DAMN YOU FANFICTION, FOR DESTROYING MY SECTION BREAKS!
Ugh. Yeah, so I'm back, and I'm looking over this to edit it and BAM! My section breaks are gone! Everywhere! Bastards.
Teaser: An innocent Jedi Padawan, cast to the clutches of an evil Sith Lord, a man she has been taught to despise and see as a monster. But what happens when the man she finds beneath that mask is nothing like she imagined? What happens when her soul sees his and recognizes that they have a mutual need, resulting in a bond that comes about despite her best efforts to refuse this wickedly fascinating man?
A tall figure, clad in a black cape and robes, hooded, masked, and encased in a suit of reddish-black armor stared out into the vast expanse of darkness before him, waiting. A battle was raging on around him, ships were exploding in balls of brilliantly flaming debris, laser fire was thick, vacillating between green and red, the Sith and the Republic battling for this small stretch of space. He seemed to almost be bored with the battle as it progressed, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread a little wider than shoulder width for balance as the ship rocked from the explosions that ripped through other craft's hulls and tried vainly to bring the ship he was on down with each hit.
He made a mental note to promote the young commander on his flagship to Vice Admiral – the man was a quick thinker on his feet, a formidable tactician, loyal, and perhaps most of all, had the gift of foresight that seemed to be lacking from so many other commanders. The man always calculated the risks long term, as well as short term, and it had already paid off many a time.
Turning his masked head slightly, he saw that a group of Jedi had boarded his flagship and were systematically making their way up to the command deck where he was currently standing. Suddenly, the door to the command deck came flying out of the wall, the duracrete explosion ripping the metal to shreds and allowing a contingent of Republic soldiers to flood the room. An intense firefight commenced, and yet still, he did not turn his gaze away from the stars. Two soldiers tried unsuccessfully to sneak up behind him; one met his end by being Force-thrust into the power conduit next to his armored body; the second was lifted off the ground and choked, though not fatally.
He felt the Jedi enter the room – three of them – and finally killed the man with a telepathic squeeze on his throat, his trachea collapsing with a sickening crunch and his neck snapping with an equally loud and visceral crack. If anything, the armored man's boredom only seemed to increase as the Jedi cautiously approached from behind him, the hum of their three lightsabers audible to his ears, even over the chaos that was ensuing outside the metal walls that protected them. He finally turned, calling his lightsaber to his right hand and twirling it once, lazily, and bringing it to a rest with the tip pointing towards the female in the front of the Jedi strike team, his crimson blade parallel to the floor and about shoulder height.
"You cannot win, Revan," the female in the front told him with a falsely confident voice. Revan could feel the fear rolling off of her in tidal waves, and commended her for her bravery to confront him, even though he could tell she knew she would likely die on this command deck. He felt a flicker of an emotion that seemed eerily familiar to empathy and stared hard at the young woman in front of him. She was of medium height, maybe 5'6", and had a slim but athletic build that was infinitely accentuated by the taupe body suit she wore that clung to her every curve. Her hair was a dark brunette and pulled back from her young face by two pigtails, one on either side. Her face itself glistened with sweat, making strands of her dark hair stick to her skin; Revan noticed at once the color of her eyes – a light grey that seemed to draw his eyes to hers, as much as he tried to look away.
"Bastila, we need to hurry," one of the other Jedi told her in a strained voice, obviously not happy with the situation either. Revan smiled beneath his mask; so this was the famous Bastila Shan, Padawan of the Jedi Order and student in the art of Battle Meditation. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he processed this information. Why would the Jedi Order send the one person who had been keeping them from being utterly defeated into battle, and to confront the Dark Lord of the Sith no less? Either they were very desperate, or they knew something he didn't, and Revan had a feeling it was the latter.
Ignoring that new information for the moment, Revan advanced slowly on the trio of Jedi in front of him, a satisfied smirk underneath his mask as they backed up at his pace, never letting him come any closer. He lunged suddenly, cutting down the Jedi to Bastila's left and watching her reaction as her friend's lifeless body dropped heavily to the metal floor with a dull thud. Her face remained impassive for the most part, but he could see the anger simmering beneath her grey orbs at his slaying of her companion. Revan cocked his head at the Jedi behind her and he flew across the room, a sharp piece of metal that was wrenched at an angle stopping his progress. Bastila's head turned just enough to see the spray of blood and the red-slicked metal protruding from her ally's gut before she quickly turned back to Revan, her grip on her yellow lightsaber tightening in much the same way her stomach was knotting.
