge stung.  I started losing more ships, but so close... the end was in sight.  The Sith, faced with a barrier they couldn’t penetrate, the hulking Star Forge, and the remnants of the Republic fleet, tried to retreat.  I chased after them to finish the job.

                THIS was my business, and my business alone.

                Then a trickle of power eased my tired body.  Bastila, she gave herself to me.  I didn’t want it but she insisted, and as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t refuse.  Her extra burst allowed me to send the rest of my fast flying fighters into the heart of the Sith.

                I commanded the vessels to explode.

                A bright ball enveloped the fleeing ships and set off a chain reaction, growing and growing until the entire armada couldn’t be seen anymore.  I wanted to watch, but I couldn’t, instead just closing my eyes.  I fell to the floor taking Bastila down with me and disengaging from the Star Forge.

                My deed was done.

                “You did it!  You drove the Sith back!”

                Trying very hard to feel the triumph, I nodded.  Sacrifices were made, but in the end, they were worth it.  I reopened the bond between Bastila and me and surround myself with all that was her--her smell, her arms, her mind, her love.  She held me, and lying here on cold metal in the middle of nowhere, I never felt more at home.

                “You can open your eyes now,” she whispered.

                I blinked and panic raced through me.

                Her embraced tightened.  “Revan, what’s wrong?”

                “I’m blind,” I answered. 

                I blinked, and I know I blinked because I felt my eyelids close, but no light filtered through.  The Star Forge... the energy from the Jedi... the glowing eyes... something must have burned me out.  I waved my left hand in my face but nothing.  Just nothing.

                “I can’t see a damned thing...”

- To be continued...

Chapter 6: Nevermore

                “What did you do?”

                I smiled at the child.  “I learned to live without my eyes.”

                This was where it all began: Dantooine, the only home I ever knew.  The once vibrant lands became barren after the Sith left, but slowly, the planet healed itself.  People came out of hiding and rebuilt their lives.  The Jedi returned, though no longer the dominant presence they were before Malak, before me.  They set up a new Academy about fifty miles away and they even invited me to stay with them, to teach them about my experiences.  I declined.

                And life went on.

                This particular patch of soil and rock was my favorite place to meditate.  Kath Hounds no longer roamed and the vegetation left something to be desired, but how could I resist the setting of my first kiss?  Bastila called me a hapless romantic, but I knew she found the gesture cute.  The other benefit of this place were the rock outcroppings left over from the destruction--they made nice places to sit, at least for rocks.

                “Why do you live?” someone else called out.  I remembered his voice: Klith, one of the young Jedi who made the journey from the Academy.  “You told us last time that life is meaningless, that all our endeavors become nothing, so why struggle with yourself and your burdens?  Why rebuild Dantooine like you have?”

                They all asked the same question after hearing my tale.  I could hardly blame them since I myself pondered the point many times.  “Why not?” I asked.  “Life is meaningless.  The Force is nothing.  We could lay down and die, neglect our young and watch them wither away, but why?  Why should we not live?  Do you have a good reason?”

                “You say the Force drives us, but yet you say it is nothing.  What are we striving towards then?  What is our purpose?”

                Youthful thought--I remembered it well.  One glance at young Klith’s aura and I knew he would grow up to become a good man.  “Our purpose is to live.”  Enigmatic, but the statement was true and simple.  “The Force has little bearing on how we live: we can be warriors, physicians, villagers, warlords, Jedi, or Sith.  Why shouldn’t you exploit others with the gift you’ve been given, Klith?  Only you can answer that question, and when you do, you’ll know why you live.  Don’t let anyone else tell you what is right and what is wrong; decide for yourself.  History has painted many monsters as heroes and many heroes as monsters.  If everything is nothing and our actions become meaningless, why be anything but truthful to yourself?”

                Discussions broke out amongst the older members of my audience.  Time to go and let them make their own decisions--I was finished with my meditation anyway.

                “Revan,” said Master Vandar, who stood his diminuitive head and shoulders above the other Jedis, “Some of the students wish to witness your unique ability for themselves.  Would you care to oblige them?”

                I politely nodded.  “Of course.  Who brought their lightsabers today?”

