Disclaimer: These characters and their world are the property of LucasArts and Bioware. I just wrote about them.

12/04 continuity edit, no big changes.

All happy families are alike.

---

Chapter 1 / Journeys

The crowd cheered and the Republic Cross of Glory was warm and solid against the fabric of her robe, a happy benediction. Bastila smiled and Mission giggled with a teenager's exuberance at the crowd's adulation. They'd done it-the Sith were shattered, the Star Forge destroyed. Revan glanced at Carth out of the corner of her eye and he flushed a little, ducking his head down that she'd caught him watching her. There was a promise in his eyes, and she grinned back at him in happy agreement. The sky of the Rakata homeworld was blue and even here on the temple steps she could hear the muted roar of the ocean. Sun and sand. Surely the Council and the Republic would let them rest now, after all that they'd been through.

Now we live happily ever after.

"And now there is another tale to weave into the eternal fabric of our order." Master Vandar said, beaming up her with trust and confidence. "The tale of Revan, the prodigal knight."

So many shining faces smiling back at her. At all of them. She turned her head around and looked at her companions. Even Canderous seemed pleased, sandwiched between Juhani and Jolee. Jolee caught her eye and winked. Juhani looked straight ahead, formal and reserved as she always was in public. The droids were polished and shining, and Zaalbar's normally tangled coat was bushed and combed for the occasion.

"I swore a life debt to you Polla Organa," the wookiee growled at her, pain in his dark eyes. "I had no choice."

She frowned. Zaalbar was usually so quiet. Why mention that now?

The rest of the day was a blur of accolades and festivities.

Glory be to the Republic. All hail Lord Revan, savior of the galaxy.

---

She and Mission played a game of pazaak, as they so often did, in the storage room of the Ebon Hawk. It kept their minds off the hyperspace jump, which made them both sick every time.

"You're cheating," the young twi'lek said, not for the first time.

"I am not!" She laughed.

"Polla, I taught you everything you know about pazaak, don't tell me you're not cheating." Mission giggled, bright and happy. It was so good to hear Mission laugh like this; she'd been so upset about Taris, and then about Grif. Mission was wearing the Baragwin vest they'd bought on Yavin. She always wore it. She'd said it was the first really nice thing she'd ever owned, when they'd bought it on the stop between Kashyyyk and Tatooine. It was the first piece of clothing she'd been able to afford and pick out herself.

"Don't call me Polla, I'm Revan."

"It seems to me if you don't remember being Revan, there's no problem." The twi'lek shrugged and scrubbed at the front of her vest. There was a ragged and torn place there, a place where a vibroblade had cut too deep. "I can't mend this," Mission complained.

"You're lucky to be alive," Revan reminded her.

"Yeah..." the twi'lek frowned, a little frown, and her head tails twitched uneasily. She looked at Revan her eyes wide and guileless, a child's eyes still for all her protestations that she was grown up. "I should have run away, then this wouldn't be ruined. I wish you wouldn't cheat."

"I wish you..." There was a lump in her throat. Why? Revan rubbed her eyes angrily, setting the cards down on the table. "I don't feel like playing pazaak now, I'm sorry."

"That's ok, I'll just..." Mission fiddled with the front of her vest, unsnapping the carbonite buckles one by one, and slipped out of it. Underneath she wore a simple gray jumpsuit, but the front of it was stained with blood.

"Does it hurt?" Revan asked her curiously.

"Not anymore."

"I'm sorry, Mission," Revan said quietly and walked away.

---

Jolee was waiting for her in the navigator's quarters, as he always was.

"Something on your mind?" he said kindly.

She tried not to stare at the charred place where the lightsaber had bit, deep in his side. If he could ignore it, so could she. We'll be at Yavin soon and then we can heal you, she promised him silently.

"The Jedi say everyone can be redeemed," Revan offered cautiously. "No matter what they've done."

"We all have the ability to make choices, kid. It's history that tells us later which are the right ones and which are wrong."

"I was-angry. At the Council and their mistakes. I was sick of being their pawn. Why didn't you understand that? It could have been different."

"Ah now, yes it could have kid. But I made my choice and you made yours."

"I'm...sorry."

"It's not me you should apologize to, kiddo, doesn't really matter to me one way or the other, not any more."

"Juhani-?"

Jolee shrugged. "I suppose she'd be angry and sad. She didn't have the experience I did at being betrayed. But no, I think you should talk to the others. They have to live with this, not us. Not anymore."

