17

"I thought I'd find you here."

He didn't look up from his plate, instead finding the food still left more interesting than the woman who had just slipped into his booth. Avner was not in the mood to have another argument; he was too tired and, frankly just wanted a few moments of peace. She didn't speak, perhaps sensing he was in no mood to talk, or maybe she had finally run out of things to say. Hmph, doubtful, but he would take the silence while he could.

"Good to see you found your way back to us, luv." Hen appeared at their table, laying a menu in front of Bastila.

She pointed to something simple, and Hen nodded before disappearing into the kitchen. "You never came back after seeing Suvam."

"What, did Onasi send you out to make sure I wasn't jumping ship?" It didn't come out as harsh as he wanted, but rather flat. He really was tired.

"No… I came to make sure you were okay."

"Heh, yeah, right, like you care about my wellbeing."

"Avner, I don't know what I've done to make you think otherwise, but yes… I do care about you." Her face was earnest, but the look didn't reach her eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Bastila. I'm not in the mood for games. I've seen the way you look at me, and it goes way beyond Carth's trivial paranoia. You look at me like… like I'm your enemy, as if I've hurt you somehow," he snapped back. There was that familiar spark of anger he was so used to. Glad to see that hadn't changed like everything else in his life.

"I'm sorry."

It was soft and perhaps the most genuine thing he had ever heard leave her lips since meeting her. His anger cooled but didn't disappear completely. He was unwilling to let it go that easily, not after everything he had been through… after everything he had lost.

"I haven't been fair to you, and at times… yes, I have been unfriendly, it's just-." She looked away from him, eyes filled with pain and deep sorrow. "You remind me of someone… from my past."

"I guess he doesn't exactly elicit fond memories, huh?"

"No… but I shouldn't let what happened in the past influence how I treat you. You're-." Again Bastila glanced away in clear discomfort before her lips twisted upwards into a tiny, sardonic smile. "You're not the same man he was."

Avner wanted to throw another barbed remark her way; it was clear she was not over whatever had happened long ago, and whosever face she saw when she looked at him was the only one she would ever see. But he couldn't bring himself to twist her own knife deeper when it was apparent to anyone that she was already hurting. He wasn't about inflicting further misery onto someone already suffering. So instead, he focused on his food, foregoing questioning her further, and Bastila followed his lead, eating in silence. The gravball game blaring above them was in its last quarter, with the Rotworms leading by two. Too bad the Lothwolves had already won this game over a year ago.

"Can I ask you a question?"

His focus broke from the game and returned to her as he nodded.

"Why do you want to leave?"

He shrugged, looking back at the holoscreen. "The missions over, you're safe and have the means to get back to the Republic, and Carth can protect you far better than I ever could."

"It's not over, Avner. Whether or not you want to accept it, our meeting did not happen by chance. It has pulled you into something bigger… something you can't walk away from."

"That's where you're wrong, Jedi. I'm just another rank-and-file soldier, a nobody… what I do doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things."

"Everyone matters. You have a gift, a connection to the Force I've never seen before. You could make a difference," Bastila all but pleaded, her gray eyes boring into his.

"I don't want to matter, Bastila! I just… I just want to be left alone." He couldn't meet her gaze this time and instead stared down at his calloused hands. The knuckles were split open and scabbed, thin scars running along the back while old burns dotted his palms. Rough hands from a rough life. How long has he been fighting? How much longer would he have to continue? For the rest of his life or until his luck ran out and someone caved in his skull? A depressing thought, one he didn't want to dwell on.

"Avner-."

"Look, I'll get you to Dantooine, okay? After that, you're on your own."

He left a hefty tip on their table and then picked up the food Hen had left for him at the bar. Bastila followed quietly behind him, and he thanked his good graces that she didn't press him with more questions. Terminus was a bit busier than usual, with its people roaming the corridors more openly now, few glancing their way. It was almost as if the people here were starting to get used to their presence aboard their station. They entered the hangar where Vero was speaking with Carth at the landing ramp. Mission sat by herself on a stack of crates in the corner of the hanger picking at her sling. He approached the young girl slowly, giving her ample enough time to send him away if she wanted to remain alone. She made no move when he set the container down in front of her, instead only glaring at Bastila, who glanced their way once and frowned when she caught sight of Mission's angry stare, abruptly looking down as she walked briskly up to Carth and the mechanic. They sat silently for a few minutes, watching Carth, Bastila, and Vero disappear inside the ship. He nudged the food closer.

