Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Revan ends up half-collapsed on the couch in the main living area of the Hawk, staring at the mug of caf Jolee had thoughtfully brought her, forcing herself to take slow, steady sips and to stop trying to reach her bond with Bastila - her mind needs to recover from too much use of the Force too fast, and constantly probing the fading bond won’t let that happen. Still, it’s difficult to leave it be; Revan knows what Malak will be doing to Bastila, because he learned it from her.

Pain, and truth.

Once the Hawk is safely away into hyperspace, after Mission had jumped into the turret to man the gun against Malak’s fighters (usually Revan’s job, but they’d all seen the way Carth had had to practically carry her inside), Carth comes back out from the cockpit and they all gather around, still looking concerned, for now.

“They deserve to know,” Carth says, quietly firm. “And you promised me answers, Shala.”

She hardly wants to deal with Carth’s suspicions now, much less the rest of the crew, though half of them already know, so maybe it’ll be a bit simpler than she’s expecting. “You can stop using the fake name, then,” she says, notices how Juhani and Jolee both straighten up to frown at her, though neither of them say anything. Maybe they just don’t have the chance to.

“Interjection!” HK says, loudly. “Master, I have calculated a sixty-three percent chance that these meatbags will not take well to this revelation. If you had allowed me to assassinate them back when we were reunited, we would not be having this problem.”

Good old HK. “I didn’t let you assassinate them for a reason, HK,” Revan sighs, though she smiles a tiny bit, too. She’s exhausted and in pain, but at least she can always count on her assassin droid to make her feel better.

“Wait, what’s he mean?” Mission asks, frowning. “And what are you saying, fake name?”

Revan takes another sip of her caf, leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes. “Shala Dral was an alias the Jedi Council attempted to program into me to overwrite my mind,” she says tiredly. “My true name is Darth Revan. You may have heard of me.” A slight attempt at levity, to ease the atmosphere.

“You’re- you’re Revan?” Mission sounds horrified. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“It’s no joke,” Carth says, and Revan opens her eyes to see he looks upset, angry even, but at least there’s none of the disgust she’d sensed on the Leviathan. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see what she did to Saul Karath and Malak.”

Revan shakes her head a little. “I should’ve killed Karath before we ever left the detention level. If he hadn’t shown up on the bridge I could’ve taken control of the Leviathan, locked Malak out of his own command vessel.” And then Bastila would still be here, she doesn’t say. She doesn’t have to say it. “I should’ve known Malak would be too much of a coward to face me head on, but I thought- I didn’t expect him to be prepared for me, there’s a reason I went along with the Jedi’s little game for as long as I did.”

“This is-” Mission shakes her head a little. “Okay, this is really big, but…” She shakes her head again. “What happened on that ship?”

Revan leans forward, sets her caf down and rubs at her eyes, grimacing. “I fought Malak, in a way, but he overwhelmed me with sheer numbers, and then took Bastila prisoner while I was fighting to escape.” There, a simple explanation that doesn’t touch on her loss of control, on how incredibly unprepared she was, on how she still doesn’t completely understand her emotions. “I made mistakes, I underestimated my old apprentice. I won’t do that again.”

There’s a moment of quiet, then Carth says, “I don’t trust you, and I’m furious that you kept this a secret, but I have to say… Revan, I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before.”

Revan snorts, too tired to laugh, says, “Malak learned everything he knows from me, but he never listened to the important lessons, and he’s never had my skills. And he’s repeated mistakes I told him never to make again in the past.” She sits up straighter, even though she hardly has the energy, says, darkly, “I’m going to kill him for that.”

There’s another heavy beat of silence, her crew seeming to process everything, before Canderous, leaning against the wall, speaks up for the first time. “Revan, you know I’ll follow you anywhere. Whatever you’re hunting, whatever fight you’re in, it’ll be worthy of a Mandalorian. The question is, what are you going to do now?”

Revan lifts her chin, meets everyone’s gaze. “I’m going to stop hiding,” she says, calmly. “I’m going to Korriban, to get the last star map and to retake the Academy. And then I’m going to take back the Star Forge, kill Malak, and rescue Bastila. This is my empire, and I had a reason for building it, and I’m not letting Malak stop me.”

“I can’t let you betray the Republic,” Carth warns, and Revan pushes herself to her feet, carefully, the ship swaying around her for a moment before she gets her balance.

“You already promised you’d help me, Carth,” she says, soft but deadly, velvet wrapped steel. “Remember?”

Carth’s face twists, but he nods. “Don’t expect me to keep helping you once we rescue Bastila,” he says. “And you know, she won’t stay with you once she learns what your plan is.”

“I think you should leave that up to her, and don’t underestimate Malak’s skill at breaking Jedi. Remember, he learned everything he knows from me.” Revan walks through the room towards the crew quarters, still somehow the pulse point of the room even exhausted and worn as she is. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t been in this much pain in a long time, and I’d really like to treat my injuries and sleep until we reach Korriban.”

No one tries to stop her as she leaves.

Revan keeps up her confident facade all the way until she’s reached her bunk, and then she sinks down into it and sets the medpack she’d grabbed off to the side and buries her face in her hands, tries to keep herself from shaking. She’d planned things so carefully, to give her enough time to make sure her crew’s loyalty was sound, to reveal herself at the right moment, so that by the time Malak knew of her and knew her plans it’d be too late to stop them - and yet all it’d taken was a little less than a day to unravel everything completely. Now Bastila is gone, she’s lost the protection of anonymity, Carth is back to spending every second suspecting Revan’s every move, and for the first time she can remember, Revan has lost her certainty.

Up until now she’s never doubted she would take her empire back, that she would kill her wayward apprentice and retake the Star Forge. Why would she? She’s Darth Revan, she defeated Mandalore the Ultimate, she conquered half the galaxy, she’s the most powerful Force-user the galaxy has seen in centuries.

And she’s fallen into the trap every good leader must avoid: believing in her own legends.

“Hey, uh, Sh- Revan?”

Mission’s voice startles her out of her thoughts and Revan lifts her head, looks up and tries to reach for a smile, though she feels too exhausted to really succeed. “Hey, kid,” she says tiredly, scoots over to make room on the bunk, even though she really doesn’t feel like talking anymore right now. “I don’t know if I can answer your questions.”

Mission hesitates, then sits down, but to Revan’s surprise she just reaches for the discarded medpack and opens it to dig through it. “I know it’s weird, but that’s not actually why I came back here.” She laughs a little, the sound more a nervous gesture than anything else, and pulls out the kolto spray. “You said you were hurt?”

Revan sighs and carefully tugs off her Jedi tunic (and now that she’s done with this farce, she can finally get herself some proper clothes - there’s a tailor on Korriban who makes robes for the Sith, who’d made her her favored robes and breastplate before, she’ll have to get him to recreate them) and her gloves, revealing the spidering electrical burns from the mild torture and the lightning. “There’s also a lightsaber burn on my leg,” she says as she carefully leans over to pull off her boots, the action stretching burned skin painfully and making her grimace. “You don’t have to do this, Mission, I’ve patched myself up plenty of times.”

“I know,” Mission says. “But I thought… Carth said the only reason he let you back onto the Hawk is because you were- he said distraught when Malak took Bastila. He thinks that means there’s still good in you and you can be convinced to help the Republic instead.” She shakes her head a little. “I don’t know that he’s right about that, but I figure, if you really were that upset, maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Revan finds, abruptly, that it’s hard to swallow. “Thank you,” she says, thick but genuine, forces back the lump in her throat. “I didn’t plan for any of this,” and she sucks in a sharp breath as Mission starts applying the kolto in careful, practiced motions - it’s clear she’s had experience with treating injuries before. “Seeing Malak so soon, I mean. I wasn’t prepared.”

Mission hums a little, says, “Maybe if you’d confided in some of us, we would’ve been able to help you more. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Revan raises an eyebrow, despite herself. “You’re telling me that if I’d told you before now that I’m the Sith Lord, and I intend to take over the Republic, you would’ve helped me?”

“Well, okay, maybe don’t frame it exactly like that,” the Twi’lek says, “but if you’d told me the truth about you and Malak, I would’ve been better able to help on the Leviathan. All of us would’ve.”

“You may be right,” Revan admits after a moment, shaking her head. “I lost control, Mission, I’ve been so careful to never do that. And all it took was feeling Bastila in pain, and losing her.”

Mission shrugs a little, but she’s quiet when she says, “Sometimes, when you love somebody, you do stupid things when they’re in trouble. Like me and Zaalbar, when I first met him, or the time I tried to save Griff from the Exchange all on my own. I guess that’s why the Jedi are so firm about not falling in love.”

The Jedi are wrong about that, Revan is convinced. But she can’t deny that it makes her feel a little better about the whole incident - which was probably Mission’s intention. 

“Revan?” Mission asks, when it’s clear Revan doesn’t have an answer, and she turns, glances over at the girl in acknowledgement. “Why did you do it?”

That is not a question Revan expected anyone to ask, much less the teenager who until a few months ago had almost no idea what the galaxy at large is like. “Why did I turn on the Republic?” she asks, to confirm, and Mission nods, looking unsure, like she’s worried Revan will take offense to the question. “That’s complicated, kid.”

“I need to know if I’m going to stay with you.”