Revan grimaced. "I'm not ready for that. Don't ask me to do that, Jolee."

The old man shrugged. "None of us are getting any younger. It's the ones that are going to get older that you need to talk to."

---

Malak died, but she didn't want to think about that now.

Afterwards, she ran through the long corridors of the Star Forge with Bastila at her side. It was one thing to win the war, and quite another to survive it. How had they survived? The remaining Sith hadn't know Malak was dead. They'd had to kill two entire squadrons to fight clear to the docks where the Ebon Hawk waited. No time for Bastila's Battle Meditation now-the Republic was throwing everything it had at the Star Forge. The Republic forces were suicidal and desperate. And they were winning.

Alarms chimed warnings. Hull breech on the Command Deck, life support systems will fail. Evacuate, evacuate.

Canderous was waiting for them on the dock, a question in his impenetrable Mandalorian eyes. She'd nodded slightly, and he'd started to kneel. She'd laughed impatiently. No time for that now. If they wanted to live they had to get off the station.

I can always build another one, she remembered thinking. There'd been other thoughts too, but she didn't want to remember them.

And then there he was, running up the deck to them and everything changed.

---

"Juhani...?" Revan peered into the room off the mechanic's quarters. Small and plain, as it always was; the cathar lived as simply as she could in rigid discipline. She'd always envied Juhani's ability to be so contained. Revan's own life seemed messy and sprawling by comparison. A form moved underneath the thermal blankets on the thin spacer's cot.

"Go away," Juhani said flatly, voice muffled by the covers.

"I want to talk," Revan insisted. She sat down on the edge of the bed. A lightly furred arm reached up and pulled the blankets down tighter, as Juhani shifted away from her, as far to the other side as the narrow cot would allow.

"There's nothing to say. I believed in you. I thought you were stronger than I was. I thought you were a hero."

"They used me," Revan said angrily. "Just like they used you on Dantooine with that stupid test. They made you suffer for a stupid test. Are those the actions of a wise and good Council? Answer me. Are they?"

The cathar sat up and Revan recoiled a little, seeing what the lightsaber blade had done to her friend's face. The friendly eyes were gone, a blackened ruin that extended from the top of her head halfway down her nose. Another deep cut began at her breastbone and slashed across the front of her chest and tattered robe.

"I wish I'd killed you in that grove," Juhani hissed. "You were weak then, and I could have so easily."

"Don't give into your emotions," Revan began automatically.

"That's a load of gamorrean dung, coming from you, Lord Revan." The ruined face twisted.

"I'm going to do the right thing now." Revan said softly. "All I ever meant to do was the right thing. Why couldn't you have understood that? You followed me for months, across five worlds, unquestioningly. You worshipped me, I could see it in your eyes, the way you watched me. . . long before either of us knew who I was. Why did you turn on me, when I needed you the most?"

"Why—," the cathar's mouth curled, revealing little pointed teeth. "It's always been about you, hasn't it? Are you so blind still that you can't see why that's wrong?" Juhani pulled the covers over her head again. "Just go away. Leave me in peace. I've earned it."

Slowly Revan got up from the bed. "We'll talk later," she promised. "When we land on Yavin we'll find a medical droid to heal your wounds."

Faint hissing laughter was the only response, muffled by the blankets. "Stop fooling yourself," the cathar hissed. "You know what really happened."

---

Voices in her head. Shadows. Their voices swam above her head: Zaalbar's grunts and roars; HK's terse translations; Canderous' graveled response.

"Translation: were it not for my life debt I would gladly end this all. But as long as she lives I must follow her."

"She's going to pull through, Revan's a fighter, she always was."

"The wookiee shows disrespect to the Master. I will continue to watch him closely."

Zaalbar's growled a curse that was untranslatable out of Kashyyyk context.

"You hairy meatbag! Show the proper respect."

"We're docking soon," the Mandalorian continued. "I just hope that rodian has what we need. I hope the pilot knows what in the nine hells he's doing." His calloused hand rested on her head. Revan tried to open her eyes but they were too heavy. "I'm giving her another shot, she's been talking in her sleep again. We can't risk her coming out of this until we know...what she'll do. She—she hasn't changed back. If Onasi's right, shouldn't she look better than this?"

Zaalbar growled again. "No matter what she is I must follow. I wish the gods of my people would deliver me from this task."