"I'm not hungry." She was staring up at the rusting ceiling now, lips moving as she silently counted the tiles high above their heads.

"Gotta eat, kid."

"I'm not hungry," she reiterated, still not breaking from her skyward gaze. He shrugged and leaned back. They grew quiet again, Mission counting, while he watched the stars pass by outside the viewport. It has always amazed him how numerous they were, like grains of sand littering a shoreline, too many to count. One could get lost amongst them… he wished he could lose himself to them. "I try to eat."

He glanced over at her but didn't speak.

"I try… but I can't keep it down. It's like my stomach has been tied up; my chest… burns so bad that I can hardly breathe. Whenever I try to sleep… when I close my eyes, all I can see is-." She broke off and bit her lower lip, swallowing hard. "They're all gone."

"I'm sorry, Mission." There was nothing more he could say. What comfort could he possibly offer to a girl who had lost everything? Pain, trauma like that, only she could work through it now. And he could only hope that she would be able to work through it when he was gone.

"Why? It wasn't your fault; the Sith weren't looking for you." She angrily scrubbed at her eyes. "They were looking for that Jedi! She – she's the reason why they're all dead."

"It wasn't her fault, Mission; she couldn't have known-."

"BUT SHE DID!" The Twi'lek girl shouted as she jumped to her feet. She was angry, far too angry for someone so young; her normally bright features twisted into something ugly. "Before you came for us, when we were running through the streets and everyone… everything was burning, she said the Sith were doing this because of her! They never- they never would have-."

She shattered completely. Sobs, deep from her core, wracked her small body as tears streamed unbidden down her face. He took the young girl into his arms, and she clung to him like a lifeline. She trembled so badly, teeth knocking together so hard that he worried she might crack one. It was base, primal grief shaking the young girl's entire body, and it broke his heart. She shouldn't have to deal with this anguish; she was only a child… only a child. Her sobs eventually subsided into hiccups, but she didn't extricate herself from his embrace, and he didn't let go. They stayed like that for a few more moments before Mission pulled away and slumped back into her previous seat. She looked no better, but he didn't expect her to. Betterment would come with time… with healing.

He pushed the food over to her, and she opened the lid this time. She ate slowly, almost methodically, but at least she was making an effort. "Mission… you can't be angry at Bastila."

"Why not? You are." Her brown eyes watched him closely, and Avner was again reminded of how perceptive this kid was.

"That's different. Look, you're too young to hold onto this… this anger. It will only eat you alive if you keep it around."

"You're angry. You don't really show it, but deep in your eyes… it's there," Mission whispered.

"Because I'm a lost cause, kid. I'm too far gone, but you… you can be better, Mission. You will be better," he murmured back. He squeezed her shoulder once, but she didn't smile, instead only gazing back at him with eyes filled with sadness.

"Marek!" He turned to catch sight of Carth making his way over to them. "Hyperdrives in place, and the engines are primed. Time to go." It was an order, not a suggestion, but he was too drained to bristle under the pilot's assumed command. He helped Mission to her feet and brushed past the other man. Onboard he found Suvam finishing his last-minute system check on the hyperdrive before unhooking his datapad and getting to his feet.

"Everything is in order. The drive should work like a dream."

Avner extended his hand to the elderly Rodian, who took it tentatively. "Thank you, Suvam. For everything."

He shrugged but gave his hand one final squeeze before leaving. "It was nothing. May the Force be with you, Avner Marek."

The Ebon Hawk slipped from Terminus station with ease. Carth maneuvered the freighter around Yavin Prime, keeping to the very edge of its gravity well before engaging the hyperdrives. The stars around them warped and pulled, like the very fabric of space was being torn apart for them to slip through the hole they had created before it sealed itself off again. It would take at least a day to reach Dantooine, maybe longer. He tended to round his distance ratios down when calculating hyperspace routes, and it seemed as if everyone had gravitated to a different part of the Hawk for their trip. Zaalbar was playing Canderous in Dejarik while Carth had holed himself up in the cockpit with Teethree and Bastila; well, he hadn't seen her since takeoff.