Well. As annoying as the teen can be sometimes, Revan truly does care about her, and so she sighs and rubs at her face, leans back against the wall. “To understand that, you need to know why I left the Jedi to begin with,” she explains, slowly.

“You left to fight in the Mandalorian Wars, everyone knows that,” Mission says, ready to disregard the whole idea completely, and Revan can’t help a bit of a smile.

“Well, yes. But more importantly, I left because I had the power - and therefore the responsibility, my old Jedi Master was very clear on teaching me that - to save people, and so many of the Jedi I’d grown up with agreed with me, understood that. We weren’t content to sit back and let the galaxy burn on the word of the Council, who we all knew to be complacent anyway.” Things had been, in a way, much simpler back then, before the war and Vitiate tangled everything up. “And we saved people, Mission. We saved so many people.”

“I don’t understand,” Mission says. “If you wanted to save people, why would you become a Sith? They destroyed my home. And that’s not the only planet they’ve done it to!”

“I know. I cut off Malak’s jaw when he did that to Telos and threatened to kill him if he did it again. It’s just pointless destruction, and all it does is sow hatred.” Revan sighs, frustrated again at the reminder of Malak’s complete inability to retain a single lesson she taught him beyond brutality, adds, “I intend to kill him, and one of the reasons will be what he’s done to Taris… and to Dantooine.”

Mission hadn’t known, she realizes. She’d thought Carth would’ve told them all of Malak’s bombardment after Revan left, but either the soldier had decided to wait, or maybe Mission had left the room before he’d explained.

“But you wanted to know why I chose the path I’m on.” A pause, to collect her thoughts. “You may not understand, but I turned on the Republic to save people. There’s something out in the Unknown Regions - some one - and the Jedi and the Republic are both too complacent to stop him.” She shakes her head. “The fact that the Jedi Council was willing to rewrite my mind is proof of how far they’ve fallen from their dogma.”

“But you’re going to kill people, you’ve been killing people,” Mission protests, though she still sounds more curious than anything. “How can you save people by killing them?”

An interesting question indeed. “Haven’t I been saving them?” Revan asks. “On Tatooine, I made an alliance with the Sand People. On Kashyyyk I drove the slavers away. People won’t follow you if they don’t love you, Mission, and for me to protect the galaxy from Vitiate, they have to follow me. It’s the right thing.”

“Why couldn’t you have done this as a Jedi?”

“Jedi can’t make the kind of decisions I have to,” Revan says, and it’s true: she saves people, yes, but sometimes there’s people who can’t be saved, or who shouldn’t be saved, and the Jedi can’t make those calls, don’t even see them. “You have to trust me, Mission - I’m doing this to protect the galaxy.”

Mission frowns. “I don’t know if I agree with you, but I guess I can trust you for now. At least until we deal with Malak. After that, well, I don’t know.”

“Thank you,” Revan says, and she does mean it.

Mission is just the first step - if Revan can make her see, then it shouldn’t be too hard to convince Carth and the others. After all, isn’t the galaxy more important than the Jedi or the Republic, in the long run?

(Revan sleeps, and she dreams.

She dreams of light streaming through grand halls, of art and literature and philosophy, of a dark-haired girl and a pale, tattooed boy giggling as they sprint through the halls. Coruscant is the center of the Jedi Order, where there’s no war and no pain, a testament to everything the Jedi have accomplished over thousands of years. Here there’s nothing to fear, nothing to hate; there’s just Revan and Alek, two halves of a whole, hand-in-hand and laughing.

There’s a loud crash from somewhere behind them as the target to their prank, Master Arren Kae, triggers the triplight they’d painstakingly set up - Alek had smuggled the parts for it out of maintenance after his last shift down there cleaning droids (punishment for their last prank) and they’d spent hours huddled up together in one of the unused training rooms making sure it worked.

It’s a harmless prank - Revan had just wanted to spray her Master with water, in retaliation for being forced to help clean out the Temple fountains - but half the fun in pranking someone is running away without getting caught, even though they’ll both get caught later, and finding a good place to hide. So Revan runs as fast as she can, darts around a corner, laughter trailing behind her. There’s a grate covering a vent near the floor, and Revan reaches out and grabs Alek’s hand, tugs him to a stop by the grate. Help me with this, she hisses, and obediently Alek comes over beside her, his free hand curling into a claw in the air as together they leverage the grating out with the Force. The vent is only a meter or so wide, but Revan’s small enough she can easily crawl through it, and so she does, beckons Alek in after her, and then helps him wedge the grate back into place.

Come on, further back or she’ll notice us!

And giggling softly, still, Revan takes Alek’s hand again, secure in the knowledge that she and her best friend have found the perfect place to hide - flat on their stomachs, sides pressing together, avoiding looking at each other so as not to risk breaking out into laughter again. Arren Kae’s sharp footsteps pass by the grate without pausing, without even slowing down, and Revan turns to Alek, grinning. We made it, Alek.

Of course we did, Alek says, quiet but cheerful. It’s you and me, nobody can stop us as long as we stay together. Not even the Council.

Well, then we’ll have to stay together forever, so no one can ever tell us what to do. I’ll be the Grand Master and you can be my assistant!

Obviously. That’s what best friends are for, Revan. Now budge up, you’re taking up more than half the vent.

Revan will forever deny waking up with tears on her cheeks.)

Korriban is as dry and ominous as Revan remembers, the same heavy, foreboding presence in the Force; Revan soaks it in, appreciating being away from Carth’s disapproval as much as anything else. He isn’t all that interested in seeing the Sith burial and training world, and so Revan gladly leaves him in the Hawk to stew, instead taking Juhani and HK with her.

Dreshdae is full of hopefuls and apprentices, most of them all-too-similar to Malak’s thugs; she’d had a new training regime half-composed by the time of his betrayal, but never had a chance to implement it. The Sith have to evolve from petty power plays if they’re going to fight Vitiate, and if they won’t do it willingly, Revan will force them to. Not violently, but there are so many ways of forcing a change, and only half of them involve lightsabers.

She’s nearly insulted when the Sith guard at the door refuses her entry without a medallion. Even changed out of Jedi robes (Bastila had brought some spare clothes on board, and the two of them are close enough in size she’d made them work), without her robes people don’t recognize her, and when she tries to convince the man of who she is he laughs in her face. Revan is dead, he tells her, everyone knows that.

So it’d just been Malak’s upper echelon and the people who’d served her since the Mandalorian Wars who’d known she was alive. Interesting; Malak likely hadn’t wanted word spread around of his initial failure until he had a success to parade around.

“What are you going to do?” Juhani asks her as Revan takes the path back to Dreshdae. “I heard some of the apprentices mention a Yuthura Ban, we could ask her for a medallion.”

“I’m not getting a medallion,” Revan says, shakes her head. “No, I’m going to do what I was already planning to do, just sooner. We’ll have to stay in Dreshdae for a few days before we access the Academy.”

In all honesty, it would be quicker to get a medallion, but Revan was always planning to reveal herself to the galaxy here, on Korriban, and she can’t be bothered to go through with all the little trials the acolytes have to face. She knows the star map is in the tomb of Naga Sadow, and it’s highly unlikely Uthar (assuming he’s still in charge) will just let an acolyte in. And Revan has no need to prove herself twice.

So she goes to find the tailor who had made her robes previously, and prepares herself to wait.

(The longer she takes here, the longer Malak has with Bastila; but Revan has regained enough of her control back to remind herself that rushing into this won’t do her any good. And she needs the Sith Order behind her when she goes to face Malak again - she won’t let him pull the same trick twice.)

It only takes a few days - the tailor is encouraged to work quickly - and then Revan dons her new robes, smoothes her hands over the breastplate and the blaster-resistant fabric before clipping her sabers to the belt and tugging up the hood. It feels good to be properly equipped again, and as she walks through Dreshdae, and down the path to the Sith Academy, she can feel conversations hush, people turning to stare at her as she passes, afraid of her in ways none of them had been the last time she was here, even though the acolytes and apprentices would’ve still been able to feel her power before she looked the part. She supposes that just highlights how much appearances matter.

This time, when she reaches the Academy gate, the guard on watch actually takes a step back from her; she rolls her eyes (so much fear, when she’s never been a slave to her whims like others, she has far too much control for that), gives them a curt order to open the door, pleased with herself when they don’t ask for a medallion this time or even attempt to argue, just open the doors and step out of her way.

Revan sweeps through into the dimly lit, rough-hewn stone hallway, boots rasping on the ground, Sith apprentices and acolytes scattering out of her way as she approaches the center room. It’s been some time since she’s been to Korriban, but, unfortunately, the Academy she and Malak had helped set up hasn’t changed since then. 

Neither has the man they left in charge, she sees as she approaches Uthar Wynn’s kneeling form. “Uthar,” she calls out, calmly, and the Sith Master turns, rising to his feet - he looks rather annoyed up until he catches sight of Revan’s outfit, at which point he does a double take before bowing deeply.

“My lord Revan,” he says, smoothly, “we were informed you had perished. I see that was untrue.”

“It was,” Revan agrees, crossing the room to stand in front of him, crosses her arms. “Malak betrayed me, but I survived his attempt on my life - I’ve just allowed the galaxy to think I was dead until the time was right.”