Revan watched her body, seeing the tenseness, the shallowness and rapidity of her breathing, the way her nostrils flared ever so slightly, the dilation of her pupils making her grey irises appear smaller. He couldn't suppress a smirk at her reaction, thinking how fear was the sister to arousal, their symptoms so similar. He advanced on her, making his lightsaber strikes light and probing and ensuring that she would be able to block them.
"You're going to kill me anyway," she growled at him, the intensity in her face making her even more attractive. "Stop mocking me and just do it, dammit!"
Revan's smirk turned to a grin beneath his mask and he deactivated his lightsaber, clipping it back onto his belt. He spread his arms wide, challenging her silently to hit him, daring her to plunge her yellow lightsaber into his chest. Bastila's thrust was quick and precise, but even so, Revan easily sidestepped her attack and grabbed her small wrists with one hand, wrenching the saber from her hands and tossing it aside, his other arm clamping itself around her middle and keeping her close enough so that she couldn't kick backwards to hurt him.
"Let me go you son of a –"
An explosion ripped through the command deck, slamming into Revan full force and hurling him and his prisoner to the ground with incredible force. Bastila smacked her head roughly against the metal floor and saw white explode across her field of vision, blackness threatening soon after, but she managed to stay conscious. Grunting under Revan's heavy weight, she wriggled around until she could push the Sith Lord off of her. He rolled to the side and hit the deck with a dull thump, his body unmoving, blood forming in a pool underneath him as soon as his back hit the ground. Bastila knelt beside him, a panic threatening to override her rational thought. She was saved having to think, however, as a solitary survivor, a Sith soldier in full armor, skidded to a halt beside her.
"Is he dead?" the soldier asked tersely, his voice strained.
Bastila shook her head. "No, but –"
"Keep him alive! I'll see if there are any working escape pods!"
Bastila's voice was drowned out by the groaning of the ship as it began to slowly break apart. She stared back down at the man beneath her, thinking that she could end everything if she were to just let him die. A strong wave of compassion suddenly gripped her out of nowhere, thinking that she wouldn't want to die like this, and she did the only thing she could think of: she reached out through the Force and grasped his feeble and quickly fading life signature, holding on for all she was worth, feeling strangely coupled to Revan as she did so.
To her surprise, the Sith soldier returned, grabbing her roughly and dragging her up to her feet. He kicked her lightsaber to her hands with the toe of his boot and hoisted Revan up onto his shoulders, sinking under the Sith Lord's weight.
"C'mon," he grunted. "Escape pods this way...two left. You get into one – I've already programmed...coordinates into both."
"Why are you doing this?" Bastila yelled over the wailing sirens and explosions.
The Sith said nothing as he shoved her into one of the escape pods, slammed the door shut and smacked the 'eject' button. He was already in his own escape pod with Darth Revan before Bastila's pod fully made it out of the launch port and was ejecting himself soon after. The Jedi's question returned to his mind.
Why was he doing this?
The entire staff of the medical facility was tasked with the job of making sure Revan didn't die, and they went about it with the air of those afraid to lose their lives. And they were right to do so – the odds of them losing their lives if Revan lost his were high. Malak would more than likely have them executed for their failure. As such, for an entire two weeks, Revan's body was injected with more kolto than it would have taken to save a dying Krayt Dragon and monitored closely until he was conscious. Unfortunately, the doctors had not been able to remove the debris that had embedded itself into his body due to the fact that he had already lost far too much blood. The moment he was conscious, however, he was informed that he needed to be 'operated' on.
Revan's face was stoical as the doctor slowly extricated a metal shard from the Dark Lord's left calf and placed the bloody shrapnel into a pan filled with an inch of water, which was already a sanguine color from various other metal pieces lying at the bottom. The doctor gently probed the wound for any minutia that might have been imbedded in the skin or muscle tissue as well but found none.
"That's the last piece, Revan. I would recommend a kolto tank for two hours, just to get a high concentration of the agent back into your blood."
"That won't be necessary. I am capable of healing myself," Revan replied, using the Force to do so as he spoke. "I would, however, take any kolto injections you prescribe."
"If you'll actually do them, then take these. One every four to six hours for five days. Don't skip. I know how busy you get," the doctor said with a knowing smile.
"My position demands my full attention at all times; you know this. And you know that my visits always brighten your day."
"A joke? Revan, I haven't heard a joke from you in ages."
"You're the only one I joke with," Revan replied. "You're the closest thing to a friend I have. It's why I brought you along."
"You sacrifice too much, you know that? I know that this is a burden you must bear, but you can't deny yourself the pleasures of life."