Mission, though was passed out in the starboard dormitory. He could almost feel her heartbeat through the Force, even and steady, as he walked the dimly lit corridors toward her location. He only wanted to ensure she was okay… when they had left, the young girl was still in a pretty raw emotional state. He approached the entrance to the empty dormitory but stopped short when he sensed another presence inside besides Missions. He leaned around the corner and caught sight of Bastila standing over the Twi'lek, who had her back turned to them both, chest rising and falling in rhythmic slumber. The Jedi gently draped a warm blanket over the sleeping girl, stopping short of tucking her in before stepping back.

She was quiet and still for the next few seconds, gaze fixed solely on Mission before a barely audible whisper left her lips. "I'm sorry."

She turned, stopping momentarily when her eyes met his, then she dropped her gaze and hurried past him. The Jedi was gone in an instant, having disappeared so quickly that she missed Mission, purposefully pulling the blanket up to her chin. Avner let a small smile slip across his face. Yeah, she would be alright… she would make it.

Hours slipped by, and Avner used the time to explore his new ship. The containers stacked in the cargo hold were full of numerous supplies, from weapons to thermal clips and even an entire case of thermal detonators. He took extra care in securing them, as the last thing anyone needed was to have eighty or so odd thermal detonators rolling around the Ebon Hawk while it was hurtling through deep space. There were also several crates of Tarisan ale and at least two hefty bottles of Dorian Quill packed alongside the food rations. Damn, he hadn't seen this kind of whisky since his last shore leave on Ord Mantell. He was now tempted to crack open a cask, but the low ping of an alert that the ship was entering atmo stalled his hand. He carefully repacked the precious liquor and made his way to the cockpit.

Bastila was already there speaking over the comm's center while Carth piloted the Hawk over an endless expanse of rolling green plains. They stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with small settlements or twisting rivers that curved around smooth peaked mountains. Everything was green and gold, the very color of life. The Force swelled within him as if after the abject terror and misery Taris' destruction had wrought upon him, Dantooine was like a warm ray of sunlight breaking through bleak storm clouds. But as the Force began to push against his conscious, it hit a barrier, and a flash of pain licked across his head like something was driving a nail into his brain. He shook his head and pulled the Force back within himself, the pain lessening the more he pushed it away. Odd… his head must still be smarting from Bastila's saber tap.

Ahead stood a large stone temple built deep into the surrounding hillside, gray rock cut and smoothed expertly to flow with the neighboring terrain rather than disrupt it. Beyond it, in the far distance but still visible, sat a small outpost where ships and speeders were coming and going. Carth maneuvered the Hawk around the elegant temple to a vacant landing pad beside it and gently set the freighter down.

"Dantooine…" Bastila had come to stand beside him at the forward viewport, for once a calm, almost happy smile lighting up her normally severe features. "It seems like a lifetime since I last set foot on her surface, though in truth, it has only been a few months. At least we should be safe from Malak here… for now."

"Hmph, safe? No place is safe from Malak… not after what he did to Taris," Carth grunted from his spot in the pilot's chair.

"Even the Sith would think twice before attacking Dantooine. There are many Jedi here, including several of the most powerful Masters of our Order. There is great strength in this place," Bastila explained coolly.

"Not much good a lightsaber can do against an orbital bombardment laser," Avner pointed out.

She ignored his comment altogether. "We need time to regroup, and I must consult my masters on the recent events. Besides…" She looked back at the hatchway and frowned as if half expecting someone to be there. "You all need a chance to recover. This Academy is a place of mental and spiritual healing, something everyone needs after Taris."

Avner didn't miss that Bastila had subtly excluded herself from those needing help, from someone who needed healing as well, and he frowned.

"You may be right," Carth sighed as he stood. "It isn't easy to witness the annihilation of an entire planet. Mission… well, I'm worried about her."

A flash of pained sympathy flitted across the Jedi's face before her usual cool, detached mask reappeared. "She will find a way to come to terms with her grief. She is stronger than she appears. We just need to give her time." It was strangely caring and callous all at once, but the cold inflection in Bastila's voice chased away any comfort she may have been trying to offer. "I must go speak with the Jedi Council. They are expecting my report, and I can't keep them waiting. After I have met with them, I will meet you outside the ship."

She gave both of them a small nod and then disappeared through the hatchway. Avner watched her leave, his gaze never breaking from her back.

"Take a holo, Marek; it will last longer," Carth said, and Avner only shot him an exasperated look.

