Author's Notes: Well, this is it, the finale. This is the final installment to the Onasi Legacy. Be warned though, there is no killing, maiming or even so much as violence, save for the odd kick or punch. This is more...well, I think you'll figure it out when you read it.

Parting Gift

He heard her screaming and panting as she sat up. She was soaked thoroughly, the sweat permeating through the sheets and her clothes. Her hair was matted, her hands placed between her breasts, almost as if she were attempting to hold her heart in her hands.

Another nightmare, he couldn't help but think, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the mounted chronometer on the table beside him.

Another night lost.

He glanced at her, the rays of indigo shining through the slits in their otherwise silver room.

He couldn't help but yawn, try as he might to stifle it. "Hey there, Beautiful," he whispered lazily, his hand resting on her shoulder, trying to calm her before she began hyperventilating. "Another nightmare?"

She nodded slowly.

Carth could feel her trying to slow her breathing and calm down. "It's all right, Qiana," he said softly, "it was only a nightmare." As if, he couldn't help but think. It's been like this for two months and today is the one-year anniversary of Malak's death and the fall of the Sith. Something doesn't feel right and I don't like it.

She sighed, slowly controlling her breathing until she ran a hand through her damp hair and brought the other to clasp his hand still resting on her shoulder. "I know," she said, turning to see him, and attempting to form a smile on her face. She wiped a few more of the tears from her silvery eyes and lay down closer to Carth. "I know," she whispered.

He sighed, thought not in relief. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she had another nightmare. She had three the night before; one or two during the other nights, but they had become frequent as of late. He glanced over at her and watched as she lay nestled close to him, her face on his chest.

"Good night, Beautiful," he whispered, kissing her hair.

"Night," she whispered, her breathing back to normal and her fingers gently ruffling his chest hair.

I'll have to talk to Bastila first thing tomorrow, he thought. Hopefully she'll know what's going on. He glanced at her again, seeing her rest peacefully on his chest and in his arms. Something's been taking its toll on her. Is it Malak's death? What is it?

He continued rummaging through his mind for a few more moments until she grunted and shook her head to make herself more comfortable on his chest.

He looked up at the smooth, silver ceiling. Better get some sleep, Onasi. He closed his eyes, knowing that she'd feel much better in the morning. After all, it was only four more hours until sunrise. What could possibly go wrong?

She startled him with a jolt, as she leapt out of bed, screaming and waving her hands.

His eyes went wide and he sat up, looking at her until he felt something sting him across the cheek. Rubbing it, he couldn't help but notice objects fluttering around the room in midair and at a quickened pace. Oh fierfek.

Jumping out of bed, he grabbed her arms, yelling, "Qiana! Calm down! Qiana, it was only a dream! It's me: Carth. Come on, you're on Coruscant now. You're no longer beyond the Outer Rim."

His head shot up, not from the uppercut that connected with his jaw, but from the sudden realization he didn't know where she had gone during the Outer Rim. Any number of things could have happened and he just didn't know what he could do when there was something she wasn't telling him and she couldn't control.

Luckily for him, he landed on the bed, shortly before he tumbled off it again.

By this time, he heard the clattering of objects finally stop and instead, heard them hit the carpeted floor.


He heard her scream out for his name again, though he couldn't be sure how many times she had called out his name. Before he knew it, she was holding his face, while he was seeing two, no three Qianas standing before him.

Better make that five.

"Ugh," he managed, "what happened? I feel like I've been hit by an enraged Wookiee." He rubbed his head and realized he had been hit in the jaw. It would have explained why rubbing his head was doing nothing to dull the pain that was throbbing in his jaw. "Zaalbar's not here, is he?"

His eyes returned to the person before him and he remembered what had happened. "You punched me."

She cast him a smile, albeit a small one. "You can talk. That's a good sign."

Shaking his head, he rose. "What happened?"

"Another bad dream," she answered quickly, her hands tending to his face and the cut on his chest that took him a moment to register.

He felt a warm tingling on his mouth and chest. It took everything in him not to giggle. The Force had a strange way with healing people, and he remembered his time traveling with Qiana, before she had been revealed as Revan. She had healed a particularly bad blaster wound to his stomach.