"Translation: the hairy meatbag swears fealty, but begs for death. Since the Master is incapacitated, perhaps you should blast him? I find it most regrettable that I am incapable."

"No." There was no arguing with Canderous when he sounded like that. "Just go away, both of you. I need to dress her wounds again. They aren't healing like they should."

The world tilted, and there was a cold press of a hypo on her arm. Whirr of machinery as the Ebon Hawk's landing gear opened, and the ship settled.

---

Yavin, Yavin Station.

Revan ran through the oddly echoing halls of the ship looking for Mission. The girl always liked coming to visit Suvam-he was the best pazaak player they'd ever known. Surely she wouldn't want to miss this.

---

Carth looked at the smooth metal collar. "You're sure this will work?" he asked Suvam Tan again. The rodian rolled his eyes, exasperation warring with curiosity. He'd been so surprised to see the Ebon Hawk's docking codes again. Surprised and pleased to see his old friends back again. The report of their death had been false. But Captain Onasi looked terrible. He had that expression on his face that Suvam remembered all too well from the time just after the war with Exar Kun. He had dead eyes-the eyes of a man who has lost everything but keeps on going, even though he can no longer remember why or for what. Suvam tried his best to be reassuring.

"The Sith made these restraining collars during the war to contain their Jedi prisoners. It blocks the force, yes? Baragwin engineers were very clever. As for the rest of your requests...yes I can give you false landing codes-and if you like I have a friend in the Exchange who's quite clever with identities-but I do have to ask...she's alive, isn't she? Revan?"

Carth just looked at him. Suvam ducked his head. "From what I've heard on the nets they all think she's dead-all of you are dead," he offered. "I'm pleased you are not...but-it gets lonely here and I am curious. Why aren't you on Coruscant getting medals with the rest of the Fleet? They had a memorial service three standard days ago for the lost crew of the Ebon Hawk. They'd be happy to see you all, I'm sure."

The human ignored him, grimacing and looking away. "Just give me what I need. Your friend-can he be trusted?"

Suvam laughed. "Of course not, but I can try and help you throw him off the scent. I should tell you-the Exchange was very interested before in the rebirth of Darth Revan and the... opportunities that might offer to citizens of free enterprise. They have been saddened to hear of her demise. There too, there would be an open welcome should you choose to take it."

Carth's eyes narrowed. Inwardly Suvam cursed. He'd said too much, hit some kind of nerve. Time to smooth things over. "I just make things and sell them," he offered weakly. "I have some of what you need already. My Exchange contact is on Korriban, but I can patch through to him and download the data we need to give you all new names... while we wait perhaps the little blue-skinned girl and I could play cards? Where is she anyway? Revan always brought her out of the station when you came before...and I have a nice Baragwin armband I've finished polishing up to match her vest, if she'd like to see it..."

Mission Vao was always fun, almost as fun as Revan herself. Suvam Tan was looking forward to seeing her again. His ear stalks hummed in anticipation. Last time she'd won 900 credits—they were due a rematch and he had some new cards for his deck, bought off an Iridian spacer...but Carth's eyes were glassy, and his face was frozen in some kind of tragic mask. Humans looked so awkward when they were sad. Again, he'd said the wrong thing.

"She—she's not—" the pilot began.

"Oh," Suvam tried to sound comforting. War was a terrible thing. "How many identities will you need then?"

"Three citizens-make us from a non-Republic world if you can-one wookiee slave, and two refits for the droids. It's me and Canderous and Zaalbar and...her. That's all." Carth's voice dropped and broke. "That's all that's left."

"Where is she? I'd like to see her again, Revan was kind to me..." Suvam's voice trailed off. He wondered about the force collar, but he'd sold them to other Force-users. Some people didn't want to feel the universe singing around them, it was something he could understand. Power is a funny thing. He himself had never had much use for power on a grand scale. Considering some of the artifacts he'd found on Yavin IV, perhaps that was for the best. Certainly, he sometimes thought, the galaxy would thank him for not using them, if they only knew.

"She's—Revan is hurt. She was hurt...when there was fighting...she's not...herself."

"I have some regenerative implants that might help? No charge for that. You were all a great help to me with those Mandalorians, you know. I haven't seen them since."

"I'd...appreciate that, she...the wounds aren't healing, not like they should. But you, you have to...how can I know we can trust you?"

"She trusted me," Suvam pointed out, remembering her bright smile. "The last time you came here Revan trusted me enough to tell me who she really was. And you've trusted me already, coming here like this."