                Three of the Jedi students stood and drew their weapons.  They amounted to mere pups, but I’m sure all of them thought they could take a blind lady.

                “Do not hold back,” Vandar encouraged, “I know Revan does not.”

                The fight ended before it began.

                I used the Force to pull one of their sabers to me as I jumped at them.  The one on the left tried to attack, but I ducked his feeble strike and tripped him to the ground.  His lightsaber went flying into the air and I spun, catching it in my off-hand and pivoting in time to stop my two weapons from cleaving the remaining combatants’ heads off.

                “Not bad,” I smiled, turning off the lightsabers and tossing them back to their respective owners.  “They didn’t soil themselves.”

                “H... H... How do you see?” one of the defeated--and still very shook up--Jedi asked.

                “I do not see with my eyes anymore: I sense the Force echoing in everything.  While I cannot tell you the color of your eyes, I can read your heart and the patterns of the Force lingering in you.”

                “What is it like?”

                I chuckled at his curiosity.  “Like seeing the soul instead of the body.”

                After brushing the dust from my robes, I bowed to the people here.  “I really must get going.  I have to help with dinner tonight.”

                The crowd parted for me, the blind sage.  They called me a whole spectrum of names--the outcast, the oracle, the soothsayer, the wise one--but I didn’t mind.  The blind sage seemed to be the one catching on in recent months.  Guess when someone did as much as I had, people talked about you.  Couldn’t be helped.

                Home called to me.  It was nothing special, just another rebuilt city of a rebuilding civilization, but I built it.  In a perfect world, this would be a grand place, resplendent with all my friends and mentors.  Too bad this wasn’t a perfect world.

                After the battle at the Star Forge, everyone went their separate ways.  Carth reunited with his son, Dustil, and set off for places unknown.  Some part of him loved me, and when I came back to the Ebon Hawk with Bastila in arm, he couldn’t take the sight.  I let him go and we parted as friends, though where he lived now I hadn’t a clue.  I wished him the best.

                I wished him love.

                Contrary to his grumblings about old age, Master Jolee took Juhani under his wings.  They canvassed the galaxy, Juhani learning and Master just enjoying the twilight of his days.  They returned to Dantooine on occasion, too occasionally for Juhani’s liking.  For some odd reason, Juhani still considered herself indebted to me.  I told her any debt would be repaid after charging to my rescue those years ago, but she wouldn’t relent.  Master Jolee said something about taking only the most thick-headed students but he left it at that.

                And Juhani loved me too.  I saw the affections in her spirit.  I heard her pulse quicken whenever I approached.  Maybe that’s why she wanted to stay in Dantooine.  Maybe that’s why Master Jolee mentored her.  The old man... still looking out for me.  He knew if he left Juhani alone, she’d find her way to my doorstep and eventually cause difficulties for Bastila and myself.  I remember one night as I lay in the Ebon Hawk, he came to my bedside.  Unadjusted to my blindness, I was little more than a pitiful wreck, albeit one who tried to act strong.  We talked for hours about this and that, but his final words would haunt me till the end of my existence.

                “I failed you, Revan.”

                I reached for his hand but he was no longer beside me.

                “I failed you twice.  There will not be a third.”

                Life carried on, but the shadow of those comments tinged our relationship ever since.  I tried to console him, but in his own tired, stubborn way, he remained inconsolable.  In my estimation, it took a thick-headed mentor to teach a thick-headed student.  If he could teach me, that said something about his state of mind.

                Canderous?  Well, Canderous sold his skills to the Republic.  Snippets of his glorious exploits filtered down to me and if they were correct, he stayed true to the tradition of his people.  I was glad for him.

                Mission and Zaalbar ended much like Bastila and myself: content.  They had each other and they left the details to the winds.  I didn’t ask about their relationship and they never said a word, but the way they glowed around each other defied description.  Master Jolee and Juhani ran into them some months back and they appeared to be well.

                I wished them love.

                As for Bastila?

                “Revan.”