She had to slap him several times to stop his giggling.

Only the Force could bring out the child in the vaunted 'Carth Onasi: Hero of the Republic.'

"What happened?" He asked again.

She glanced at him and repeated herself, "bad dream. It's over now."

He shook his head, "no, that's not what I mean. What was your dream?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. It comes and goes."

"Qiana," he said flatly, "I want to know." He'd never been comfortable calling her 'Revan.' There were just too many bad memories associated with that name, and he thought he was giving her a bit of relief from the name the rest of the Galaxy knew her by, rather than adding to it.

The sad truth of it all, however, was that every time he heard someone mention Qiana by her former name, he found flashbacks of his memories of Morgana and Dustil, shortly before he saw his home in ruins and his planet on fire.

"I'm fine, Carth. Really."

He blinked once, and then twice and still continued his plain stare.

"Really," she repeated; her eyes boring into his.

He shrugged, "fine." He rose and glanced at the wall-mounted chronometer. Two minutes before sunrise. Perfect. He glanced at her and then moved towards the refresher. "Next time you have a nightmare, don't come crying to me," he snapped, grabbing a towel, as he stepped through the doors that hissed open before him and then quickly hissed shut.

He couldn't help it; he cast the towel on the floor and stared at his reflection from the mirror. What is she hiding from me? Why doesn't she want me to help her? He gritted his teeth, knowing he would grow more frustrated with each passing moment. What is really causing her to break down like this? He turned the tap and threw water on his face, cooling his temper—or so he imagined—and he begun the daily ritual of getting ready for another day on the job, organizing fleets and preparing to initiate the Restoration Projects on the battered world of Telos.

Telos had been one of the first planets to fall under Darth Malak's reign of terror and it certainly wasn't the last. Carth could only hope that Telos, serving as a test bed for other potential candidates in this project, would succeed.

It would be good to have a home on Telos again, he couldn't help but think, trying to take his mind away from the unseen problem that troubled Qiana.

Unfortunately, it proved to be much harder than he expected.

The doors hissed open and she came in, towel wrapped around her body, covering her chest to her shins.

Her long dark hair came down on her shoulders and along her back, some of it on her chest, covering her hands that held the two ends of the towel.

He couldn't help but admire her form.

Snap out of it, Onasi, he thought, returning his eyesight to his reflection. He brandished a shaver and began to get rid of a few days' worth of stubble while she walked towards him, her eyes on him.

"I'm sorry, Carth," she finally said, breaking the silence between the pair. "I know you're trying to help me and I don't seem to know what the problem is."

He glanced at her in the mirror and gave her a hard look. He turned back to face his reflection and continued shaving, wiping out the hairs under his chin.

She sighed, pressing herself closer to his back, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "I know you're upset, but please, understand I don't mean for any of this to happen."

"Of course you don't. You're just happening to have nightmares about something and you don't want to tell me. You're leaving me out of the loop and it's not your fault that I happen to care about what's happening," he replied, each word dripping with sarcasm. He brought the shaver across his left cheek.

He felt her face leave his back and he could feel that wave of coldness seeping into him. He never liked feeling so exposed and vulnerable at all, and it didn't do well to have the former Dark Mistress of the Sith standing behind him.

"I'm sorry, Carth," she whispered, stepping out of the room.

He sighed, "for the love of the Force."

Don't go back, some part of him said. She's only doing this to hurt you again, to betray you.

"But I trust her," he whispered. "How could I be so stupid and let her think this is her fault?"

She's only going to hurt you in the end. It's better to let her walk away.

"She needs some time to relax—I have to give her some space to figure out what the hell is going on," he replied to the thought, his eyes looking into his reflection, only to see another Carth Onasi standing before him, clad in his Republic Naval Uniform when he was on the Endar Spire.

Remember Saul? You trusted him—you gave him some time and what did he do? He destroyed Telos and killed Morgana.

His hand tightened on the shaver, finishing the right side of his cheek, leaving only a goatee on his face. "Revan's not like that!"

See? You called her 'Revan,' not Qiana.

He sighed. "I love her, and whatever is harming her, it's—it's not my place to argue with her. She's got a problem and I need to help her."