Revan gave him a dark smile. "I don't. My nights are never dull."
The Dark Lord of the Sith slid down from the medical table, rolled down the pant leg that had been up at his knee, donned the black over-robe to cover his shirtless torso and grabbed the package of kolto syringes from the only man who he really trusted, the doctor.
"Thank you," he said, sincerity almost tinting his always aloof tone, and the doctor knew that he meant the thanks.
"It's my job, and you're the one who got me here. It's the least I can do."
Revan pulled his hood up to obscure his face and exited the medical bay, quickly navigating the passages of The Blood Tide and reaching his spacious room. He glanced at the virgin bed and mused that it wouldn't stay innocent for long before sprawling his large body across its sheets and falling into a light but restful slumber.
The guard posted outside of the prisoner's room felt a chill crawl up his spine as he saw Darth Revan round the corner, his stride purposeful but...hiding a limp, he noticed. Straightening as much as he could, the guard waited for Revan to address him. The Dark Lord paused outside the door for a moment, eyeing the guard through his mask.
"Has she caused any trouble?" he asked.
"She broke a guard's nose yesterday when she came out of the kolto treatment because of the explosion, but other than that she hasn't been any trouble, sir."
"Interesting," Revan murmured, his own thoughts taking his attention for a moment. "Open the door."
"Yes sir." The guard turned around, inserted a small, round key-like device into a lock underneath the door panel, turned it twice to the right and once to the left, then entered the code to open the cell door.
Revan entered quietly, seeing that she was currently asleep, and settled himself at the foot of her bed, pulling up a chair and sitting down to wait. He wasn't forced to pass the time for long, as she awoke within fifteen minutes of his entrance. Her stunningly grey eyes slid open slowly, then flew wide as she saw him now standing at the foot of her bed. She sat up and backed away from him slightly, a dangerous expression affixed on her face.
"Don't touch me," she warned, her tone suggesting pain for one who did not heed her words.
Revan smiled beneath his mask. This was going to be interesting. "Now Bastila, why would I do that?" he asked, speaking in her presence for the first time.
Bastila was surprised at the almost melodic quality of his voice; whereas she had expected it to be harsh, guttural and raspy, it was deep, soothingly smooth and deceptively calm. She also noticed that it had a cold, distant air to it as well, just pronounced enough to be detectable.
Narrowing her eyes at his response, she gave him a deservedly suspicious look. "Could it be the possibility that you are the Dark Lord of the Sith, and are obviously lacking in moral restraint? I have yet to learn what you want with me," she snapped.
"While you are most likely correct in your assumption that I am lacking in moral restraint, it should be obvious what I want with you," he told her, amusement tingeing his words.
"If you think that I am going to simply surrender to your will and become your whore, you are sadly mistaken!"
Revan's laugh filtered through his mask and filled the silence; Bastila found the sound to be oddly comforting, but at the same time unnerving. "I had not planned on it, but now that you mention it, I might consider doing just that." His tone switched from detachedly amused to serious. "I saved you for your Battle Meditation, Bastila. With it, my conquest would be unstoppable and this war could finally end."
Bastila noticed he had subtly slipped in the fact that the war could end if she aided him, obviously trying to appeal to her compassionate side. He had such a generic view of Jedi.
"I am not a spineless puppet, contrary to what you may think. I won't aid your bloodbath just to end this suffering you're putting the galaxy through, only so you can oppress the Republic once you've conquered it," she told him coldly.
"Well then, I fear I must be selfish," he replied, pulling out a metal collar and moving towards her on the bed. She tried to get up to move away, but he easily held her in place with the Force, slipping the metal ring around her neck and locking it, his gloved fingers deft even in their coverings. "If you won't use it for me, you won't use it for anyone else. That's a Force suppression collar; don't try to take it off, you'll only hurt yourself. I'll be visiting again soon, but I believe you'll be in a different room. This one is far too small...perhaps a room closer to my own is in order. Yes, I think that would be best." Revan stopped at the doorway, his hand hovering over the panel. "Think it over. I'm not asking for anything exorbitant." He opened the door, got halfway out and then turned back. "And keep in mind that it could be much, much worse for you. I figured we could start out on amicable terms, but if you insist on resisting..."
The young Jedi watched the Sith Lord go with a mixture of feelings. The creeping sensation of cold hands gripping her spine left as he did, but a nagging curiosity quickly took its place. Why was he being civil towards her? He could have killed her already, but he didn't; he even put her in a relatively comfortable cell and had her fed regularly and given a shower once daily. He was the Dark Lord of the Sith – he was evil personified in a man!