“And now it is time?” Uthar is looking her over speculatively, considering, and she appreciates the lack of fear she feels from him. It’s refreshing.

Revan smiles, just a little. “That depends entirely on if you, those under your command here, and your students remember where your loyalties should lie.” Uthar frowns, and Revan looks away from him for a moment, says, “HK, take Juhani to the library - Juhani, I want you to study everything you can about the Sith while we’re here, it’ll be a good learning experience for you. Uthar,” and she turns back to the Sith again, “I’ll give you and your underlings a day to decide. While you make your decision, I have something I need to retrieve from the tombs.”

“Of course, my lord,” Uthar says, though she can tell he dislikes having to address her so; he’s probably gotten used to having free reign over Korriban, and the idea that his Dark Lord is here is both something to be proud of and something to dislike. “I trust you remember the way?”

Revan doesn’t bother answering him, just walks down the northern hallway towards the far exit to the Academy. The Valley of the Dark Lords looks much the same as she remembers it, if better excavated, though the archeologists are still scattered around the valley in their camps. A couple of them look at her as she passes, and she nods acknowledgement, hikes to the far end of the Valley to look out over the massive statues that’ve been on Korriban for thousands of years, remarkably well preserved for their age. The first time she’d been here, she and Malak had stood in this very spot, overlooking the statues, and she remembers the awe they’d both felt, confronted with the legacy of the Sith Lords of old.

Revan had wanted to build something that would last thousands of years after her death too.

She shakes herself, after a moment, pulling herself out of the reverie (for a moment she can almost feel Malak’s presence beside her, reminding her of the days there wasn’t a challenge they hadn’t conquered together) and turning towards the tomb of Naga Sadow, where she remembers the star map is hidden behind a few sets of puzzles. It doesn’t take too terribly long for her to reach it, although she gives herself a minor electrical burn when she accidentally messes up the systems puzzle, but she’s able to correct herself before she causes any irreparable damage to the ancient computer terminal.

Sure enough, the star map is in the furthest chamber they’ve excavated, waiting for her, and Revan takes it, smiles to herself. Now all that’s left is to travel to the Star Forge, figure out exactly what it is and how to use it, and find her way to Bastila. Once she’s gotten Bastila free they can face Malak, kill him, and finally she’ll be back where she should’ve been this entire time: in command of a hundred fleets, in a position where she can conquer the galaxy and defend it from Vitiate’s Empire. 

Malak will regret the day he decided to betray her.

(Revan still hasn’t noticed.

Juhani can’t understand how it’s been months since she first started talking to Carth, and yet the woman who promised to teach her to protect herself, who promised that no one would ever use her again - who Juhani had thought actually cared - hasn’t figured out that her so-called apprentice has practically been avoiding her.

After the Leviathan, Juhani had gone to Carth and confessed, tearfully, everything she’d been afraid to tell him before: that Revan had convinced her to turn against the Jedi, that she’d been following a dark path, that she’s been keeping Revan’s secret since almost the beginning. She’d expected anger, had been afraid he’d tell the others or even the Jedi of her shame, but instead he’d offered her a hug and a choice.

She’d taken both.

And she has a feeling that soon that choice will come into play; Revan is off getting the final star map now, and that’s the last obstacle in her nearly obsessive search for Bastila and Malak - Juhani isn’t even sure which of them she’s more desperate to find. Carth had told Juhani what he’d seen on the Leviathan, when Bastila was being tortured and when Malak took her, and he’d called Revan unstable, behind that tight, tight control she never ever releases.

A part of Juhani is starting to wonder if it might’ve been better for Revan if the Council’s mind wipe had succeeded.

“Report: I have found seven more suitable volumes for you to study,” HK says, walking up to her with arms full of holoprojectors, an actual book inscribed on flimsi, and even a holocron. How an assassin droid even knows what would be suitable for a Sith apprentice Juhani doesn’t know, but she doesn’t ask, just thanks HK.

The Dantooine Enclave may be gone, the Masters dead (and Juhani cannot help blame herself, a little, wonder if somehow it could’ve been avoided if she’d told them at the beginning about Revan’s memory), but Juhani will continue to study the Sith and compile their knowledge anyway, so that whenever she finds an Archivist, she can pass on what she’s learned. And then maybe no one will make the kinds of choices she’s made again.)

Uthar is waiting for her when Revan returns to the Academy, several hours after she left it, star map securely tucked away in her belt pouch. “You’ve found what you seek?” he asks, and Revan nods assent. “Good. We’ve come to a decision.”

It hadn’t taken them long - she’s grateful for that. She’d hate to linger here any longer than necessary when she can finally hunt down Malak, take Bastila back. “Well?” she asks, letting a trace of her impatience color her words.

“We stand with you, Lord Revan,” he says, bowing his head. “Until you’ve had the chance to face Malak again, the Academy will only listen to your orders.”

“Good.” Revan starts for the library, gestures for Uthar to come with her. “I want you to send out a message to as many Sith as you can reach. Tell them to spread the word that Darth Revan is alive, and that I’m hunting down Malak for his treason. Anyone who is willing to swear allegiance to me will be treated well, but when I kill him, I will treat his allies like traitors.”

“Yes, Lord Revan,” Uthar says, and withdraws - good man, to know when he’s dismissed. Still, Revan will have to keep an eye on him once she deals with Malak, make sure he’s not just rewarding students for needless cruelty and brutality. She doesn’t want any more Sith of Malak’s ilk around - that isn’t how they’ll win against Vitiate. They need to be better.

She asks Juhani some about what she’d studied as they return to the Hawk, though she’s only half-listening to the answers. Will Malak hear of her declaration? She’s practically declared war on him, after all, and she knows he has Sith loyal to him all throughout the Star Forge. At least some of them will join her, but she’ll have to be careful not to exhaust herself fighting his minions before she ever gets to him. If she can find Bastila first, give her time to recover from whatever Malak put her through… that’ll help, and having Juhani at her back will be a good support as well. Malak won’t be able to face all three of them together - after the Leviathan, she doesn’t intend to give him the benefit of a fair fight.

When they reach the Hawk, the first thing she does is go to the table in the main room, spread the star maps out on it, and start decoding the coordinate fragments they contain; she’s done this before, even if she can’t remember the numbers, and so the process is nowhere near as laborious as it was the first time. Once she’s got the coordinates, she heads to the cockpit, programs them into the navicomputer, trying to ignore Carth leaning against the dashboard and watching her.

“Found what you were looking for?” he asks, and Revan nods.

“It’s going to be a long trip, but these are the coordinates for the Star Forge. Where Malak is, and where I’m sure he’s keeping Bastila as well. He knows I’m coming for him, and for her.”

The bond between Revan and Bastila is still stretched so thin it’s barely noticeable, but Revan brushes against it anyway, as has become her habit. It’s not likely that Bastila can feel anything other than Revan’s presence, muted as the bond is by distance, but Revan hopes that presence is a comfort, a reminder that Bastila isn’t completely alone, that Revan will come for her.

She will. Malak doesn’t get to take anything else from her.

(This is an important truth: that Revan has never been able to accept her own role in her defeats.)

It’s only after Carth barely manages to keep the Hawk from breaking to pieces on Rakata Prime’s surface that Revan remembers the disruptor field, and the nullifier all Sith ships are equipped with so they aren’t caught in it. She supposes she’s mostly just lucky they hadn’t gotten shot down at all by the fighters that’d attacked them as soon as they dropped into realspace; Revan had been utterly preoccupied by the sudden live-wire flaring of her bond with Bastila, and she’d been operating the turret on autopilot and instinct, had taken far too long to deal with the measly six fighters. Canderous had called her out on it, in more of a joking tone than anything else, but for once Revan hadn’t returned his ribbing.

Bastila is here. She’s close.

It’s all Revan can think about.

Carth talks about needing salvage to repair the stabilizers and the hyperdrive, and Revan suggests Mission take Zaalbar and T3 with her to go look for parts, while HK and Carth stay behind to guard the ship and Revan takes Juhani and Canderous with her to seek out the Rakatans whose help she’ll need to get into the temple. Carth agrees, eyes flicking to Juhani for just a minute, but Revan ignores that, shakes her head and starts off away from the beach.

Time passes by in a blur. Bastila is here, on the same planet, waiting for her, and all Revan has to do is get into that temple.

She negotiates with the Elders, halfheartedly, agrees to kill the One for them, lies and lies and lies as she promises to destroy the Star Forge, promises she’ll go to the temple alone, if they’ll only do their ritual for her.

The Elders agree, just like they did before, and Revan tells Canderous and Juhani to go back to the Hawk, let everyone know what’s happening.

She doesn’t tell them about Bastila.

The ritual lasts hours; Revan paces, thinks, even naps briefly, trying to save up her strength for the challenges within, trying to use the bond to understand what Bastila’s thinking and feeling, how her time with Malak has changed her. All she can feel is a sea of unchecked emotion and hatred and doubt, and it should scare her - a lot of those feelings are directed at her - but there’s also love, and Revan isn’t afraid of Bastila. Whatever lies Malak told her, Revan will undo, and then she’ll have Bastila back, wholly and completely, and Malak will never be able to stand against the two of them together.