She will leave you to suffer, Carth. If she regains her memories, then she will revert to Revan and what then? Will you let her become the bane of the Galaxy once more?

He shook his head. "No, that's where you're wrong. She'll always be Qiana. Revan may be long gone, but now she's Qiana, the Jedi Knight who stopped Malak and the Sith. She's a hero. Period."

Heroes have been known to become conquerors, Carth. Remember that…

He inhaled sharply and removed his towel, throwing it aside and moving towards the shower. Maybe the shower will help me calm down, he couldn't help but think, as he entered the shower and let it run down his body.

I'll have to talk to Bastila as soon as possible.

It was a warm and sunny day on Coruscant, filled with meager people who attempted to play busy, with very few sitting down to admire the fact that there were some things to treasure about the planet.

The sun gave them warmth that hardly bothered anyone at all.

Carth sat down on a café terrace, sipping bothan coffee, while he spoke to Bastila, who now drank some mild Telosian tea.

"I'm glad you could see me out of your busy schedule, Bastila," he began, smiling friendly. "It's been so long since we've had a chance to speak."

She nodded. "Indeed it has, Carth—or should I say Admiral?" She gave him a wink and he couldn't help but widen the smile on his face.

"Well, you can call me Carth, though if Brass ever found out about it, we'd be in trouble." After sharing a brief laugh with Bastila, he cleared his throat, ready to get down to business. "No, I'm afraid the reason why I have come is for a certain counterpart to us. Qiana has been acting strange as of late, and I don't know why."

"Oh?" Bastila asked, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Well she's been acting…erratic. She's been having nightmares on a consistent basis now—for almost two months. Just the other night she had three major ones. I tried to talk to her, to calm her down, but she hit me good." He instinctively rubbed his jaw, remembering the uppercut she had delivered to him. "And when I tried to talk to her about it, she shrugs it off, saying it's been a nightmare and nothing more."

Bastila nodded. "Well, Carth, I will admit something to you. I have never seen her come into the Jedi Temple so haggard, even for someone such as herself. I had thought that perhaps the two of you had quarrels, but it would appear not."

He couldn't help but raise a brow. "Quarrels?"

She shook her head. "That's not the point. I've noticed her acting erratic. Just the other day, I saw her in the Temple Library, researching systems that went beyond the Outer Rim."


She nodded, taking a sip of her drink.

"Is she planning another war?"

Bastila shook her head. "I can't honestly say. When I tried to approach her or even feel her through our bond, she simply shied away from it and blocked my attempts to see how she felt. She's been doing that for almost three and a half months."

He couldn't help but rub his chin. "Something doesn't feel right."

She nodded in agreement, taking another sip of her tea.

"Thanks anyway, Bastila. We'll need to bring this up with her."

"Wait," Bastila said, stopping Carth from completely rising out of his chair. "She might be willing to speak to us both if we talk to her. It's worth a try, at least, isn't it?"

He sat back down mulling over the thought. "Do you think it would work?"

She shrugged. "Revan—I mean, Qiana, has always been unorthodox. I am not quite sure she'll listen to us both. She never did before when we were searching for the Star Forge."

Carth nodded, remembering that time.

Qiana never did like taking orders from anyone, especially Bastila. When they had rescued her on Taris, Qiana almost drove a fist into Bastila's face for not even thanking her in the slightest.

It was up to Carth to prevent them from killing each other, and most of the time, Qiana was the one who tried to do the killing.

He sighed. "Let's talk to her together. Come on, she's probably resting at home."

Bastila nodded, not fazed in the slightest by the last part. She had come to terms with the fact that Qiana had opted not to listen to the Jedi Code and furthermore, had chosen to live away from the comfort of the Jedi Temple.

She may have been Revan, but as Qiana, she had opted for a life that was better than her previous one.

After downing the contents in their cups, they rose, taking the next taxi back to Carth's home.

As they arrived, they entered the suite, hoping that Qiana would still be there, meditating or sleeping.

"Hello?" Carth called out, as he walked through the doorway. "Qiana? Bastila's here!"

He heard nothing. Glancing at Bastila, he whispered, "she might not be home."

Bastila frowned. "I'm not too sure about that. I feel…something here."

He nodded. He went through the door and Bastila followed, as the doors hissed closed behind her.