So why was he so damn intriguing?
The question nagged at Bastila till she couldn't take it anymore and forced herself to think of other things. Unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind was his voice. She hadn't expected him to have a normal voice by any means, but she had a preconceived opinion that it was probably going to be a harsh, undesirable thing for the ears. By no means had she prepared herself for the fact that he was going to have a voice that exuded raw power, masculinity and mystery. It was deeper than most, between a baritone and a bass, with an effortlessness – a silkiness – to it that was almost palpable, but had an aloofness that was disquieting.
Now she wondered what kind of face could go with a voice like that. If she was going to be realistic, she figured he would be of average attractiveness. Most men with impressive voices lacked the physical aspect of that grandeur. But if she were to romanticize the situation...
She shook her head to stop that thought. He was a Sith – the Dark Lord of the Sith – and there was nothing desirable, pleasing or redeeming about the man, no matter what kind of Jedi he had been beforehand.
Revan was frustrated as he stabbed a kolto syringe into his calf and injected the healing agent into his body. He was perceptive and skilled at reading people, but trying to read Bastila was like trying to commit suicide without a weapon – it got him nowhere. He knew she would be stubborn the moment he walked in the door, but there was something else there underneath that stubbornness that he couldn't place a finger on. He exhaled heavily and tossed the syringe into the waste disposal in the refresher. He needed something to take his mind off of things, and he knew what would do just that. Allowing some semblance of a smile to light his face, Revan stepped out of the refresher and glanced at the bed, seeing a woman waiting there. He ignored her for the moment, removing himself of his boots and his shirt and depositing them next to and on a chair, respectively.
He turned to find the woman standing there, a seductive smile curving her lips. He did nothing, simply watched her; she placed her fingertips lightly on his chest and ran them down his torso at an agonizingly slow pace, finally reaching the hem of his pants and hooking her fingers inside the fabric, pulling him closer. Revan lifted her, her legs locking around his waist to hold herself there, his hands coming to rest on her buttocks. He carried her to the bed and deposited her, climbing atop her soon after.
No, Revan's nights were never dull - this was one reason why.
(A few days later)
Bastila tried to remove the Force suppression collar for the millionth time, grunting as the electric shock jolted painfully through her body, also for the millionth time. Giving up for the time being, she sunk into the mattress of her single bed only to jump up again as her cell door whooshed open. Three heavily armed guards entered, one stepping forward and addressing her.
"We have been instructed by Lord Revan to remove you from your cell and move you to a proper room. Follow me."
"A proper room?" she couldn't help but asking.
"Yes, a proper room. Though you are our prisoner, Lord Revan has instructed us to treat you as if you were a guest. You will have free roam of the ship; albeit free roam with an escort. You will be able to go where you wish, whenever you wish, within limits. Lord Revan's room is right next to yours. I have not been informed if you are allowed to enter his chambers," the guard explained as she was led down a maze of passageways. "If you're going to try, I wouldn't suggest trying that at night. Or without knocking."
"Why only at night?"
The head guard replied. "Lord Revan is sometimes occupied at night. You might witness something you aren't prepared for," was his somewhat cryptic but graciously informative response. "And he does not let most people into his room."
"Oh," she said quietly. That explained the knocking. That was something she most certainly hadn't needed to worry about at the Enclave.
"Your room is connected to his, however. Any more than that, I can't tell you. Here you are." The guard opened the door and Bastila noticed that it didn't have a lock. The guard must have been serious when he said that she had free roam of the ship. She entered the room to find that it was spacious and lavishly decorated, with couches, a table, thickly padded chairs and a double bed. The interior was not metal, but a painted wall, a golden tan in color, and the burgundy carpet was thick and soft, adding to the luxury of the room. A surge of anger flooded Bastila and she clenched her fists.
He was doing this to try and persuade her, wasn't he? He was trying to make her relax, to make her feel like he wasn't as bad as the Jedi said he was – trying to make her feel comfortable in her new surroundings so as to influence her mood and perceptions. Well it wasn't going to work! She wouldn't be persuaded by his little subtleties and seemingly innocent gifts.
"I hope you find what you need. If you are in need of something, you are to inform the guard that is posted outside of your door at all times," the head guard said. The three Sith left her room, one staying behind to guard the door, and Bastila began to inspect the room more closely. Testing the couches and chairs, she found that they were impossibly soft and comfortable; she had her own personal refresher to use any time she wanted. There was a door in the eastern wall of her room that was locked from the other side and Bastila figured this was the door that connected to Revan's room. She reached out a hand to touch it, drawing back quickly as it slid open suddenly to reveal none other than the Sith Lord, no longer clad in his armor, but still masked and hooded.