She’s not really surprised when Juhani shows up, refusing to let Revan go into the temple alone - she’s probably sensed danger about the place, and she’s not wrong. Revan is surprised by Jolee Bindo and Carth accompanying her, both of them equally determined, and, well, she’d never really intended to keep her word to the Rakatans anyway, and it would take too long to dissuade them - she has to get to Bastila. So she shrugs and agrees, and into the temple they go.

It hasn’t changed from how she remembers it, though now it’s filled with Sith instead of droids. Most of them attack her, and Revan doesn’t hold back; she’d given her mandate. Those few who let her pass she lets live, as promised, and slowly she climbs to the top of the temple. There’s a landing pad up there, she knows, along with the terminal that shuts down the disruptor field, and probably the shuttle Bastila took down from the Star Forge. It’ll have a nullifier module on it, one Revan should be able to remove and hook up to the Ebon Hawk, and then they can take her ship to the Star Forge to face Malak. A shuttle won’t be big enough for her crew to all fit in, after all, and she’s not leaving anyone behind down here; she’s grown fond of them all, even Carth and Jolee, and she intends to bring them all with her when she takes back her empire. She’ll have to find rewards for them all - start funding to restore some of Telos for Carth, maybe the Hawk for Mission, Mandalore’s mask for Canderous.

When they get to the temple summit, there’s a sleek black Sith shuttle on the landing pad, just as Revan suspected there would be, and leaning against it, dressed in black, is Bastila. Where Revan knew she’d be.

Revan finds herself smiling, unable to stop the rush of warmth and relief she feels at the sight: Bastila is safe, and here, and hers, and that’s worth whatever price she might have to pay.

“Bastila!” Carth exclaims, surprised but strangely happy-sounding. “It’s so good to see you, when Malak took you I thought-”

He’s cut off by Bastila igniting her dualsaber, revealing the red blades.

“Beautiful,” Revan murmurs under her breath.

“Revan,” Bastila says, low, as she steps up to stand just a meter or two away. “I knew you’d come for me.”

“I told you I would,” Revan says. “I’d tear the galaxy apart to get back to you, if I had to.” She’d known that, but somehow it feels strange to say it aloud, both dangerous and a little freeing. Bastila’s emotions surge wildly at the statement, hope and longing and rage, and Force, she’s beautiful, a blinding supernova, an endless storm no longer trapped inside a glass bottle, power and fury and an elegant grace Revan finds impossible to resist.

“Don’t lie to me!” Bastila snaps. “You could’ve shown me how the Council kept me trapped, how I was their pawn, how they manipulated me into using my battle meditation for their own gain while they treated me as a child! Instead you let me follow them blindly and use me for their own gain, just as you used me!”

From behind her, Revan hears Jolee say, softly, “Oh, kid…” but Bastila doesn’t even seem to hear, not looking away from Revan’s face.

“Malak told me, Revan. He told me everything, how you wanted me as a replacement to him, how you never truly loved me, how it was all a ploy to gain my loyalty. How long would it be until you found a replacement for me?” Revan’s eyes flash and she twists her mouth into a snarl at the very idea - Malak had no right telling Bastila any of these things when he’s the one who coveted Bastila and her powers first, when she would never have had to replace him if he hadn’t failed her so many times, if he hadn’t betrayed her. How dare he act like the victim in a situation entirely of his own making? “I know the message you had your pets on Korriban send out. All Sith who swear loyalty to Malak over you are traitors and will be treated as such. Well, Malak is my Master now, and by killing you I cement my place at his side as his apprentice!”

And Bastila flourishes her saber and lunges forward into an attack.

“Nobody touches her,” Revan commands, sharp and hard as the stone beneath her feet, and then she draws both her sabers and throws herself into the duel. If Bastila doubts Revan’s feelings for her - well. Revan will make her see.

Bastila has always been good, but now she’s incredible, fighting with a swiftness and a raw fury she’d never had before - she’d always been too afraid of releasing her emotions to fight with all the wild abandon within her, except for once: on Revan’s ship, the first time, when she’d prepared to face Revan with every ounce of power within her. Bastila is even more breathtaking now than she’d been back then, now that her full potential is unlocked, and it’s distracting enough at first that Revan has a hard time doing more than just evading and blocking her attacks.

But it doesn’t take long to pick up on Bastila’s improved fighting style, and Revan throws herself into the fight, taking advantage of the weaknesses in Bastila’s defense, dancing light on her feet, faster still than Bastila is, fighting with all of the same power and more of the control. And it is a dance, nearly, the two of them close enough to kiss at several moments, feet twirling around each other, separating and drawing back together, and the difference between love and hate has never been in the amount of passion it rouses.

In the end, of course, Revan is better, and she manages to lure Bastila into falling for a feint, use the slip to disarm her; the red dualsaber clatters to the stone near the edge of the roof and quick as a striking snake Revan brings both her sabers up in an X at Bastila’s neck.

And holds them there.

Revan meets Bastila’s eyes through the red and violet glow, for a long moment, watching as the resignation and fear turns to shock and hope turns to relief and utter longing.

“You fool,” Revan breathes, dropping her sabers and returning them to her belt in one fluid motion, “I love you, I would never replace you.”

Bastila kisses her. It’s similar and yet somehow so different from Kashyyyk, lightning and fire all at once, no more physically passionate than before and yet somehow all the raw, unbridled emotion surging across their wide-open bond brings the contact to a new level.

“I never should’ve doubted you,” Bastila breathes when they finally separate, her hands still gripping either side of Revan’s breastplate. “I resisted for so long, but the things Malak said about you- I’ve never had anyone love me before. I can’t believe I was so foolish.”

“It’s alright,” Revan promises. “I taught Malak how to break Jedi, you can’t blame yourself for believing what he said about me when he told you the truth about the Jedi Council. They were using you, and I wanted so badly to break the chains holding you to them, but at the time you were too certain, if I’d said anything you would’ve gone running to the Council with it. Then, later… I didn’t know how you’d react, and I didn’t want to push you away.” Revan reaches up and brushes Bastila’s hair out of her face, tucks it behind her ear, smiling at her. “Ask Juhani - if I’d had the chance I would’ve freed you.”

“About that,” Carth says, and Revan frowns, turning to face them, sliding her hand down Bastila’s arm to take her hand, the physical contact a much-needed reassurance for the both of them. “I promised to stay with you until we found Bastila, and we did. But I can’t let you go on to kill Malak and take the Star Forge as your own. So… when we first jumped into the system, I signalled the Republic fleet. They’ll be here soon. And I can’t let you leave this rooftop.”

Revan can’t believe him. “I’m doing the right thing, Carth! Bastila and I are going to save the galaxy, isn’t that worth more than the Jedi and the Republic?” She shakes her head, looks over at Jolee. “What about you, old man? I suppose your Jedi honor demands you follow Carth?”

Jolee looks pained, but he stands his ground. “I like you, kid,” he says in his rich voice. “So I’m gonna ask you not to do this. Let us turn off the disruptor field, let the Republic fleet destroy the Star Forge and Malak, and we’ll let you and Bastila go without telling the Republic.”

Revan scoffs, shakes her head, hand tightening on Bastila’s as something tightens in her chest, leaving her feeling very nearly trapped, which is ridiculous. “I knew I’d probably have to kill you some day,” she says, harsh and biting. “I hoped I wouldn’t, but somehow I knew you’d never see sense.” She looks over at the third member of their little blockade, says, “Well, Juhani? Come on, there’s no arguing with either of them. This is what I trained you for.” And she holds out her free hand, similarly to how she’d reached out once before, months ago now, in a twisted grove surrounded by kath hounds, to a young girl who didn’t know how to escape her own chains.

And Juhani shakes her head. “No,” she says, softly, “you trained me as a contingency plan, in case you could not turn Bastila. Do not try and pretend you cared about me - I was always only ever second-best, and when Bastila was in the room you never even looked at me.” She sounds so much more sorrowful than angry, and Revan doesn’t understand what she’s hearing, can’t believe this - she looks to Bastila, then back at Juhani, shaking her head in denial. “Let me speak,” Juhani says, more firmly, before Revan can do more than open her mouth. “I regret how long it took me to see that your obsessions with Malak and Bastila would always be more important to you than I was. I regret that I ever listened to you to start with - so much pain could have been avoided if I had just told the Jedi Council about you from the beginning.” Juhani shakes her head, sadly. “I now believe it would have been better for you to have lost your memories to begin with - maybe not for you, but for the galaxy, for me, and for Bastila.”

Bastila stiffens, eyes bleeding gold with fury, and Revan can’t blame her; she’s too shaken to summon the same anger, not yet. “How can you say that?” she asks, shaking her head again. “The Council used you, Juhani. Your own Master let you think you killed her because she was so certain you weren’t worth saving!”

“You used me too,” Juhani says simply. Her hand goes to her lightsaber, and Revan snarls, more defensively than she’d like, lets go of Bastila’s hand and ignites both her sabers once more.

“You know what happens to traitors,” Revan says, and Bastila nods, drawing her dualsaber. “You could’ve been my enforcer, Juhani, known and feared across the galaxy, and no one would’ve ever hurt you again.”

“I will not be feared,” Juhani says, fierce. “I could not stop the Sith from destroying Dantooine, but I can stop you from destroying anything or anyone else.”