                Her light shined as bright as ever.  She stood before our cottage, one of the many humble structures intertwined with technological intricacies salvaged from the Star Forge’s remains.  See, the Jedi decided the Star Forge was too powerful to be left alone--for once, I agreed with them.  Under my command, the greatest weapon of war self-destructed.  Some of the technologies I brought back here to give Bastila and myself the best modern comforts.

                Lithe fingers brushed the blindfold I’d tied over my eyes.  “Why do you wear this thing?  It’s so unbecoming of you.”

                Drawn by my reputation, a township surrounded us.  I guess most of them hoped no one would be crazy enough to take on the woman who brought the galaxy to its knees.  Having all the Jedi here served to enhance the peaceful image, somehow balancing my fierce repute.  Grizzle war veterans, elder scientists, even a former Senator made their homes here.  Master Vandar once told me my neck of Dantooine looked like a Republic retirement community where somebodies went to live out their days.  I paid him no heed.

                I hated it when Jedi were right.

                “I’m blind, Bastila.”

                “It hides your beautiful eyes.”

                She always got on me about how I covered my eyes.  Absorbing all those energies burned out the color pigments in them, turning my green eyes into dull blue ones but Bastila still loved them all the same.

                Her lips brushed against mine.  “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

                I held her tight and felt her back muscles ripple underneath the pressure.  “I’m not ashamed of anything.  A few people said I look good with it on.  Made me more mysterious.”

                Those full breasts pressed against mine.  Excitement welled up below my waist.  I tried to snake my tongue into her mouth but she broke away.

                “Mmm,” she purred, “You’re awfully-”

                “Declaration: Respect Master’s privacy, meatbags!  Nothing to see here.  Repeat: nothing to see!”  Blasters powered up and shuffling feet quickly dispersed.

                If a woman could love a droid, I’d love HK like a son.

                Bastila chuckled.  “I think we’ve drawn a crowd again.”

                Hmph.  “Seem to be doing that wherever I go.”

                Ever smiling, she led me into our home and closed the door.  Aromas of fine foods filled the air and soft, relaxing music pulsed from points unknown.  A clunk signaled the bolting of our door.

                “Smells heavenly.  What’s for dinner?”

                She pushed me against the wall and pinned my wrists above my head.  “Fowl,” she whispered.

                “Fowl?”

                A nose nuzzled against mine.  “I’m having Revan.”

                Even after years together, Bastila never failed to bring me to my knees.  Gone was the haughty but unsure girl Vrook made her into; here stood a confident, commanding woman, the way Bastila was and should’ve always been. 

                We kissed. 

                We fondled. 

                Things progressed from there, culminating in our sweating, naked bodies draped over each other on... on... the floor?  In the afterglow of our love, I rested my head on her stomach while she played with strands of my hair.  Darkness embraced me, but I felt the warmth of Bastila’s immaculate spirit.  She was beauty given life.  She was hope personified.  She was my reason for living.

                I brushed my lips against a patch of her silky skin.  “I love you.”

                “Say it again.”

                “I love you.”

                She breathed deeply and suppressed a small shudder.  “Those three words never grow tiresome.”

                “I hope not.  Besides my gorgeous figure, that’s all I have to keep you here.  It’s sad, really.”

                “You give yourself far too little credit.”  She rolled out from under me and padded away. 

                “Abandoned,” I sniffled, forlorn, “This is exactly what I’m talking about!  Tis my ghastly fate...”

                “Oh hush.  You’re no longer a child, Revan.”

                Suddenly, a heavy blanket landed on me.  I heard rustling, and like that, like she was never gone, Bastila scrunched against my side.  “Got cold,” she muttered.

                “Didn’t need a blanket, Bastila.  We could’ve used the Force.”

                Her finger jabbed a rib.  “That’s hardly an appropriate way to use the Force!”

                “What?  We’re cold and a little concentration could’ve warmed us up.  I’ll have you know your belly is soft and comfy.”

                She threw the covers over our heads and shut me up in wondrous ways only she could.  I wished this peace, this love, this day would last forever and the galaxy would leave us be.  I wished we wouldn’t matter to the world, only to ourselves. 

                Funny.  We all know how that foolish dream goes.

                That story, however, is one for another time.

- The End.