"Do you ever take that infernal mask off?" she snapped irritably, putting as much space between herself and him as quickly as she could and thinking that she didn't really want him to take the covering away from his face.
"Only when necessary. I came to see if you were comfortable," he told her, not entering the room.
"Why am I in this room?"
"Did the guard not tell you?" His tone indicated that the guard would face severe punishment if this was the case, and Bastila hastily corrected him.
"He told me, but I want to hear it from you."
"Like the sound of my voice, hmm?" Revan asked humorously. She gave him such a glare that he decided it would be best to simply answer her question. He was in no mood to deal with her if she decided to become difficult. "You are my prisoner, and a Jedi at that. You are crucial to the Jedi Order's success in this war, and you are a woman. Because of all of that, especially the last fact, I feel compelled to treat you with deference. You showed incredible bravery on the command deck of my old flagship, and that is more than I can say for many Jedi I have faced so far. You have earned my respect, at least for the time being. Why do my motives concern you? I am nothing more than a brutal murderer, yes?"
Bastila felt fear mixed with violation as she realized he had just read her thoughts, and had likely done so with his earlier comment about his voice. "Stay out of my mind!"
"As you wish," was his unemotional reply.
"Why is my room next to yours? Surely you don't need me this close just to keep an eye on me," Bastila asked, her curt attitude still apparent in her words.
"It is more convenient for me this way. If I need to speak with you, all I have to do is simply open this door. And you may do the same, if you feel so compelled, though I highly doubt that fact. I will leave it unlocked from now on," Revan told her, watching the shock register on her face.
"How do I know you won't just come into my room at night and try to –?"
"I won't. You have my word."
"Your word means nothing to me," she shot back, though, oddly enough, she felt that he wouldn't break his promise.
"I see that I cannot convince you of anything at the moment, so I shall leave you to yourself for now. I have matters to attend to and will likely not be in my room for the rest of the day. The guard posted outside of your door has been instructed to aid you in any way possible. Talk to him if you need anything. I believe you two have met already. Good day, Bastila," Revan said in his ever-detached tone, giving her a small bow at the waist as he turned and left her, the door whooshing shut behind him. Bastila felt frustrated, even more so than she had felt throughout this entire experience. He was so enigmatic, so mysterious...it was irritating as hell and her curiosity wasn't letting her ignore it. There was no way she was going into his room, though. She wouldn't set foot in there unless she was forced to do so.
Her stomach suddenly grumbled loudly and Bastila sighed. She walked to the door that wasn't connected to Revan's room and opened it, peeking out and seeing that a guard was indeed outside her room.
"Yes?" he asked, trying very hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice, and Bastila recognized it as the voice of the man who had saved hers and Revan's lives aboard the flagship.
"I'm hungry," she told him bluntly. "Where or how do I get food?"
"The mess hall is this way," he said, relief apparent in his stance. "Follow me."
Bastila complied and walked along after the Sith, keeping close to him for more reasons than one. She felt acutely the critical and hateful stares of the Sith soldiers as they entered the mess hall but held her head high, refusing to let them intimidate her. She retrieved her food and sat at an unoccupied end of a table; her guard followed her with food of his own sitting across from her and removing his helmet, placing it on the bench next to him. Bastila saw that Revan had not provided her with a green recruit – the man was obviously in his early to middle forties with a short cropped head of light, pure grey hair and equally grey eyes. Bastila also noticed that the grey hair didn't seem to age him any, it simply looked as if it was the normal hair color he had been born with.
"Didn't think you'd end up in a position like this, did you princess?" the older man asked with obvious amusement.
"Don't call me 'princess', and no, I didn't think I would be in this position – I thought I'd be dead," she replied icily.
"I don't mean any harm by the name, so don't take offense princess. Besides, the name fits you perfectly."
"Are all of the guards as lacking in civility as you?"
"Lady, most of the guards are worse. I'm the nice one, and that's only because I'm allowed to be with you. If I was like this with the soldiers, I'd have been stabbed in the back long ago." Bastila must've looked shocked because he shrugged as if it was nothing. "Ways of the Sith, princess. It's a lot rougher than being with the Republic, but they aren't winning this war, now are they?"
"Why does Revan –"
"You would do well to address Lord Revan properly, lady," the Sith warned.
"Is there some sort of punishment if I don't?" Bastila asked insolently, masking embarrassment at being so brusquely corrected.