Carth nodded, a savage jerk of his head. "We didn't have many options," he admitted. "If you can help her..." His expression was so nakedly torn between loss and hope it made Suvam wince to see it. Humans and their love...what a mess they made.

The Rodian looked away, made himself busy looking through a box of implants for the ones he needed. "With the kolto shortage these have been quite popular," he said. "I'm sure it's a terrible tragedy for Manaan but it's been very good for my business."

"I'm sorry about that," the human muttered inexplicably. "I was impatient with her, I needed to get to Korriban and look for my son. If I hadn't pushed her so hard on Manaan maybe she could have found another way..."

Suvam shrugged. It was a well-known fact on most known worlds that humans were inherently insane. If Carth wanted to take the blame for the kolto crises that had paralyzed half the galaxy, why would Suvam Tan argue?

---

Waking up was like clawing through a nest of eridu fiber into a world of gray shadows. His face. Carth's face, looking worriedly down at her own, brown eyes as familiar as hope. But he looked so sad.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, turning the corners of his mouth up in a smile. His jaw shook a little, like it always did when something was troubling him.

"Carth," she breathed. Her voice was raspy and sore and something cold and heavy pressed down on her neck. She moved her hands uselessly over smooth metal underneath slippery fabric. Her body felt numb and she glanced down, automatically taking stock of her injuries. She was wearing a bacta suit, covered from eyes to toes. Not as effective as the tank, but the only thing they had on the Hawk. They only had the one...were Mission and the Jedi already healed? Revan frowned as something tugged at the back of her mind. Something she didn't want to think about so she pushed it away and looked up at him again.

"Where...?" Her voice trailed off, it was so hard to speak and she wasn't sure where to begin. Where are we? Where are the others? What happened? She closed her eyes again.

"Polla," he said gently. "You can't sleep any more, it's not good for you. You need to get up and move around."

That name again.

"There's no Polla, Carth. There never was, only me Revan," she whispered.

His breath caught. "Revan," he said quietly. "What am I to Revan?" He asked her. Something in his voice, something pleading.

She opened her eyes again and looked at him. That lock of hair falling over his eyes again, just like it always did. Revan reached up a hand to smooth it back. His face was ragged and unshaven, and he looked so pale and sad. His skin had been golden on the Unknown world and he'd been laughing as they ran through the sand looking for the hyperdrive. Things were so serious-but even so they'd found a chance to sit on the beach, just for a little time, the afternoon before she'd gone to the ancient temple.

"I love you Carth," she reminded him. "When this is all over you and I will find something to live for, remember? Something besides Sith and the Council...when this is all over..." Her voice trailed off, frowning, as memories threatened to emerge from behind their locked and barred gate.

"It is over." He looked away from her; a twist of his head and his hand caught hers. A strong hand, she could feel the pressure of it even underneath the webbed layer of the bacta suit.

"You...came and rescued us," Revan said, remembering his face on the Star Forge docking bay.

His eyes were a piercing brown, the color of Deralian wheat. "What do you remember, Poll—Revan?"

She closed her eyes. "I don't want to remember." There was a metal weight on her neck, like a collar, lumpy underneath the suit. Her muscles ached and something was wrong with her legs. Or her spine...she couldn't feel them. Revan reached for the Force to heal herself but there was only a cold empty place where it should be.

"Something's...wrong with me, Carth. I can't feel the Force!" She tried to sit up but the effort left her gasping and her legs were so numb, only small twinges of pain let her know that the nerves weren't entirely dead. Around them, the Hawk's engines hummed. They were going somewhere—but where? "Tell Bastila," she said. "Tell her I can't feel the Force—she—and the others have to help me!" Voice rising now, on the brink of hysteria. She'd been afraid of feeling this much fear before; it fed the Dark side just as much as anger or passion—but now it seemed to make no difference.

"You killed Bastila," her lover said bluntly. "And the others. Jolee. Juhani. And you made Zaalbar kill Mission. You were Darth Revan again and you killed them. You killed Bastila last, when she tried to kill me on the Star Forge...but you cried when you did it and said you were sorry. I thought you were sorry...I told you I'd save you, Revan, I always told you I'd save you. Even from yourself."

Bastila's face, twisted with hate and fury and a bolt of lightening reaching out from her fingers at Carth...fingers that had blackened with red fire as Revan's own power leaped between them. Bastila falling and begging for mercy again. Predictable mercy. Revan had none left.