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"What?!"

Bastila suppressed a flinch at Master Dorak's yell. She had only ever heard him raise his voice a handful of times before this, and it always came as a shock whenever he did. She stood before her venerable Masters in the Great Council Hall, an ancient place some claimed was the nexus of all power on Dantooine. The four men gathered together were some of the most formidable and wisest in their Order. They were her teachers, defenders, fellow Jedi… her masters. But right now, they seemed to be her disciplinaries.

She bowed low and repeated what she had revealed to them. "Darth Revan is here on the ship I have just arrived on. I encountered him on Taris before it was destroyed."

"You… encountered the Dark lord on Taris? Are you sure it is him?" Master Zhar questioned. The Twi'lek Battlemaster was calm, his deep amethyst eyes belaying no concern over the news she had just brought them, a testament to the absolute control he had instilled into every aspect of his being. Something Bastila sorely lacked and desperately craved.

"It's him, Master Zhar; I… recognized his face." How could she ever forget it? The strong jaw curving up to a crooked nose that had been obviously broken numerous times, ruddy brown skin clashing with yellow tattoos and puckered scars that traced his rugged features almost naturally. And his eyes… a deep, thoughtful brown so unlike the blazing red she had seen for a few brief seconds aboard his flagship before they had closed for seemingly the last time.

"I see," the Lethan Twi'lek murmured, stroking his pointed chin thoughtfully.

"This cannot be! Perhaps Knight Shan is mistaken!" Master Dorak exclaimed while he paced back and forth in a short line, confusion, and worry wound tight into the creases of his face. Low, harsh mutters broke out amongst them, most of which was lost on her. Her news had left them rattled, unsettled them to a degree that she had not witnessed since they had ordered the destruction of the Dark lord's flagship years prior.

"Forgive me, Masters, but I thought Darth Revan was confined to an undisclosed medical facility in the Outer Rim. How did he end up on Taris believing he was a soldier there to rescue me?" Bastila asked. It had been one of the many things plaguing her mind ever since she had turned and saw his face amongst the chaos; Darth Revan rushing to her rescue, protecting her… caring for her. It was vastly different from the man she had fought against years before but also startlingly familiar.

"Because he is a soldier, or at least that's what we let him believe," Master Vrook revealed, and he glanced down pointedly at the small Jedi Master who stood beside him. "Or what one of us wants him to think."

Master Vandar, though small in stature, had power and wisdom that was unquestionable as one of the oldest in the Order, bowed his head. He had been silent during her revelation and for much of the ensuing conversation, his kind green eyes instead carefully watching the scene unfold. "The facility had no grounds to hold him any further; his recovery was complete and short of locking him up in prison for things he could not remember, I gave him a chance to begin anew, to give back to those he had taken from."

"You were always too lenient on that boy, Tokare," Master Vrook groused, giving his small friend a derisive look. "We should have confined him to a cell and thrown away the key or left him aboard his ruined flagship." He turned his hard stare on her, and Bastila suddenly felt as small as Master Vandar. Scratch that, she felt as tiny as a buzzing gogifly beneath his glare.

"That is not the Jedi way," Master Vandar reminded Vrook gently.

"Tell me, Master Vandar, is it the Jedi way to spare a Sith lord bent on our destruction just because you-."

"Masters, please, let us let past bygones remain where they belong and instead focus on the problem at hand." Master Zhar interrupted the two before anything else could be said, before anything could be revealed. Tokare couldn't meet Vrook's eyes, though, so he turned his gaze to Bastila. He was patient and kind, and she didn't feel like a worm trapped under one of their boots when he spoke.

"Does he remember anything of his past?"

She shook her head. "No, the mental conditioning seems to have held, but…" She hesitated to continue, but Master Vander smiled calmly and nodded. "He… seems to have no recollection of the Force, his power comes and goes, and he has little control over it. I don't understand, his mastery before was on par with a master, and now… now he has little grasp over his connection. It almost pains him to use the Force sometimes."