"You don't want it to happen to you," was the guard's reply. "Lord Revan doesn't tolerate disrepute. At all," he emphasized. "If you get caught by him, there's no telling what he might do to you. It's much safer to simply abide by the rules around here, including that one."
"All right then, do you know why Lord Revan is keeping me here? So close to him, I mean."
The grey haired man shrugged. "No clue. It's not my problem. My opinion though?" He paused, and Bastila nodded, indicating she wanted his view. "He likes you."
She felt her face flush. "What?" she hissed. "I'm here because of my abilities in the Force, not because Rev – Lord Revan wants me to join his little harem!"
The Sith eyed her. "Lord Revan doesn't have a harem, princess. But I didn't mean it exactly like that. I meant that he's intrigued by you. You're not as...Jedi-like as the other Jedi he's dealt with that I've seen. And you're stubborn. He's probably amused by you as well."
Bastila rolled her eyes. "Lovely. I've always wanted to be a source of amusement for the Dark Lord of the Sith."
"As long as he isn't torturing or killing you, be thankful. Lord Revan can have a volatile temper if so aroused. I've seen it – it's not pretty, not pretty in the least," the man warned.
"What did he do?" she asked, her curiosity surfacing.
"Do you think a man can disembowel another through the Force? Lord Revan can. Ripped the poor bastard's guts right out and flung them across the room while the guy watched. He didn't die immediately, and Lord Revan just left him there. I – are you done?"
Bastila glanced down at her half-eaten food and realized that her appetite had disappeared. "Yes. I'm not hungry all of a sudden."
"I'm done. Let's get you back to your room. Besides, that guy over there is eyeing you, and I don't want to have to kill anyone today."
Bastila followed the guard, threw away her food and then proceeded to walk alongside him on the way back to her room, making small talk with him. By the time they got back to her quarters, she had learned that his name was Sante Wulfe and that he was born on her home planet of Talravin.
"You never answered my question. Why did you come back for us? You could've just let me die along with Revan, but you didn't. Why?" Bastila asked, halfway through her door.
"I'm...still not sure. Maybe the thought of serving under Malak didn't have any appeal. Maybe I felt sorry for you, and for Revan. He's not as horrible as you Jedi paint him to be. Cruel to a point, yes, but he's no monster. What's done is done – you did the same for Revan with your Force powers, didn't you? Kept him alive? We're even."
Sante turned his back to her, leaning against the wall and not glancing back. Bastila was satisfied with his response, knowing that even getting that much of a true answer out of him was dangerous – for him, at least. Any show of weakness was not tolerated in the Sith, and Bastila also knew that his show of care on that command deck, while brave and deserving of a medal under Republic standards, was nothing more than limitation to the Sith. She quickly stripped herself of all clothing and entered the refresher, letting hot water fill the tub. She slipped into the water, feeling the tension leave her tired and aching muscles. Bastila washed herself languidly, deciding that if Revan was going to provide her with the means to luxury, she would take full advantage of them. The fragrances he had left in the bathroom were wonderful, as were the towels. She grabbed one when she was finished with her bath and wrapped it around herself, opening the door. Bastila let out a frightened yell as she found herself face to face with Sante, his grey eyes just as wide as her own.
"S-sorry..." he spluttered, turning slightly red. "I didn't hear anything from your room for a long time, and I was worried that you might've...tried to...kill yourself. It's happened before on my watch, and I don't want it to happen again."
"Th-thank you for the concern," Bastila replied, feeling her legs going weak as the adrenaline left her system, "but I'm quite all right."
Sante nodded and left quickly, grabbing his helmet as he exited. Bastila dressed immediately, not wishing to be caught half-naked again. She was about to slip under the covers of the double bed when she heard a noise coming from Revan's room. Her curiosity taking hold again, she quietly crept to the wall adjacent to his and pressed her ear to it, holding her breath and straining to hear. Though she had no reason to be, a pang of jealousy ran through her as the sound came again – this time easily definable as a woman's moan of pleasure. The woman moaned again, calling out Revan's name breathlessly and Bastila immediately noticed that there was an absence of other noise – namely, Revan's voice. She was under the impression that during lovemaking, both the man and the woman were vocal. Backing away from the wall in disgust and a small amount of envy that she refused to admit, Bastila left this confusing discovery rest for the moment and returned to her own lonely bed, climbing beneath the sheets and sinking into the soft and comfortable mattress. She tossed and turned for a long while, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the other room, but to no avail. When they reached a crescendo and at last ceased, she swiftly succumbed to the call of slumber, darkness cradling her safely.