"I—I told you that I was sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes again. This hurt, the remembering. "She mocked me and tried to hurt you."

Carth sat at her side, unsnapping the seals of the bacta suit. His voice shook a little. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, we need to get you out of this suit. We're going to Kashyyyk for a little while, to...recover." He tried for a comforting grin but it came out like a rictus on his too-sensitive face. He tugged at the suit's legs and it unpeeled. His eyes looked away and his face was still fixed in that mockery of a smile.

Revan peered down at herself. Selkath-belly white skin, slick from the healing bacta oil, and she was so thin now she could count her ribs. She pulled the rest of the suit off herself, trembling a little with the effort, and shivered as the air hit her exposed skin. The face last. She ran her hand over her features-they seemed intact. Her fingers caught on the piece of heavy cold metal around her neck. The edges were sunk in her skin as if it had grown there. "What is this?" she asked him.

"Something we picked up from Suvam Tan on Yavin," Carth said. "It...blocks force powers."

"Why would you—" Revan shivered again, remembering how good it felt, the whisper and then the rush as the lightning and the red fire leapt from her hand and guided her blades. The thrill of bending a mind and feeling it obey, exultation at making your enemies cower, lost in their mind's own torments...As if he sensed her thoughts from her expression Carth got up and turned away, facing the door.

"You can't get it off," he said, even as her fingers were fumbling to find the catch in the metal. "The sensors say you've recovered enough to move around. Get dressed. Move around. We'll be on the bridge when you're ready to talk, Canderous, Zaalbar and I."

She was sitting up now, looking down at her skin and her arms. Dark veins under the surface like traces of patterns in some long-forgotten tongue. She'd looked like this before, and thought it beautiful. Now it seemed ugly and wrong and he wouldn't look at her. "Carth!" she called frantically, pleading for reassurance. No matter how bad it was, he was always there for her—why was he looking away now?

"I love you, Revan," he said roughly, staring at the door lock. The door opened and he walked away from her without a backwards glance.

There were no mirrors in the room but a ship is made of metal and there are always some surfaces polished enough to hold a reflection. Revan sat there for a long time staring at hers in the watery glow of the medical sensor's container module. Skin so white it looked gray, and yellow eyes that burned sadly out of a face mottled with the ravages of the dark side. The face that drove armies, the face under the mask. Her old face, back again like a bad ghost. Her eyes had been green when Carth first admired them on Taris, but they weren't now. Someone had lopped off her topknot and her hair grew in an uneven matted stubble. Grew in red, not black.

Polla's hair was black. Not mine. I dyed it, every time the roots grew in I dyed it and I never thought about why.

Eventually, she toddled over to the neatly folded clothes in a pile on the examination bench and pulled them on. Her old clothes, a white jumpsuit and a red vest. They'd left a jedi robe for her too, but she ignored that. No weapons and no armor. The door slid open under her shaking fingers and she made her way to the bridge. A few times she fell down on legs that barely seemed like legs anymore at all, but no one came to help her. Revan gritted her teeth and stumbled slowly down the hall.

"Master?" HK's mechanical voice sounded almost concerned as he watched her from the weapons console on the side of the bridge. Zaalbar grunted a terse acknowledgement and Canderous smiled at her. True welcome in that smile, but even he had something in his eyes that looked like accusation or regret. Revan leaned against the doorframe, gasping with the effort.

"I—need to sit down." Her teeth were chattering a little, even though the temperature controls of the ship had been adjusted long ago to the the warm side of the standard worlds. Carth was piloting-seemingly absorbed completely-and didn't even look up from his controls.

Zaalbar got up from his bench and came to her, steadying her shoulders with his great furry paws. The strength of them was enough to crush bones and tear limbs, but he was gentle and helped her to the bench to sit beside him. "You should have killed me," she whispered to him in Kashyyyk, throat aching with the effort of making the proper noises. "I wanted you to kill me then, you know. Why didn't you?"

"Trepidation: the Master is talking about ending her own life, just as the psychological profiles we ran suggested." HK said from his corner of the room. They'd managed to get a restraining bolt on him somehow, Revan saw now—and he'd been disarmed.

"I could not kill you, Polla Organa. My life debt would not allow it." Zaalbar looked at the floor mournfully.

"I made you kill her," she whispered in Basic. "Mission was like a daughter to you."

"Enough." The Mandalorian's voice was cold. "Among my people war is the point of itself but this is different. The Republic won. Those that fell, we will mourn in their proper time. We all lived. Now we will deal with that."