Jolee and Carth exchange a look, and then abruptly Jolee steps forward, and, in an entirely uncharacteristic move, launches an attack at Revan. She responds, lightning quick, and as she does, Jolee says, “Get out of here, both of you! I made my choice a long time ago.”

Bastila runs to put herself between Carth and Juhani and the door back down to the rest of the temple, but that’s not where Carth runs, dragging a reluctant Juhani with him as Jolee forces Revan away from them with a web of complex saber strikes she hadn’t even known he could use. Instead, Carth sprints for-

For Bastila’s shuttle. With its nullifier already attached and active.

Jolee has turned them so Revan’s back is to the temple door, to Bastila, and Bastila runs up next to her, preparing to throw her saber at the shuttle’s engines. Jolee drops his saber and flings up both his hands, a look of intense concentration on his face, and for a moment, just a moment, the Force is a swirling vortex around both Bastila and Revan herself.

She dispels it with a thought. But the shuttle is already taking off.

Revan growls, spins her sabers furiously and whirls on Jolee, who hasn’t made a move to pick his back up off the ground. He stands there, serene, and gives her one last infuriating smile as she carves both sabers through his chest.

He falls to the rooftop and Revan can’t stop her chest heaving, anger pouring out of her - how dare they betray her and just- just leave? Juhani was her apprentice, she’d taught Juhani, given her the power to free herself, to never have to listen to the Jedi again, and the girl had thrown it all away for what? For some blind, dogmatic view of morality?

Revan is saving the galaxy, she has no use or need for morality. She’d thought Juhani understood that, that this is the right path, that it’s for the greater good.

“She’s a fool,” Bastila says aloud, and Revan realizes her apprentice - her apprentice, finally, after so long, she’ll laugh in Malak’s face over this - and lover has been following the thread of her thoughts. “But for now, she and Carth are out of our reach. We must focus on Malak, Master. The rest of our companions are waiting for us at the Ebon Hawk, and I doubt any of them will be foolish enough to make the same decision.”

Revan forces herself to breathe, once, nods, and crosses the rooftop to the terminal controlling the disruptor field, shuts it off with a frustrated sigh. She’d been hoping to leave it up, to crush the Republic fleet as soon as it arrived in the system. But no matter.

“Right,” Revan says, taking a deep breath, shoving all her boiling rage down where she can draw from it but not let it overwhelm her - she’ll need all the power she can get in the fight up ahead. “We have the fleet to deal with as well, and I don’t know how long until they arrive.”

Malak still waits for them, too, secure in his belief that the Star Forge is impregnable, that Bastila is on his side, that Revan will be weakened or trapped here.

Revan lost to him once before. She will never lose to Malak again.

It’s a long trek down to the beach where the rest of the Hawk’s crew is waiting; Revan comms Canderous as they go, confirms that the hyperdrive and stabilizers have been repaired and the ship is ready to fly. Good. They have no time to waste - Malak has to be destroyed and the Sith fleet hers before the Republic arrives. She needs time to remind her officers who they swore loyalty to when they first followed her - her, not Malak - into the Unknown Regions. 

“I could use my battle meditation to turn the tide if the Republic arrives early,” Bastila says, at one point, when Revan is explaining the situation, and she nods.

“I’d hoped to have you with me when I fought Malak, but you’re right, it’s a good backup plan.” If circumstances are going to force Revan to fight Malak alone, then she’ll just have to make sure he has no loyal Sith left in the Star Forge to trap her with.

They make it back to the ship and the rest of the crew is waiting outside; Mission perks up when she sees Revan and Bastila, but then frowns. “You got Bastila back, that’s good! But- where are the others? Carth and Juhani and Jolee?”

“That temple is a dangerous place,” Revan says calmly. “As for Carth, he only agreed to stay until we found Bastila - he took her shuttle and left the system. A shame, but nothing can be done about it.” She shakes her head, lifts a hand to quiet Mission’s next question, says. “You all know my plan: to land on the Star Forge and kill Malak. There have been some… complications, but I’m not going to let that stop me. I need all of you - so are you ready?”

“You know I am,” Canderous says, patting his rifle. “I don’t intend to miss out on the best fight since you took down Mandalore.”

“I have sworn a lifedebt,” Zaalbar says gravely, “and I may not like this, but I will follow you.”

That just leaves Mission. “I don’t know,” the teenager says, uncertainly. “But I said I’d stick with you until we killed Malak, and I meant it, so I guess… yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good.” Revan sweeps across the beach towards the Ebon Hawk’s ramp, her crew following her in, and without Carth to fly the ship she sends T3 to handle it, to bring them up off the planet and begin a covert approach to the Star Forge. HK meets her at the holotable, interfacing with it to display the Star Forge’s schematics; once, Revan had these committed to memory, would’ve been able to formulate a plan without having to rely on her droid. But the Jedi Council took things from her, and so she has to study the schematics and their labels, refamiliarize herself with corridors she’s already walked, with the Star Forge’s various functions, until she has something like a rough plan in mind.

(A factory, it’s a factory, she realizes - remembers? - abruptly, a factory and so much more, capable of creating nearly anything without the restriction of raw materials, imbued with the Force itself, half space station and half monolithic entity, the power behind her empire.)

Once her crew is gathered around her, Revan begins to speak. “Canderous, I want you to go carefully to the hangars, find the officers in charge of the fleet. Figure out who has heard my message and is loyal to me, and who’s still loyal to Malak. Get as much of the fleet staffed with people loyal to us as possible and have it arrayed in a defensive position around the Forge.” Canderous nods, leaning in to study the areas she’s highlighted, and she turns to Mission. “Mission, I have a special mission - ha - for you. I want you to go here,” and she points out the relevant area, “and sabotage the station’s internal defenses. I want to turn them on Malak’s Sith. There’s going to be guards there, but you’re clever, and you still have the stealth field generator I gave you, right?”

“Yeah.” Mission nods eagerly, and Revan grins. “I can do it, Revan.”

“Good, stay in touch with me. I may need you to reprogram the defenses again at some point - we have more enemies than just Malak now. HK, you and T3 will go to the droid production centers and make sure the droids are programmed to take orders from me, not Malak. Have some come down to protect the Hawk, just in case Malak gets it in his head to steal my ship to escape.” She pauses a moment, looks over the map. “Bastila and I will be making our way through the Star Forge to confront Malak - Zaalbar, you can either come with us, as I may need you for something, or you can stay back and protect the Hawk, it’s your choice.”

“I will stay,” Zaalbar rumbles. “I am little use against Sith.”

Revan nods, claps her hands together. “Well then. We have a plan.” And hopefully Mission won’t get squeamish if Revan needs her to reactivate the internal defenses against the Republic. It’d been a calculated decision, not mentioning the incoming fleet, but Canderous knows enough about warfare to understand why she’d want a defensive position, and she can always comm HK and send him to take over for Mission if it becomes a problem. “Canderous, cockpit, with me. The rest of you, get ready.”

Canderous follows her and Revan pats T3’s dome as she passes it, sliding into the pilot’s chair and settling her hands onto the controls. She hasn’t flown the Hawk much, as Carth had enjoyed it, but she does know how to pilot a ship, probably better than he could anyway, with the Force. “What do you need, Revan?”

“Carth and Juhani are still out there,” Revan says, “and I don’t know if they’ve truly left the system or if they’re going to try and stop me from taking back the Star Forge. Also - Carth called the Republic fleet. I don’t know when they’re going to jump into the system, but I won’t let them ruin my victory. You know how to command a fleet?”

Canderous shrugs. “I know tactics. You’re the real genius, Revan, but I can help until you’re done with Malak.”

“Good.” Revan adjusts course slightly, aiming for one of the hangars on the lower decks - it’ll mean fighting through more of the Star Forge to get to Malak, if she’s right about where he is, but the others will be closer to their goals, and they’re less likely to be noticed. “I’m sending in clearance codes for the Star Forge now. They’re older, but should be accepted. If they aren’t, well, I guess we’ll get blown out of the sky.”

Canderous snorts. “Not the kind of death I’m hoping for, but I trust you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get ready.”

Revan nods, paying him little attention now as she transmits the codes, holds her breath until a comm comes back saying the codes have been accepted, they’re free to approach the Star Forge. “Send Bastila in, will you?”

The Star Forge looms large in the Hawk’s viewscreen, sleek grey on the outside, a marvel of ancient construction like nothing the Republic has ever managed to achieve. Revan will learn the techniques the ancient Rakata used to build it, to infuse it with the Force, and eventually she’ll be able to create her own monument of power, to last for millennia. A reminder of her empire even when she’s long gone, like the Sith statues on Korriban.

But none of that will matter if she doesn’t stop Malak.

Revan lands the Hawk in a narrow hangar with two small Sith fighters on either side, locks down the ship’s navicomputer, and squares her shoulders as she walks out of the cockpit, through the central living area and towards the ramp. Mission is chatting with Zaalbar as she straps on her stealth field generator, the lightweight blaster rifle Revan had gotten custom made for her slung over her shoulder. She looks eager, and Revan hopes the girl understands that this is for the good of the galaxy. She’s a good kid, Revan truly would hate to have to kill her.

(But she won’t let that sentiment stand in her way, either.)

“Let’s go, Bastila,” she says, and lifts up her hood.

Malak awaits.