"Reconditioning Revan wasn't the only safeguard we instilled within the man. We sought to sever him from the Force completely but found it was impossible in his condition. Doing so may have killed him, so instead, we sealed away his connection and severed what we could," Master Zhar explained, and Bastila felt a sickening wave of nausea overtake her. She had been aware of the Masters' tampering with the Sith's memory after dragging his half-dead body back to them, but it had been a necessary change to preserve what little was left of his mind. But to forcibly try to break one's connection to the Force, well, that was a fate worse than death. To be stripped of everything that tied you to the Living Force and be left barren and empty, no better than a walking corpse filled with phantom pains and an echo of all that had once been… it was something so cruel that even the Sith forewent such a practice.

And now to learn that her very own Masters had used it…

"It was necessary, Bastila," Master Zhar assured her, noticing her clearly troubled expression and giving her a gentle smile. It did little to ease the twisting in her stomach, though. "He was too dangerous to be left completely unbound. We did what we must for the safety of all."

"Of course, Master, I meant no disrespect." Bastila bowed her head and pushed away any lingering feelings of unease. Who was she to question her master's wisdom? Besides, Darth Revan was a man who could garner little sympathy from her… but Avner… no, they were one and the same!

"You mentioned his power in the Force, Knight Shan?" Master Dorak pressed, the worry lines crossing his forehead only deepening further.

"Yes, on several occasions, he displayed abilities far beyond that of an average being, and I have sensed his growing connection."

"I see…" Master Dorak's frown intensified, and he turned to speak with Master Zhar and Vrook, respectively, while Master Vandar slowly approached her. This time she could only hear snippets of their hushed conversation. Not for the first time, Bastila wished she was back on the Endar Spire, just setting out on her mission to find and end Darth Malak's threat to the galaxy just as she had Revans. Her first real solo mission, where she alone would be responsible for the people under her command, and her decisions would be final. How terrible things had turned out. The Endar Spire lost, Taris destroyed, Darth Malak still roaming the galaxy at large, and Darth Revan...

"What does this mean?"

"Could Darth Revan be-."

"It's impossible, but we may-."

"Reconditioning may be necessary, or perhaps-."

"Is he okay?"

Bastila blinked once and glanced down at Master Vandar, who was looking up at her with a level of expectancy she didn't expect from the wizened alien. She was unsure of how she should answer. Avner had been hurt more times than she could count since he had helped rescue her, and she had seen the numerous cuts and bruises on his strong chest and shoulders in hurried glances when he didn't know she had been watching. The many scars that littered his body… it almost seemed as if more of his skin was marred rather than whole. Still, the pain wasn't only physical… it was also a deep psychological trauma, something he tried to hide, but in his most heated moments, it blazed fervently in his eyes. A profoundly broken man hidden behind a crooked grin and soulful brown eyes.

She shook her head and forced a smile onto her face. "Yes, Master, he's okay."

It was a lie, the first one she had ever told to one of her respected elders, and it stabbed at her heart like a finely sharpened blade. Vandar didn't reproach her, though. Instead, he only nodded solemnly and tapped the stone floor with his cane. It echoed in her mind every time it struck the surface, summoning burning images of Taris' destruction behind her eyelids. The screaming… the absolute terror and misery…

"I cannot even begin to imagine what you have gone through, Bastila, the things you have seen… you should take some time to heal," Master Vandar offered softly.

She only shook her head. "I'm fine, Master." Another lie, but one she was far more comfortable telling to herself and the masters. All she needed was some time alone to think, to meditate, and prepare for the next battle.

"We are glad for your safe return to us, Bastila, but this news you bring of Darth Revan is troubling, and of Darth Malak destroying Taris… this only shows he is growing desperate in his hunt for you," Master Zhar said pulling both her and Vandar's attention back to the other men.

She ducked her head as guilt burned low across her chest. She should have been faster, more focused, better prepared, anything! It was her fault Taris was gone; she had drawn Malak to that world, brought his fury down upon the billions of innocent beings, and then fled in the midst of their suffering. The bitter taste of disgust filled her mouth at her own weakness.

"We will have to take steps to protect you from him," Master Vrook continued, pacing forward, hands clasped firmly behind his back. "And from Darth Revan. We cannot afford to lose you."

"Of course, Masters." She didn't need more protection; she didn't want to put more people at risk. She only wanted to resume her hunt for Malak, to put an end to his terror before he could hurt anyone else. But she relented to their wisdom. Who was she to question them?

"Do not worry, Knight Shan, you're safe now. Your troubles are at an end," Master Dorak said, offering her what should be a comforting smile.

His words should have brought her solace if only she believed them.