"Make yourself at home," he said, casting his worn Republic jacket on the sofa.

He continued to walk around the home, calling out her name before he stopped by a doorway to the terrace and heard grunting.

He glanced at Bastila and she nodded.

There was more grunting, followed by a low cry.

"That's it," he growled, removing the worn blaster at his side. He pushed the door open, pointing his blaster around the terrace, only to come face to face with Qiana and her angry blue lightsaber.

Bastila had followed suit with Carth and had ignited one end of her lightsaber, only to stop as she saw that Qiana was training with her lightsaber.

She had been training with not one remote, but rather ten.

Deactivating her lightsaber, Qiana saluted the pair and took a few steps towards a table and picked up a bottle of water. After taking a few precious mouthfuls, she glanced at Carth and Bastila, their weapons still in hand and looking quite dumbfounded. "Were you worried?"

Looking slightly flustered, Carth holstered his blaster, and Bastila deactivated her lightsaber.

The remotes gathered and went off into the home.

"Take a seat," Qiana offered, casting a grin towards Carth, who now felt slightly bashful.

"We need to talk," Carth began, as he and Bastila took up seats in front of Qiana.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh? About what?" Her face looked harder, even with the sweat on her face as she looked at Carth. Her hair had been mussed and she was clad in a grey jumpsuit.

He sighed inwardly. So, she's angry with how I acted earlier today. Great.

"Rev—I mean, Qiana," Bastila started, "it's been a year since the Star Forge. How do you feel?"

"You mean after I killed my supposed 'best friend' and usurper of the mantle of Dark Lord? Or do you mean the fact that it happens to be a year since the Star Forge and I've been having nightmares and visions that are my memories of my former self? Either way, I feel just peachy."

Bastila looked nervous and glanced at Carth.

Qiana sighed and glanced at Bastila, her voice sympathetic. "I'm fine, really guys. Don't worry about me."

"Don't worry about you?" Carth asked incredulously. "What do you mean? You've been having nightmares and you haven't been talking to us about it."

Qiana brought a hand to her face, rubbing the sweat off her. "Look, I'm fine. They're nightmares, but I can handle it. I just—I just need some time to myself, that's all. Dreams fade, and I'll be fine."

"What about you searching through the Jedi Temple's Archives for the Outer Rim systems?" He asked, his voice sharp.

"Carth, please," Bastila snapped, her voice pleading with the Jedi in Qiana and scolding the foolish man in Carth.

Qiana sighed. "Look, I'll be fine for tonight's ceremony if that is what you're worried about." She completely ignored Carth's line of questioning. She rose and left through the doors, with Bastila in hot pursuit.

Carth sat there, under the words of wisdom from Bastila. Otherwise known as her stern glance. He rose, slowly following them until he stood at the corner of the door.

"Please, Qiana, we're just concerned. We're your friends and we care about you." Bastila's voice was sincere and her eyes begging Qiana to at least give her some mention of what had been plaguing her. "You've been tired and off your game. I've felt it in you—I don't have to see it. There's something bothering you."

Qiana paused, looking at Bastila, her eyes occasionally wandering off. "I'm fine, really Bastila. It's just that…well, I don't know." She sat down on the sofa, Bastila sitting next to her. "I've been having visions—or memories of what I did as…well, as Revan." Her eyes glanced to a vase, filled with a rare Telosian plant that had been growing since she and Carth had gotten the apartment.

Bastila took her old friend's hand, causing Qiana to rest her head on Bastila's shoulder. "It's only natural, Qiana. The Force is strong in you. Your old memories may be returning to you, but with the proper guidance--,"

"No," she interrupted, taking her head off Bastila's shoulder and looking her in the eye. "I can't suppress it—not at all. I have to accept it. I've done some terrible things. I've killed people, I've crushed them, and I've done all sorts of things." She shook her head. "I can't go back. Not after what I've done." Tears began to form in her eyes, undoubtedly from her remembering the things she did as Darth Revan.

"Qiana," Carth began, walking towards her.

"No, Carth," she whispered, taking a step back. "I can't go back to being 'Qiana.' The Jedi may have given me a second chance, but I haven't redeemed myself. I've only prolonged the inevitable." She wiped the tears out of the corner of her eyes before she glanced at either of them.