Revan remembers the Star Forge now, the way it slips softly against her awareness, a barely-there hum, just waiting for her to reach out and pour herself into it. If she had the time and the freedom, she could send her awareness into it entirely, following the Force currents infused into every trace metal to command the structure to do whatever she wants. If she had the time, she could use the Star Forge itself to kill Malak without ever setting foot in the same room as him.

But Malak would sense her meddling, if she did - he’s more than likely attuned to the Star Forge as well, by now. If he’s smart he’ll be using it to keep track of where she is - but she doesn’t think he will. Malak wants a real confrontation, and he more than likely thinks he’s untouchable here, in the seat of power he’s stolen.

The first deck is strangely empty; Revan suspects that Malak has somehow learned of the impending Republic attack and is preparing his fleet, trusting in the automated defenses. His mistake, of course. There are droids, but Revan only has to work her way through a few waves of them before HK comms her to let her know he’s successfully taken control of the droid generation. Parts of it are in a separate system, he informs her, so it’s likely she’ll still have to deal with some droids on the higher levels, but for now, her path is clear, and he’s sending droids to reinforce Zaalbar at the Hawk.

Good. 

She makes it to the second deck before it seems anyone’s been made aware of her presence - it’s like a switch has flipped, and she finds herself facing waves of Sith troopers and apprentices, appearing from side rooms or just patrolling the corridors, or even a couple lying in wait; Revan and Bastila fight back-to-back and really, none of them even have a chance, the poor fools. She keeps one of them alive, after she’s finished working her way through another group, questions him on Malak’s plans and knowledge, but he hardly knows anything other than that Malak is aware of Revan’s presence and has promised to make anyone who delivers the killing blow to Revan his own apprentice.

“He can’t be expecting any of these weaklings to succeed,” Bastila says, after Revan casually uses the Force to snap the apprentice’s neck and drops his dead body onto the floor to join his fellows. “He must know no one here can face you.”

“He’s trying to slow me down,” Revan says quietly. It would be a good strategy against anyone else - weaken her, tire her out, so that when she finally does make it to him she’ll be easy prey while he draws his power from the Star Forge around them. But Revan isn’t anyone else, and she draws just as much power from her surroundings as he does. “He can’t afford to keep doing this for long, though. I suspect we’ll face fewer, but stronger forces as we get closer to him.”

Bastila nods, thoughtfully. Malak’s strongest Sith might actually be a challenge - they’re hardly the same caliber Revan would’ve trained them to be, but in the past she’d left Malak in charge of that while she handled the conquest and the recruitment. No matter how much control they lack, his elite Sith will have raw power and lightsaber skills. Some of them, Revan hopes, will understand it’s smarter to swear loyalty to her rather than die, but not all of them. Still, with Bastila by her side, Revan doesn’t fear any of Malak’s Sith; the two of them fight nearly as one now, the bond open wide and giving them a wordless coordination nearly impossible to beat.

In taking Bastila and breaking her to the Dark, Malak may have just created his own destruction.

They’re halfway through the third deck, fighting a mob of Sith troopers, when abruptly the heavy blaster turrets switch their aim from Revan and Bastila to the troopers, shredding them in moments, and then Mission comms to say she’s got control over all the internal defenses, including the security cameras.

“Good,” Revan tells her, and then discreetly sends HK up to… reinforce her position. Just in case.

The Republic arrives as Revan is clearing out the deck’s computer room - the terminals here have saved her robes, and Malak’s, and some of the items of power they’d carried, and can replicate them with enough energy. Revan has control over half the Forge now. It’s easy enough to pull energy from nonessential systems for a moment to generate an appropriate set of Dark robes for Bastila… and a replica of Revan’s mask.

She picks it up out of the bin, ignoring Mission on the comms (the girl is saying something about the Republic, you never said we’d be fighting them), and runs her fingers over the familiar lines, feels the power infused into it humming her palms. It’s tempting to put the mask on immediately, but Revan waits, instead slips it into a pocket on her belt that’s the perfect size, finally pulls out her holocomm to answer Mission properly.

“You said the Republic is here?” she asks, and Mission looks surprised but nods.

“They’re attacking the Star Forge, and they’ve sent Jedi to board and come after us. I didn’t agree to fight the Republic, Revan!”

“Mission,” Revan sighs, “sometimes we have to sacrifice things we care about for the sake of the galaxy. Things like the Republic and the Jedi. I talked to you about this, remember?” As she talks, she gestures for Bastila to follow her from the computer room, starts walking down the corridors to the turbolift that will take them to the command center. “We’re making the hard choices to save the galaxy. I need you to reactivate the internal defenses and set them to fire on the Jedi.”

“The Sith destroy planets, they’re the ones who bombed Taris! The Republic has always been good, I don’t understand how you could turn on them.” Mission looks upset, but she hasn’t refused - not yet. And Revan doesn’t have time for this, she needs to get to Malak, but she doesn’t signal HK. She likes Mission, and maybe Carth and Juhani made a fool’s mistake and left her, but she won’t let Mission do the same.

“Malak has always been the one who destroyed things, Mission,” Revan explains. “Once we’ve won, maybe we can try to find a way to restore Taris, make it habitable again. Would you like that? Stick with me, Mission. I promise, I’m going to make the galaxy a better place. The Republic, they don’t understand that we have to act if we’re going to fix things, but I know you do. Have I ever let you down?”

Mission’s quiet for a long minute, frowning, then she sighs and shakes her head. “No, you haven’t. Okay, Revan - you promise we’re making things better?”

“I do.” 

“Then… I’ll turn the defenses back on.” Mission seems reluctant, but she listened. Revan hasn’t lost her touch, then - Carth was just spectacularly blind, and Juhani… 

Revan doesn’t want to think about Juhani.

“Thank you, Mission. I’ve got to go, but keep in touch if anything changes, okay?” She hangs up the comm, looks over at Bastila, smiles. “We’ve almost made it.”

“The Republic makes this more difficult,” Bastila points out, and Revan sighs. “Once we get to the command center I should use my battle meditation to help our fleet, or we risk the Star Forge being destroyed once we’ve killed Malak.”

Revan groans, but Bastila’s right. “Then it all comes down to Master versus Apprentice, in the end,” she says. “As it began, so must it end.” She shakes herself, forces a smile she doesn’t quite feel, even though she knows Bastila knows. “Let’s get you to the command center.”

The turbolift is heavily guarded - Malak has to be aware by now that he’s losing control of critical systems - but Revan and Bastila fight through it together, the thrill of the fight humming across the bond and amplifying itself. (Revan remembers, distantly, fighting side-by-side with Malak against the Mandalorians, glancing over in the middle of the battle to share a grin and a laugh, the two of them invincible as long as they had each other’s backs.) The adrenaline banishes any thought of tiredness out of Revan’s mind, and she makes quick work of the last of the defenders, steps into the turbolift and presses the button for the command center, Bastila entering and standing next to her.

The command center will be the most heavily fortified area, Revan knows. Malak will likely have his strongest apprentices there, and they’ll all know who they’re facing, be prepared. Revan will have no chance of turning them to her side, and really - if they’re that strong and still bowing down to Malak of all people , she hardly wants them anyway.

“Are you ready?” she asks Bastila as the turbolift lights flicker around them.

“Of course,” Bastila says, shoots Revan a confident, easy smirk. “As long as we fight by each other’s side, we’re untouchable.”

(It’s you and me, as long as we stay together nobody can stop us.)

“Oh, of course,” Revan agrees, nudges Bastila with a teasing smile. “Forgive me for asking such a stupid question.”

“Forgiven, I suppose.” Bastila lets out a long-suffering sigh, although there’s nothing but fond amusement across their bond. “We should focus, I think we’re reaching our destination.”

Sure enough, the turbolift dings, coming to a halt, and the doors slide open into a small hallway leading up to a large door. Revan can sense the dark presences beyond; just three of them, which surprises her a little, but she supposes Malak’s forces have been spread thin lately, and the Republic attack certainly isn’t helping. She draws both her sabers as she approaches the door, boots hardly making any sound on the floor, and the doors slide open just as silently.

The Sith within have their backs to her, at first, but she can tell they sense her presence by the way they stiffen and reach for weapons.

“This is your only chance,” Revan says, igniting both her blades. “Swear your loyalty to me now or face the consequences.”

“Do you really want to face Darth Revan in the seat of her own power?” Bastila adds, voice dripping with scorn as the Sith just turn and ready themselves, though Revan can see her words having an effect on their morale if nothing else. Weakening their convictions will weaken their resolve, and thus their strength, however - Bastila is smart. “You’re all more foolish than I thought you’d be.”

“We are no fools!” the center Sith crows. “Malak will reward us with power beyond your imagination when we defeat you.”

Revan shakes her head. “A pity. I would’ve rewarded you with your lives.”

Before any of the three can answer, she leaps to attack.

The Sith are good. Skilled with their sabers, and in tune with the Force, blocking Revan’s lightning or using their own command of the Force to counter her power. She can see why Malak chose them.

But all that skill won’t save them.

Revan and Bastila work together in tandem, fighting back to back, reaching into and through each other’s space in a coordinated, anger and darkness-fueled dance, wearing the Sith down one by one, as eventually all their energy reserves run dry, and then their command of the Force fails them. The first one to fall misses a bolt of lightning from Revan’s fingers; the second is impaled on Bastila’s dualsaber as she ignites one of the blades directly through his abdomen.