Revan stood under the throbbing pulse of the hot water from the showerhead, waiting for the woman in his room to leave. He never let them stay overnight; companionship was not what he wanted from them. In truth, he didn't want them at all, but they insisted on offering themselves to him – who was he to refuse? It was an annoyance sometimes, but the pleasure was worth it; it only got bad when they tried to become clingy. A relationship with one of them was the farthest thing from his mind. He would have been just as content with the situation if they were to leave him alone, but politics demanded differently. It amused him to no end that they truly believed that by sleeping with him, they would be promoted, or receive deferential treatment.
Stepping out from the shower, he toweled off and pulled a loose pair of grey sweats on, not bothering with an undergarment. He rarely ever did. A shirt was lucky to ever see his skin if he was preparing for bed and an undergarment had little better luck. Rubbing his head vigorously and drying his hair, he tossed the towel over its holding rack and exited the refresher, seeing that his room was mercifully unoccupied. His skin was still damp and his room was cold, so he did pull a robe over his large frame before sinking into the seat in front of his computer screen. Switching the screen on, he connected to his ship's computer systems and ran through his nightly checks of the fleet, seeing how many ships and men they had lost that day, how many Jedi they had captured or killed, what battles they had won or lost, and what locations they had gained or relinquished. He sighed heavily as the numbers told him today had not been a good day for his army and switched the computer screen off.
The thought of his prisoner entered his mind and he rolled his eyes. She had invaded his thoughts many times as of late, even making an appearance earlier in the evening while he had been with company. This had intrigued him but he accounted it to nothing more than the fact that she was very attractive, even by the standard of women he had the 'pleasure' of being with some nights. He also knew that she was utterly innocent, something that he envied to no small extent. He despised the burden with which he was bound with a good part of his being, but had simply come to accept that he was a pawn in a much larger scheme – much larger than even he could comprehend. Still, his innocence had been forcibly taken from him, and he resented that; he didn't want to do the same to Bastila, necessarily, but he feared that it would be inevitable due to the fact they were in a war, and he wanted her Battle Mediation.
Just how far he would go to get it remained to be seen, even in his own mind.
Suddenly overcome with the urge to see her, Revan drew the hood of his robe around his face and approached the door that connected their rooms. He hesitated as his hand hovered over the panel, thinking that she would probably be asleep. Revan snorted and dropped his hand, thinking that it was stupid he needed to see her. He could see her in the morning. Hell, he could see her any time he wanted – and that was why he wanted to see her now. He couldn't deny that there was something fascinating about her that drew him back, and Revan feared that he was somehow beginning, even over the course of these few days, to develop feelings for her.
You stopped feeling that way about anyone a long time ago, idiot, a voice in his head told him, and he agreed, attributing the pull that she had on him already to lust. That seemed to be the only feeling he had when it came to women any more. Lust, and her military importance. Her Battle Meditation was the reason he had decided to treat her like a guest, and not lock her in a holding cell like the rest of his prisoners. Punching the 'open' button on the door panel, Revan slipped quietly into her room and was enveloped in blackness; his eyes adjusted with an inhuman speed but he didn't notice – he never had.
Bastila was lying in bed, half-covered by the sheets of the large double bed he had provided for her, her face twisted into a grimace and her aura exuding distress. He walked soundlessly to the side of the bed she was closest to and peered down at her, studying her intently, taking in her elegant neck, regal jaw, full lips and straight, thin nose, noticing that her pajamas accentuated her figure, even in their relatively loose state. Her dark, slender eyebrows were furrowed over her eyelids that were screwed shut, depriving him of the view of her beautifully effervescent grey eyes. Reaching down against his will, his hand tenderly brushed a stray strand of her dark brunette hair away from her cheek, his fingertips brushing lightly against the smooth skin there.
She shot up faster than he would have thought possible, grabbing his hand and twisting painfully. He resisted just enough so that she wouldn't break anything but also enough so that she knew that he wasn't going to fight back.
"Whoever the hell you are –" Bastila began before sensing who was in front of her. "Darth Revan," she said coldly. "May I ask what you are doing in my room at the dead of night? I thought I had your word that you wouldn't try to ravage me."
Revan smiled at her feisty attitude, even when in a situation that placed her at a major disadvantage. "I was simply checking on you," he answered as honestly as he could. "Raping you has never crossed my mind." That was a lie, he admitted to himself. But since when had lying bothered him?
"Liar," she confronted him, the word out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She cringed, not knowing what punishment that might earn her. In the dark, she could see his broad shoulders shrug.
"So you've caught me. Are you surprised? I'm a Sith. I'm supposed to be a liar, according to you Jedi. I try not to make it a habit, however."