Carth took a step towards her. "Whatever it is, Qiana, we can face it together. I won't let you do this alone."

She looked up at Carth. "Carth, I have to go far away. That's why I was looking through the Jedi Archives. There's something dark coming through the Galaxy and I had bred my army to be strong enough to face it. That's why I was taking the Republic by force. The Masters would never have understood why. I have to stop them from eliminating us. They're more powerful than you can imagine."

"What are you talking about, Qiana?"

"I-I can't say anymore, Carth. I'm sorry." She lowered her head and wiped her tears before she managed to calm herself. "I'm sorry. But I will be fine. I just need some time to myself."

Carth nodded, feeling weak and powerless to help her. A cold feeling settled in the base of his stomach as that dark voice returned. She's going to betray you, Carth. You can already see how she's reverting. His fists slowly began to clench and he was growing angry as he looked her.

Bastila glanced at Carth, her brow furrowing, until she recognized what was going on in Carth's mind.

His fear of betrayal had been one of the topics Qiana had confided in her and Bastila could see how he was going to deal with Qiana's issue. This was something she knew she'd have to stop before it grew any worse. "Carth," she began. "Maybe it is better if you stepped outside for a moment. Allow us a chance to speak in private."

He shook his head. "No Bastila. I want to know what the hell is going on here and now." He stared at Qiana hard. "What makes you think you have any right to do this? You can't just waltz in here and play with my feelings, Qiana! You can't just shut me out of your life and let me in when you feel like it! What's going on?"

She looked at Carth with incredulity and in that moment, she finally gave in. She slapped Carth across the face and stormed out. "How dare you think that this is about you!" She left the room, followed by the audible hissing of the door.

Bastila sighed and rose. "Carth, sit down, I'm going to go see if I can talk to her."

He nodded and slumped down on his sofa. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He brought both of his hands to cover his face and after another moment, rubbed his eyes and looked out.

It was the afternoon and soon the evening would follow, signifying the celebration the Republic was having in honour of those who had defeated the Sith Empire and Darth Malak.

He ran his hand through his hair. A small aching pain was coming from his side. Something was grazing into his hip and waist. Rising, he pressed a hand to it and realized what it had been. Removing it from its holster, Carth sat down and studied his old, worn blaster pistol. It had been through six wars, two of which Carth had been present for, and it would see itself passed on for many more years to come.

It had been in the family for so many generations, often given as a parting gift to those that were ready to take on the family's legacy of upholding peace, justice and tradition. The Onasi family crest was imbedded in the blaster as a reminder of what the weapon represented.

The blaster had been a founding gift, symbolizing the family's spirit in fighting for what they had believed in.

Carth remembered the stories his father had given him when he had used the blaster. The family normally had one custom built for each Onasi, and they would give the blaster to their family member and have another built for their line.

He sat there, remembering his family's tradition, knowing full well that he felt he had fulfilled it when he had given Dustil his very own blaster.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he never truly made Qiana a member in the family.

He had proposed to her, he lived with her, but he never truly gave her something that was a part of his legacy so she could build hers.

"She's been there for me ever since I could remember," he muttered. "I loved her then as I love her now." His eyes shifted towards a wall that had holographic images of him and Qiana at places, including their short-lived trip on the Rakatan homeworld. "So why am I worried about her betraying me?" He shook his head, glancing out of the window and towards the Jedi Temple.

"I'll give her my legacy. A means of letting her know that I will always love her and cherish her thoughts." He looked at his chronometer and his eyes went wide.

He had been sitting there, running through his memories for a few hours. He only had some time to get ready for the celebration.

The door hissed open and closed.

His eyes moved towards it. "Qiana?"

She stepped out and looked at hi, her expression softer and quiet.

He left the blaster on the sofa and walked towards her. He smiled at her and walked towards her. "I…I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, Qiana. I don't know what's gotten over me lately. I love you and I know I should be acting better."

She shook her head, resting on his chest. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I've been shutting you out because I'm afraid. I won't let anyone I love get hurt. I just won't, Carth. I love you far too much to let you get hurt."