The third they kill together, in a smooth, swift motion.

Revan is breathing hard by the time they finish, and she wipes the sweat off her forehead, returns her sabers to her belt and crosses the room to inspect computer terminals and sensors. “Our fleet is losing,” she says. “We’re taking too many losses - Carth must’ve warned them.”

“The traitor,” Bastila hisses, fury spiking across their bond. “I will remain here and use my battle meditation, but if something goes wrong, use our bond and I’ll come to help you.”

Revan nods, leaning against a console and taking a few deep breaths, giving herself time to regain some strength. She’s fought Malak many times before, since they were young and it was nothing more than friendly spars; later on they fought each other to hone their skills against the Mandalorians, and then with wild abandon once they were both Sith, always pushing each other to be better, do better, fight harder, extend their limits again and again. 

Somehow, until the Leviathan, they’d never truly fought with the intent to kill.

“I’ll find you here once I’m done,” Revan says, firmly, straightens up and gives herself one last breath before she starts for the far door. “He’s not far - the viewing platform. I can sense him.”

“So can I,” Bastila says as she settles down on the floor. “You can do this, Revan - you’re stronger than him. You’ve survived everything he’s tried to do to you. This is your destiny.”

Revan smiles, pauses by Bastila to briefly bend down and squeeze her shoulder, the touch a comfort. “I know.”

Malak has his back to the doors, standing at the far end of the viewing platform, hands behind his back as he watches the battle through the massive viewscreens. Captive Jedi hang in electrical prisons around the area, Revan can feel them, a whisper in the Force, suspended between life and death, their power ripe for the taking. Malak must’ve brought them here to use in his fight against her, but Revan has no qualms in stealing their power for herself - not yet, though.

She walks down the walkway towards where the viewing platform opens up into a large semicircle, her pace measured, deliberate, hood down, mask still tucked away, for now. (A thread of memory, previously forgotten: Malak standing here, watching as the beginnings of a fleet amassed outside, and Revan walking up to join him, pulling her mask off as she did, coming up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her apprentice, the two of them together as always as they prepared to lead an assault on the galaxy.)

“Malak,” she says.

Her old apprentice turns, slowly, to face her, solemn, dark eyes locking onto hers. “Revan,” he says. “So you have come - I knew you would. Where’s your precious new apprentice?”

“Bastila,” and Revan stresses the name, fighting back the anger, “is keeping my fleet from being destroyed and beating back the Republic, which you would’ve failed to do. You never were the greatest tactician.”

Malak chuckles darkly, shakes his head. “And yet it’s taken you this long to reach me. No matter. Your fleet, is it? Admit it, Revan, this fleet has always been ours. We found the star maps together, took control of this place together, turned its dark power on the Republic together. Without me, you never would’ve found the Star Forge to begin with, and your crusade would’ve died before it ever began.”

Revan scoffs - does he seriously believe that? She’s never needed him, she could’ve had any former Jedi she chose as her apprentice, and yet she chose him. And he turned his back on her. “You betrayed me, Malak,” she says, shaking her head. “If you’d listened to me, done what I told you, we could’ve been the undisputed rulers of the galaxy by now - but you decided you were better than me, you wanted more than you were worth, and so you took the coward’s way out.”

If he’d had the guts to challenge her to a duel for the title, she would’ve at least respected him; he never would’ve won, of course, but he would’ve had honor, and he would’ve been remembered as a true Sith. Revan might’ve even spared him, after she defeated him. He’d still had his uses, after all.

“You betrayed me long before I ever made any move against you,” Malak snaps, voice harsh and full of rage. “You don’t see it, do you? As willfully blind as ever. You’d sacrifice the entire galaxy if it meant you could keep your eyes closed.”

“Enough of this!” Revan yanks out her sabers, sliding into an offensive stance. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to save the galaxy, not that you seem to understand what that means. I’m not here to talk, Malak. You betrayed me, you stole my empire, you destroyed planets, and you took Bastila. For all that and more, you deserve death.”

Malak pulls out his own lightsaber, says, “Eager for blood, are you? Very well, so am I. Let’s finish this, in the ancient tradition: master versus apprentice.”

And he attacks.

(Alek has a training saber in his hands and a light in his eyes as he swings it at Revan, following the scripted motions of the katas they’re supposed to be practicing together. Instead of stepping up to block like she’s supposed to, though, Revan ducks out of the way and lightly smacks her training saber into his saber arm; Alek yelps, drops his, and tackles her, poking her in the sides where he knows she’s ticklish, and she shrieks out, that’s not fair! even as she can’t stop the giggles.

You’re the one who broke the kata first! That’s what you get. Alek laughs too, and soon enough they’re both flopped on the floor by each other, training sabers forgotten, the room filled with warmth and light and love.)

Revan ducks to one side, swings a saber out, and he steps back and blocks, pivots so they’re facing each other again. She doesn’t give him time to set up, just launches forward again, a series of sharp slashes at his face and upper body that he moves with, dodges, forces her to fall back onto the defensive with a heavy two-handed blow. She catches it on her violet saber, extends herself to cut at his stomach with the red one, and Malak throws out his hand, sends her skidding backwards with a pulse of Force. Revan digs her sabers into the floor to slow her movement, keeps her balance, stays at a distance for a moment to watch him.

“You weren’t this good when we fought on the Leviathan,” she says as he closes the distance between them again, launching back into the fight.

Malak doesn’t answer right away, waits until another gap in the fighting before he says, “I’ve always been better than you’ve been willing to admit.”

(Blue flashes against purple as Revan attacks in a flurry, her lightsaber almost seeming alive in her hands as she hammers against Alek’s guard; there have been rumors of war coming, from the Outer Rim, and they have to be ready for when the Republic calls on the Jedi for aid. Revan and Alek are the best young Knights in the Order now, they’ll be needed. A part of Revan has always known she is meant to go to war.

Revan’s attack falters for less than a heartbeat and Alek’s blue lightsaber is suddenly coming at her face; she swears and ducks, abandoning the spar to shove at him. You could’ve burned my hair.

Your hair, really, that’s what you’re worried about?

Shut up, I like it.

I’d worry more about your face, especially if you’re going to keep missing blocks like that, Alek says, and the two of them share a grin.

Then Revan kicks him in the knee. That’s for being a smartass.)

The fight wears on, back and forth across the wide platform, up onto the raised level and back down again, sabers clashing. Revan scores a few minor wounds across Malak’s body, and he manages to sear a line down the edge of her arm, weakening her offhand and sending pain jarring through her entire arm every time she uses it. She grabs onto the pain, clenches it between her teeth and lets it fuel her.

She ducks under a strike, sliding sideways, and the smell of charred hair fills the room, and the very end of her braid hits the floor, the rest of her hair coming unbound and flying around her face. It blinds her, for just a moment, and in the breath it takes to blow it out of her eyes Malak’s over by one of the imprisoned Jedi, using the Force to drain away their life and power into him. She sees him visibly strengthen, minor wounds closing up, and, well, two can play at this game, so Revan focuses her awareness on the Jedi nearest her, drawing the life and power away from them. Her arm doesn’t completely heal, but it’s enough that when she flexes it it barely twinges, and the Force lends a lightness to her feet and her arms as she leaps across the room to Malak and attacks in a fury again.

There are six Jedi left.

It becomes a game, almost, seeing how far she can push Malak before he’ll break away, knowing that the moment either of them takes more than a few steps away the other will also go for one of the captive Jedi and return, revitalized and stronger even than before. How many little injuries can they inflict on each other, how long until the exhaustion gets to be too much.

Malak breaks first, but before he does it he somehow - Revan doesn’t even catch the move, and that worries her more than she’d expected - knocks one of her sabers out of her hands and lands a hit on her hip, sending her reeling, violet saber automatically coming up to defend as she shoots her newly-empty hand out to call her saber back to her. But he doesn’t take advantage, instead rushes over to one of the Jedi, and Revan stumbles over to one herself, pulls the life and power into her to heal her wounds. 

He’s wearing her down. He’s physically stronger than she is, probably has more endurance - she can’t play the waiting game. She has to get rid of the rest of the Jedi now, force a last long fight to the end, to his death, because Revan will not lose.

(Just because the Revanchists followed you instead of me doesn’t mean you can give me orders, Malak snaps, tired and frustrated from the long slog through the mud fighting the Mandalorians, and from the spar they’re in the middle of, sabers crossed and straining against each other.

That’s not how I meant it and you know it, Revan says, breaks the bladelock and spins away, one saber straight out in front of her, the other off to the side. But when we address the soldiers we have to be a unified front, we have to support each other. If they see us arguing it’ll drop their morale and they’re already low enough after the Cathar massacre news.

Your plan was wrong, though. And you didn’t discuss it with me beforehand. Malak goes on the attack, a handful of short swipes before he backs off, resumes circling.

My plan worked!

At what kind of cost?

Revan shakes her head, abandons the circling to lunge in and close with him again, pouring her frustration into the duel. We have to stop thinking about the losses - or potential losses - if we’re going to crush the Mandalorians. The people we lose sacrifice themselves so the galaxy will end up better off, so we can save more. They knew that when they followed us.

