Dealing With the Devil Within
Disclaimer: I don't own any material contained within this story. All copyrighted content remains the property of the person, people, or organization that holds the copyright. This story is solely for fun.
AN: This fan fic is about Canon Revan (I.E. Light Side, Male), however some assumptions have been made. For example, this fic assumes that Korriban was the last of the Star Map planets visited.
I flick on my lightsaber and stare at it, as I slowly start to lose myself in the ancient weapon's hypnotic humming. The blade is a brilliant crimson color and the 'vision' of Revan's last moments as Dark Lord of the Sith - my last moments as Dark Lord of the Sith – flashes before my eyes once again.
"You cannot win, Revan," a voice - her voice - calls out.
I grin beneath my mask and call her forward with a motion of my free hand. This is going to be fun.
Suddenly the vision fades and I snap back to reality, back to the present. What Malak said is the truth. I know it. I think a part of me always has.
That's why I've kept on using this lightsaber, why I so quickly abandoned the one I made as part of my training and never bothered to change the color crystal in this one. At first I thought it was irony that compelled me to keep this. The Mandalorian who had it before me claimed that after he killed me he would keep my lightsaber as a trophy. Somehow it only seemed fitting that, since I was the one to kill him, I keep one of his.
Later I thought I was holding onto it to provoke her, to get her to argue with me, to get a rise out of her and tease her. It was in those moments that she seemed the most human. Yes, only in those moments would the logical trappings of the Jedi melt away and expose her emotions, her true feelings.
But now I know. Those things aren't the real reason I've kept this lightsaber for so long. They were just bonuses. No, the real reason is that when I look into the red blade, I feel nostalgic. It's a connection to my former life, to who I once was.
I flick the saber off and remove its metal casing. There's a green gem in my other hand, and I'm going to swap it in. This will be the first time since Dantooine that my lightsaber will reflect my class. I huff in amusement as I think about that. I've traveled the galaxy with a red lightsaber, and now that I'm on my way to a Sith controlled world, I'm swapping out the color crystal? It's funny in a way.
Surprisingly my hand stops halfway to the crystal. I raise an eyebrow and a voice whispers in my ear. "Now is not the time to turn your back on who you are, Revan."
I recognize the voice. It's mine, though with a slightly different tone, a more slick and sinister one. Great, now I'm going crazy.
"Perhaps, or perhaps you're becoming sane."
The voice is no longer whispering in my ear. It's coming from across the room now; and as I look up into a bulk head, I see my own reflection twist and distort in the shiny metal. The eyes darken. The cheeks sallow. And the expression turns from one of surprise to one of steady determination. It's my face no longer; it's his now.
"You," I seethe. "Get out of here; you're neither wanted nor welcome."
"No," he acknowledges. "But if you want her back, I am needed."
"Needed? The ghost of a tyrant: dead, dethroned and forgotten?"
His eyes narrow for a moment, but he quickly recovers from the slight. "I'm no ghost. The living cannot manifest themselves as ghosts. And I'm still very much alive; you prove that with every breath you take. No, not a ghost. I'm merely your true self, rising to the surface once more."
"I'm not you," I assert.
"No, you're not… more's the pity. If you were, there would've been no need for her to sacrifice herself. I could've defeated Malak without any trouble. And then Bastila would be with you still."
"If I were you, she'd be dead," I counter, and to my surprise I hear him laugh at me.
"Dead? Hardly. Bruised, perhaps. Scarred, most certainly. But not dead. She has far too much potential for that. It would be a waste. No, she'd still be with you – tried, turned, and the stronger for her transformation – but with you still."
"Perhaps I like her the way she is."
"If you do then you need me all the more. Malak is a short sighted idiot, but he's no fool. He may not have turned her yet, but he will… assuming his meager reserve of patience holds out and he doesn't kill her first. Eventually every Jedi breaks, even the zealots. Actually, they usually fall quicker than the others. It's the torture that does it. Pain turns to anger, turns to rage, turns to hate. And once they realize that they've fallen into hate, they break. And then you can begin the process of building them back up. It's surprisingly easy to turn a Jedi against all they hold dear… if one has no regard for their feelings. And trust me, Malak doesn't."
"I suppose you would do things differently."
"Under most circumstances, no. In her case, perhaps. She was capable enough, even as a Jedi. She certainly kept you on your toes. There may have been some aspects of her personality worth preserving. And there are other ways to turn a Jedi. Psychological manipulation and emotional scarring can work just as well – sometimes even better – though they do take longer to pull off."
"You're a sick man."
He merely chuckles as if amused by the accusation. "So says the puppet of the Jedi. But tell me, how do you think they'd react if they knew the truth about your feelings for her?"
I scowl and refuse to answer the mocking ghost of my former self.
"You know how they'd react. The Jedi do not love. They'd brand you an outcast, just as they did to me when I left to defend the worlds on the outer-rim. Just as they do to anyone they can't control."
"You were never interested in protecting others," I accuse. "You only wanted power, and the war provided you with the flag to rally others to your side."
"Really? Is that so? Funny, the counsel stripped me of so much of my past, even I don't remember the real reason I left. Yet, you would claim to know it?"
"Fine, maybe I don't know what was in your heart when you first left for war… but I know what you did after the war was over. Even if your intensions did start out noble, you became more twisted and evil than the Mandalorians ever were. Now… go away. I don't want any part of you."
"Then you'll never get her back. She'll be killed - tortured to death - or worse… she'll become apprentice to that traitor. You may not want me, but you need me: my knowledge; my experience; my power, if you're to have any hope of getting her back."
"And you would help me? Why?" I ask suspiciously. "You hate me as much as I hate you."
"Indeed. I despise the mindless drone the Jedi tried to turn me into. But, I loathe the one responsible for it."
"Malak! He was my apprentice, and he betrayed me."
"Such is the way of the Sith."
"No, such is the way of a coward. The way of the Sith is that the strongest must lead. If the apprentice grows more powerful than the master he or she has a duty to challenge the master's authority and take command. Malak did not do this. He did not face me, did not defeat me. Instead he ordered his ship to fire on mine in the midst of an attack by the Jedi. It was a simple betrayal, nothing more. And even in that, he failed, for I still live. He is not worthy of the mantel of Sith Lord, and I… I will rip it from him and laugh as I crush his head under my boot and sink my teeth into his beating heart!"
"And what – before you go off on a complete tangent – does any of that have to do with Bastila?"
"Malak has her. You want her, and I want him. Our goals are compatible. So… I propose a deal. I'll help you find this last Star Map, help you reach Malak's stronghold. You can play the hero and rescue the damsel in distress. But when we meet up with Malak, you just sit back and let me have my revenge."
"Her for him?"
"Yes, that's what I'm proposing."
I don't say anything at first. But I can hear my teeth grind, and I know he has me. I do need him. I'm about to land on a Sith world. I need to know how they think, how to deal with them. And who better to teach me than the one who was once their ruler? "Her for him then," I agree.
And the ghost's face pulls into a pleased grin just as the ship rocks as it enters the planet's atmosphere. "I knew you'd listen to reason. That's the one good thing about you Jedi, always so reasonable," he taunts before vanishing back into whatever dark recesses of my fractured mind he calls home.
"Arrogant Bastard," I grumble before closing up my lightsaber.
Well, it was a little bit different from my standard fair, but I hope at least a few of you liked it. As always, any comments, positive or negative are appreciated. ;)
Have a good day, and God bless.