"Why did you let me live?" Revan said again, this time to all of them. Her voice shook.

"We all have our reasons," Canderous said. "Perhaps they aren't all the same reasons, but they coincide. I promised to serve you and so I will. No matter what you do. And you know what the others think."

"Why, Carth?" She was crying now softly and hopelessly. "You had no reason to save me."

"I saved the galaxy," he said, not looking up from his controls. "Bastila's Battle Meditation will never be used against the Republic, the Star Forge is destroyed and you...you...are not Darth Revan. Not anymore. I know that. I won't let you be Darth Revan. Never again."

"Are we going to Coruscant then? After Kashyyyk? I should—go before the Senate and atone for my crimes," she said, wondering even as she said it if that was what she wanted to do.

"Negative, Master. We will first complete the repairs on your body and mind. Once you are restored, we shall flee Republic space and journey to the Outer Rim. Among the former Mandalorian worlds Canderous has assured us that there are several where even people of our repute can disappear quite effectively. The meatbags argue about many of the details, Master; but on a few points they all agree. The preservation of your life and the avoidance of the Republic are our primary objectives."

"They think we're dead," Zaalbar growled. "They think we're heroes, but they also think we're dead. It is easier this way."

Revan frowned. "Why do we avoid the Republic? I have no love for the Jedi, but—we fought for their side...once...I think before I—"

Bastila's mocking words and her own anger. Come with me and we shall rule the galaxy. "Before I—I'm sorry..." Futile, the attempt for excuses, but she made them anyway.

It's not me you have to apologize to.

Jolee's words in her head, mocking in death just as he always was in life.

"I want them to remember you as a hero," Carth said. Zaalbar and Canderous met her eyes squarely and unflinching, but Carth still wouldn't look at her. The ship was on autopilot now, she could tell by the hum of the turbines shifting with a precision that no human pilot could match but still he stared at those controls as if they were maneuvering through a nest of Sith fighters and asteroids all at once. "They owe you that much. And Bastila too. The war is won, does it matter if they think you and Bastila saved them or not? You killed Malak, the disrupter shield went down, the Star Forge was destroyed...does it matter so much if we're dead heroes or live traitors?"

"You're not a traitor, Captain Onasi." She tried to keep her voice even.

He laughed, bitterly. "I don't like what the Council did to you any more than you do, I just wish...that somehow the others...if I hadn't run away from you on that damned planet, I could have convinced Mission to stay quiet...I could have saved her at least..."

Revan stiffened. Even the slant of his shoulders across the room in the Captain's chair were like an accusation. "I wish I hadn't killed them too," she said. "I dreamed about them. I dreamed about them a lot."

"We know," Canderous said shortly. "You talk in your sleep."

Chimes and a beeping noise sounded from the navigator's console. Zaalbar got up and slid his oversized bulk awkwardly into a chair designed for a much smaller body. "T-3's picked up inquiries from Renin Station," he grunted. "The Republic wants to know our destination in this part of the sector. It's been closed to casual travel since my people threw out those murdering Czerka slavers." As quickly as the wookiee spoke, HK translated. Carth had picked up the basics of Shryiiwook, but Canderous was bad at languages and only knew a few words of it.

"Well, here we go," Carth muttered. "Let's hope Suvam Tan wasn't lying about those codes."

"Codes?" Revan echoed. "What codes?" She clinched her fists feeling useless. "Turn me in," she begged. "Please, just end this."

"No," Carth said angrily. He was tapping at the keyboard rapidly, and then glanced back at them all, frowning. "They want visual confirmation. Damn...Zaalbar?"

"I'll do it," the wookiee growled and slid out from the navigator's chair, making for the communications room at the heart of the ship. In happier times that was where they'd all gathered.

"He's posing as a former slave named Dreeewwooowr that we're returning to his homeworld," Carth explained. "We already gotten permission from Freyyrr to land there, but the Republic is being stodgy about access to the system. Kashyyyk is a protected world now since the rebellion."

Revan frowned. "Who are we supposed to be? Noble citizens of the galaxy?"