She suddenly realized that his voice sounded different. "Do you have your mask off?" she asked, almost hesitantly.
"Yes. I just got out of the shower. I don't bathe with it on, if you must know," he replied.
"I'm sure you were trying to wash her perfume off," Bastila snapped, a mixture of unexplainable emotions flaring.
"You heard that?" he asked, sounding genuinely repentant. "I didn't realize she was that loud. I apologize."
"You are telling me that you're sorry?" she said incredulously.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't be? I obviously created a source of annoyance for you tonight. I didn't mean to do such a thing, and for that, I am sorry. Are you expecting me to simply tell you to shut the hell up and deal with whatever unholy orgy I'm conducting in my chambers?" Revan asked, a laugh discernable under his breath.
Bastila's eyes had now adjusted enough for her to see the outline of his body, and to barely make out some of his face. Still, it didn't give her any clue as to what he looked like, as all she could see were shadows. Revan misread her silence as anger, and backed away from her bed.
"I see that I've angered you yet again. I'll let you return to whatever nightmare you were having before I woke you. Good, ah..." he glanced at the clock that screamed the time in red numbers – 00:33 in military time, thirty-three minutes past midnight. "Good morning."
His imposing figure glided silently away from her bed and out of her room, leaving her to her own thoughts once again.
Revan cursed to himself as he flung the robe away from his body, not caring where it landed. What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like an idiot! Feeling sorry for her, apologizing, listening to something other than his logic...
He growled as he slid beneath his sheets, noticing at once that they were clean and thanking the Force that he had a droid for things like that. He hated sleeping in soiled bed linens. Revan stayed awake for a long time, contemplating many things and steadily descending into a fouler mood as the hours passed. He finally glanced at his own clock and saw that it was 6:30 in the morning; punching out a furious breath he gave up on sleep and threw his sheets aside, setting his feet on his carpeted floor. He rummaged through his dresser and grabbed a pair of brief boxers, sliding them on over his body and following those with a pair of training pants similar to those of a Jedi's, but black in color. He donned a sleeveless shirt, also black, with a hood attached with a cloth for face cover – a Dark Jedi flair. He covered his mouth and nose with the cloth, pulling up the hood and clasping around his ears, the trick that kept it from falling away with forceful movement.
For the first time in a long while, Revan wondered exactly why he always wore a mask, even when around the ships. Why did it matter if his subordinates saw his face or not? Chalking it up to being slightly paranoid, Revan grabbed a hand towel from his closet and exited his room, his destination – the training room. He enjoyed training in the early morning hours to get his blood going. He couldn't say that he did it because there weren't many people there, because there were always people in there since they all had different shifts, but the morning seemed to have less than usual. As soon as he entered, he headed for the weights area, stretching liberally before lifting, however, the entire workout taking him about an hour and a half.
He took a five minute break for water and rest, then was at it again, this time attacking the punching bag. He worked that for a solid ten minutes before calling it a morning and grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his eyes from his most recent exercise. Revan felt rather than saw her walk in and noticed with annoyance that all of the men in the room paused and stared. Glancing behind him just to make sure that it really was her, he let out a harsh command.
"Get the hell back to your workouts and stop staring like a bunch of prick-headed buffoons!" he bellowed. "Show her the same respect you would show me!"
"And you are?" a Sith asked boorishly, not recognizing the Dark Lord. Revan flung him across the room and into a rack of weights, effectively silencing the man and letting everyone else in the room know that he was in a dangerous mood.
"Anyone else want to test my patience?" Revan growled and the room was silent. "Take him to med bay," he ordered two guards, jerking his head in the direction of the semi-unconscious man he had just hurled through the air. He walked up to the guard that was with Bastila, the man he knew to be Sante Wulfe, and laid a large hand on his armored shoulder. "If any of them give her any trouble, either shoot them or throw them out the airlock. I don't care who they are, just do it. Everyone is replaceable, even me," Revan told him. He slid his gaze to Bastila and saw at once why everyone was staring – she was wearing the same tight body suit he had originally seen her in. "Do you realize what you're doing to your Jedi friends when you wear that?" he asked, staring into her grey eyes.
She struggled to keep her wits about her as his eyes met hers. They were an arcane and intoxicating color of green set behind dark lashes and below equally dark brows, so intense that she wanted to look away, even though Bastila found that she couldn't. He grinned beneath the dark cloth that covered most of his face.
"Hm. Didn't think so. My men are even less immune, so I would be careful what you wear, do and say around them. I don't trust all of them – you shouldn't either."