Maybe so, but-

Revan knocks his saber out of his hand and hovers both her blades in an X at his neck. I need you to stand with me, Malak. I need to know you’re on my side.

I’m always on your side, Revan.)

One Jedi left. Revan finishes draining the essence from the second to last one as Malak leaps at her with a heavy, overhead slash that she catches on both crossed sabers. He bears down on her, using his superior strength to force all three sabers ever-closer to her face, and then Revan drops to her knees, gathers the Force and shoves both hands out to knock him back as he loses his balance. She’s back on her feet again in an instant, movements augmented by the Force, and as Malak recovers she darts over to the last Jedi and reaches out to drain the life from them.

“Now it’s just us, Malak,” Revan says, “just you and me. No more power to drain, just sheer talent. And we both know who wins in that scenario.”

“Bold words for someone who lost the last time we fought,” Malak says, and charges her again.

They end up on the upper ring of the viewing platform, sabers flashing against each other as Revan’s fleet slowly but inexorably destroys the Republic’s behind them. A part of Revan wonders, as a fighter zooms past the viewscreen, if those outside can see the battle taking place within, if they know she’s fighting for the fate of the galaxy.

It’s always about the fate of the galaxy.

Revan has known from a young age she would go to war. There just never seems to be an end to the enemies she has to fight. And she will fight anyone who stands in her way: the Republic, the Jedi, the Mandalorians, Vitiate, her once-closest friend.

After all, she’s the one protecting the galaxy, even if they don’t see it. 

(Revan’s eyes glow gold as she slams her new red saber into Malak’s guard, gets in close, drives her foot into his stomach and then hits him with a wave of the Force. He stumbles, grunting, rights himself and sends a blast of lightning, and she catches it on her sabers, gritting her teeth as she struggles with the force of it. There’s a small audience (a couple of officers, she’d seen Saul Karath among them watching almost hungrily, the rest Sith) watching as the lightning fades and she recovers, launches at Malak again, the clash and hum of their sabers filling up the room to the brim.

She brings her saber in hard at his face, and as he brings up his own to block, she deactivates the blade for half a second to bash the hilt into his nose and jaw; Malak’s lip curls as she vaults back, away from retaliation, and he spits blood off to one side, rage building in his eyes. They rarely talk when they fight, these days, the arguments having already happened - and there are arguments, so many of them. They spend more time apart than together and the connection between them is corroded, like a durasteel beam soaking in acid.

Malak charges, but he doesn’t slow when he reaches her, sweeping her up in his momentum until her back thuds into the wall and her own sabers are perilously close to her head. He’s smiling, sharp and angry and satisfied, and so Revan gives him a moment to let him think he’s won, and then she draws back and slams her forehead into the bridge of his nose.

She can hear the bones shatter, and he’s dazed by it, and so she knees him in the crotch, yanks his feet out from under him with her own, and drops to sit on his chest.

Revan lets her sabers get close enough to his neck to burn before she stands and wordlessly leaves the room.)

Malak will win if he’s able to draw things out. Revan knows that. So she doesn’t give him the chance, fighting with a blur of lightsabers and the Force and her own body, forcing him on the defensive, recklessly burning through all her reserves of strength and power to stay lightning-fast and everywhere at once. In the end, what finally ends the duel is the first trick she’d ever used on him, all those many years ago.

He tries an attack.

Revan steps to the side instead of countering, and her saber comes up and cleaves through his forearm. And Malak’s hand - and lightsaber - go flying through the air, clattering against the durasteel floor somewhere behind her, Revan doesn’t look. She brings both her sabers up as Malak falls to his knees, his hand cradling the stump on his arm, and scissors them across his neck, holding them there, not moving.

“Damn you,” Malak snarls, face white with pain, but eyes hard with anger. “Going to kill me, are you, and run off to my replacement? How long will she last, a year, five years? You’ll get tired of her eventually, you’ll find someone better. It’s what you do.”

“You have a high opinion of yourself and a low opinion of me if you think I’d be so desperate to replace you,” Revan says derisively, her hands steady on her saber hilts. She should just kill him now. She should. But she supposes he’s earned a chance to say what he thinks.

Malak laughs, a strangely hollow sound, devoid of amusement. His presence in the Force is as dark as ever, but it seems exhausted and resigned, the wrath that’d sustained him throughout their fight drained away. “No, Revan, I have an honest opinion of both of us. We’re the same, you and I. You’re no better than me.”

“Liar,” Revan growls, shoves her sabers closer to his neck, but Malak won’t be silenced.

“Of the two of us, only one has always been the liar, and it’s never been me, Revan. You led me into the darkness and turned me into what I am now, and when you didn’t like what I’d become, you replaced me.”

“I replaced you because you were weak!” Revan’s chest is heaving, her hands no longer steady. Malak is a liar, he’s just jealous of Bastila, angry because he’s lost, and she’s won. Angry that after all this time he can’t beat her. Angry and unable to admit that he never has been able to to begin with. “Even before you betrayed me, you were barely my apprentice. I didn’t need you for any of my victories, I just kept you around because you were useful. Sometimes you need brute force to prove a point in a situation, and in the end that’s all you are - a brute.”

Malak laughs again and Revan nearly cuts his throat in response. “I am what you made me,” he says, and she clenches her jaw, tightens her grip around her sabers until her knuckles go white. “You made me into this, and you’ll do it to Bastila too. After all, she and I are the same - we were both powerful, and warm, and brilliant, that’s why you liked us.” He pauses, something shifting in his eyes, and then adds, “And both of us know what it’s like to have a Force bond with you.”

Revan freezes, sabers lowering a touch without her meaning to, eyes widening, the shock driving back the fury rising in her throat. “What?” she forces out.

He looks surprised. “All the things you remembered, and that’s what you’ve forgotten? Curious… perhaps the Jedi’s mind wipe did in fact work, in some areas. Yes, Revan - you and I had a bond, once, similar to the one you now share with your new apprentice. It formed when we were young, and lasted until my betrayal of you. Its disappearance is why I believed you were dead at first.”

Revan can do nothing but stare, for a moment, then she shakes her head. “Bastila is better than you in every imaginable way,” she says, voice trembling from the strain of holding back her anger; Malak dares to insinuate that it’s somehow her fault he became a brute with no self-control, when if he’d only just listened to her this entire mess would’ve been avoided - he tries to say he and Bastila are the same, as though that’s the only reason she wants Bastila, he says they had a bond, as though she’d ever want anything like that with him. (He’s telling the truth about the bond, she knows - if she looks, she can feel the missing shape of it in her memories.)

(He’s telling the truth about everything else, too.)

Malak shakes his head, sagging back onto his heels; he looks nearly woozy from the pain. “Believe what you like, that’s what you’ve always done.” His voice turns- strange, nearly fond, definitely nostalgic, going fainter - he’s burned himself out, and the shock of his injury is enough he’ll lose consciousness soon. She doesn’t plan to let him wake up. “Do you remember when we were children? We said it would always be us together, against the galaxy. Yet I think- somehow I knew. I always knew how it would end.”

“How will it end?” Revan asks in a whisper, unsure why she responds at all, unsure why she feels nearly conflicted, for a moment, unsure why she cares. Whatever they were, before, he destroyed it a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.

Malak looks up at her, meets her eyes one last time. “In darkness,” he says, barely a rasp, and then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses.

Revan stands there, for a long moment, and then, almost in a daze, she stabs one still-lit lightsaber into his neck, and then she turns and walks away.

Bastila is waiting for her in the command center. The Republic fleet outside is destroyed, Canderous had reported on her way back from the viewing platform. Their victory is complete.

Revan had smiled, had promised to meet him soon, had asked him to spread the message that she’d be addressing everyone shortly from the top of the Temple of the Ancients on the planet below. And she will - but she can’t quite get Malak’s voice out of her head. Can’t quite stop thinking of Juhani’s last speech to her.

Can’t quite forget the memory of two young children laying side-by-side on the floor of a Jedi training room, sides aching from laughter, content and secure in the knowledge that this would be them, forever, against whoever dared try and break them apart.

“Revan!” Bastila says, relief coloring her voice, and she rushes across the room to pull Revan into a tight hug. Revan can’t help melting into it, buries her face for a moment in Bastila’s soft hair, just breathing in the warmth and solidity of her. “I was starting to worry- But of course I shouldn’t have, you’re amazing.”

Revan laughs, pulls back and brushes her thumbs over Bastila’s cheeks, enjoying the way the young woman blushes even as she leans into the touch. “There was never any doubt I’d win,” she says, smiling. “There’s a reason Malak was my apprentice, after all.”

“Well, I’m still relieved you’re back,” Bastila says. “Having nothing to do but wonder who would come through those doors was driving me crazy.”

“I could try driving you a different kind of crazy,” Revan says with a grin and a wink, pulling on the brashness she’d often had back when she was pretending to be a spacer, “see if that would help?”

“You are ridiculous,” Bastila informs her, but she tugs Revan down for a kiss anyway, and as the warmth of it all soaks through her, Revan decides she doesn’t care about Malak’s lies, whatever insecurities he was trying to sow. “What are you grinning about?”

“I love you,” Revan says in response, and reaches into her belt to carefully pull her mask out of the pocket she’d been storing it in. “Now let’s go address our empire.”

And she fits the mask neatly over her face.

Fin