He glanced back at her finally, a ghost of a smile on his face like an echo of an old memory. "You're Numu Ran, a noble lady from Alderaan, and I'm Jadro Hin, your loyal protector. Cand' is our hired muscle, a Mandalorian named Emilio Irod. He has quite a reputation in the Core, but since he's reformed he's been fighting the slavers...for the right price..." He shrugged. "It was the best Suvam Tan could do at short notice. HK needs to keep out of sight, and T-3's been hardwired into the Hawk's console to keep tabs on the false registration programs we're broadcasting-and watch the net to see if anyone starts looking for our real selves. So far, the newsvids are quiet. They all think we're dead." He grimaced. "I hope it stays that way."

"They'll feel with the force that I live," Revan said. "The Jedi and the Sith will know."

Canderous snorted. "Blast your Force. They haven't caught on yet. There's a memorial statue being built of you and Bastila on the ruins of Dantooine, and Master Vrook has been on broadcasts across the Core giving speeches about your case proving the nobility and purpose of the Jedi order. Believe me, if they know you live—which I doubt, you've been so close to dead for over a month now that there was barely any difference—you'd be an embarrassment to them."

"A statue..." Revan's lips twisted. Then she frowned again. "Numu? Banthu fodder, wasn't 'Polla Organa' bad enough?"

"Suvam Tan has a funny sense of humor. You'd know what Numu means in Aldaraan wouldn't you?" Carth was looking at her again, and there was something close to normalcy in his eyes. She drew comfort from it.

"Numu means...Dark Lady, sort of. My parents took me to Aldaraan once...when I was—when I—," her voice faltered and she closed her eyes. Whose parents, hers or Polla's? "I-I still don't always know which memories are mine and which are the ones they implanted," she said angrily.

Carth shifted uncomfortably. "We've been trying to look into that as well. Quietly. Revan's—your—background, I mean. And Polla's. Who was she? Is she still alive? Did she exist at all? But you have to understand-most of it seems to be offline in guarded vaults somewhere, probably on Coruscant. Sealed completely."

"I—I want to know. Someday." She closed her eyes. "Turn me in and perhaps they'll tell me before they execute me or mindwipe me again. Isn't that safer, for us all?"

"We went through all of this when you slept," Canderous said implacably. "I'd insult your intelligence if I said the idea wasn't considered. But no. We've all earned our chance at a better life. So we're going to take it. And if you have some problem with that Revan, you'll have to deal with me."

"And me," Carth said softly.

"Objection: it is not appropriate to address Lord Revan in such a manner. Master, I would assist you if you could convince them to remove my restraining bolt, but unhappily all of my personal combat functions are inoperative at the moment . Perhaps later we can betray the meatheads and do some killing?"

"Query: how did they restrain you?" She fell into her old habit of talking to the droid automatically

Old habit from when I made him or when I found him again? Was there a difference?

"Response: They did not, could not do such a thing, Master. It was you who imposed these restrictions on me, shortly before docking on the Star Forge."

"Why would I have restricted your ability to kill?" Revan shook her head. "I can't remember..."

Canderous coughed. "You were afraid he'd kill Zaalbar while we dealt with Malak. Zaalbar was close to breaking down, and...you didn't want to lose him."

"Bastila said I was mawkishly sentimental." Revan's face twisted. She remembered now.

Canderous spat. "As a Dark Jedi, she was as bad as Malak. I don't know much about your force and this light and dark business, but even as Darth Revan again you showed more sense than both of them. What sort of strategy did Malak have, sending all of his forces after you once we'd landed on the Star Forge? Even Revan couldn't have lived through a simple depressurization...And Bastila...when you were reprogramming HK, she asked me what she could do to make me follow her as unquestioningly as I did you?" He shook his head. "I don't want you to have any guilt about her death, she'd have killed you eventually if you hadn't blasted her to oblivion regardless."

Revan winced. "It was my fault," she muttered. "Bastila was young and sheltered. I should have...I could have...if I hadn't—."

"It was the Council's fault." Carth stood up and came over to her, sitting almost hesitantly at her side on the bench. "She was young and you were...you did your best."

Revan closed her eyes. "My best. I destroyed the kolto on Manaan. I caused a civil war on Kashyyyk. I killed our friends. I led Bastila down the dark path. I betrayed you all..."

"You saved my people from the Czerka," Zaalbar growled from the doorway. "Even if there was no life debt already between us, I would have sworn one to you again for that." His dark eyes were blank behind matted fur. "We're cleared for landing." The wookiee continued. "As Mission would have said, they bought our story. Hook, line and tractor beam."