He kissed her hair and whispered, "I know, Sweetheart. I know." He pulled away from her, looking at her. "Should we get ready?"

She smiled, and hugged him closer to her. "I think it would be better to just spend tonight together."

He kissed her head again and replied, "I'm all yours, Darling."

She looked up at him, a smile creeping onto her face. "I know."

It was dawn, and Coruscant's sun was rising. Carth stood out there, wearing his trousers and a light shirt, admiring the rising sun, signaling a new day.

He didn't know where the day would take him, nor the future for that matter, but he knew that whatever it held for him, it held an even greater destiny for Qiana.

He sighed. I hope I know what I am doing, letting her go like this.

In his hands, he held the blaster close to him and he gripped it tighter until he knew that he would give it to her as a reminder of him and that she would always be a part of him.

He held a comlink close to him, glancing at Qiana, who was resting peacefully, though her naked form shifted slightly. "T3, are you there?"

The droid replied with a series of hoots and whistles.

"She's fine. Just, do me a favour."

The droid whistled a reply.

"Record this message for her."

The droid tweeted and Carth let himself speak.

Qiana stepped out of the refresher, watching Carth sleep. She didn't like doing this to him, but she knew it would be safer to let him stay behind, strengthening the Republic to a threat she felt growing.

It had haunted her for days and she knew that after she had completed writing it on her datapad and left it for Carth to read, she'd feel a great weight off her shoulder. It was the only way to let him know without trying to stop her.

She feared that she would stay and wait for the threat to arrive on her doorsteps, leaving her unprepared.

She shook her head. She knew she'd be doing this to save Carth and she knew she'd be doing this to save the rest of the Galaxy.

She couldn't help but hope to think that she'd return to known space again and marry Carth and finally settle down after defeating the threat.

She left orders, as only Revan could do.

Qiana knew that only Revan had the power to do what Qiana couldn't.

As Revan, she would make sure the Republic stayed strong while she fought a war against impossible odds.

She had done it before.

The only problem was that she had been sidetracked.

Her war of 4 years had almost cost her a victory, until Malak lost sight of the goal.

Qiana remembered each and every detail that Revan knew.

That was why she knew Carth would have to stay back until they defeated the true threat.

That was why she knew she had to leave.

Her memories had returned, carrying with it the burden of a job unfinished.

She would lead her remaining forces that waited for her beyond the Outer Rim.

She picked up her bag and felt a heavy weight. She glanced at Carth, who turned over, snoring soundly. Resting her bag, she opened it and found a datapad with a cloth wrapped over something.

She looked at the pad and read:

My Dearest Qiana,

I know that whatever you are going to do, you need to do it for our benefit. I apologize for wanting to never let go of you, but I know that in order for you achieve what you need, I must. I don't know what those nightmares told you, or what visions you had, but I can tell that there is something left unfinished in your life. I want you to know that I will always cherish the memories we have together and that I will always love you, even to the end of my days. I leave one gift to you, as a reminder of who you are and what you're fighting for. I can only hope it has brought you the good fortune it has brought me. I love you, Qiana. May the Force be with you.

Love Always,


She glanced at him and saw that the covers were now over his head. He still snored and she couldn't help but smile and feel the hot burst of tears stream down her cheek. She looked into the bundle and opened it, removing the cloth and seeing a worn holster and pistol that accompanied it. It was the blaster that contained the Onasi family crest.

She smiled and put it in the bag. "I will always love you, Carth," she whispered, wiping her tears. She cast her own datapad by the dresser table nearest to him and pulled the covers down and kissed his cheek, causing him to mumble something unintelligible, before he turned over.

She turned away and walked off, picking up her bag and leaving the Onasi suite once and for all.

Her destiny lay before her, as Revan the calculating tactical genius was reborn with a purpose. Qiana would find a way to stop the true Sith from emerging into the Galaxy again. She would destroy them before they purged the Galaxy of life. She would do it for the Galaxy and for her friends, but most of all, she would do it for Carth.

Author's Notes: Well, if you've stayed with me so far, then you have nothing but my thanks. I hoped you enjoyed the series on the Onasi Blaster. Be sure to look out for more stories to come. Take care and remember, if you've got a request or challenge, then go to Trillian4210's 'What do you want to read?" Forums.