Revan nodded, trying not to flinch under his gaze. "I miss her," she said quietly, edges of tears in her eyes again. Carth put a cautious hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him. He smelled like spice and space oil, comforting and familiar. In the background, HK translated Zaalbar's words for Canderous. Carth's arms tightened around her and she lifted her chin, meeting his eyes.

"You saved my son, and Yuthura Ban on Korriban," he said quietly, his eyes scanning her face. "And all those other kids. You did that even after you knew the truth about being Revan. You found Griff—worthless wretch that he is. You brought water to the Sand People on Tatooine and reconciled Bastila with her mother. On Taris you saved hundreds from certain death with the rakghoul serum and showed the people of the Undercity the way to their Promised Land. On Manaan you saved the Selkath from the Sith. On Dantooine you brought peace between two warring families. And in the end, Revan, you renounced the Dark Side. By doing that, you saved us all." Lightly his finger traced her eyebrow. "You're still the woman I fell in love with."

Revan closed her eyes, better not to see the flicker of doubt in his. Her hands were curled against his chest, and she moved them to the collar at her neck. Around it her skin pulsed in protest, and the weight of it burned. "I saved you all from me. It's fine," she said quietly. "I understand. I don't trust myself either."

---

Zaalbar was a fair pilot and took over the controls. Carth took her back to her cabin and sat with her for a time, holding her hand. "Why do I still look like this?" she asked him quietly. "I look like a sith lord."

"We don't know," he said hesitantly. "You—I think it's getting better a little. The dark lines have faded, and your hair is coming in again. Coming in red." He smiled. "I like redheads. At first, it just fell out in patches." His hand tightened on hers. "I don't care what you look like, you're still the woman I love."

"I feel dead inside," she said. "With the force gone, I'm blind. I feel like I'm starving somehow, like it was feeding me and now it's gone."

He grinned at her, a shadow of his old careless pilot's grin, the one he'd used when they slipped through the Sith blockade on Taris. "Welcome to the land of us mortals, milady," he said. "Most of us get by just fine without the use of the force. And may I remind you; the force didn't stop Darth Bandon or Calo Nord. We used plasma grenades for that. Plasma and adhesive, nothing better in a tough fight. I taught you that, soldier."

Revan laughed faintly. "I used thermal detonators on Malak. And without the vorpine shielding I'd have been dead a dozen times over. She frowned again. "Malak—at the end he asked me to take him back. I remembered things then, things about him and me. We grew up together you know, and he was—we were—."

"Shhh," his hand traced the back of her palm, running a finger down the web of dark lines that ran just beneath the skin. "We all have our pasts." His voice changed, just a little. Uncertainty in it now, and a little insecurity. "Why didn't you take him up on that?"

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Her body was so tired now, tired and weak as a two-day old gizka. "I wanted to," she said honestly. She owed Carth Onasi that much. "But we had different plans for the sith, and I knew he'd never agree to mine. He'd try and kill me, it was inevitable. Leaving both him and Bastila both alive would have been like harboring a nest of kirath vipers. I was fonder of him, but I needed her more."

Needed her to win.

"You go away from me when you talk like that." Carth pulled his hand away.

"I don't know myself, Carth," she said bitterly. "Not anymore. I wonder if the old Revan ever did."

"What were your plans for the Sith?" There was no expression in his voice. She opened her eyes again and looked at him, saw him flinch under the gaze that was no longer quite human. Revan grimaced. "I wanted to change them, once I'd taken my revenge on the Jedi, Carth. The Republic was-I thought-only an obstacle. I thought what mattered was the force and the things people did trying to serve one side of it or the other. Jolee was the smartest one of us about that, I always thought...he—always said the force was more than just good or evil."

Always said that up until the end. In the end he picked a side, and I killed him for it.

Revan swallowed hard. "I hate the Council, Carth. I can't help that. I tried to think of them mercifully for so long...but what they did to me...no one is without a chance for redemption they say-but did they try and redeem me? No. They wiped my mind and destroyed it. They should have let me die. They should have talked to me, explained things to me, they should have done something—anything but what they did."

"I know." His voice was sad. "Revan. I don't forgive them either, but there's something I've learned, working with Canderous these past few months. You don't always have to forgive your enemies, but sometimes you do need to just walk away. Call it a draw. Go live your life. That's all I want to do now and I want you to be a part of it. I hope...you can let this go."

She smiled wanly up at him. "I promise to try. If they let me." Her voice broke and she wiped her eyes. "Thank you for giving me the chance."

You always were a fool Carth. But I love you.