Lost and Found: Prologue- Chapter 2

'You cheating son of a schutta...' The Duros trailed off in his own language, angrily throwing his side deck against the wall of the cantina and storming off.

Atton Rand slid the credits off the side of the table and shuffled them neatly between his rough leather gloves, smirking.

It had been satisfying. Far too easy, but nonetheless satisfying to make a big win at a Coruscanti Pazaak table. He leaned back in his chair, surveying the rest of the room and wishing more of them had been around to see his win.

Wishing she had been around to see his win. Atton frowned.

Wouldn't have mattered anyways. She doesn't like Pazaak. And she doesn't like you. She likes him...well, no, she doesn't like him either. That's some consolation, at least-

He sighed. Needless to say, he had been playing a lot of Pazaak in his head the past few years.

It kept him from thinking too far beyond punching in hyperspace coordinates or taking out a hissing shyrack with his blaster. It made him remember his place; a decent pilot with no other prospects beyond flying a half-demolished ship.

And to hell with whatever reasons he might have for staying with it year after year. They could stay buried, along with the rest of everything else that had been unearthed before Malachor.

He tossed two or three credits in his hand, getting ready to return to the ship.

The credit didn't come back down from where he had tossed it.

'That's an easy way to lose money. You're lucky I'm not a pickpocket.'

Atton glanced up at the figure standing over him, with one hand on her hip and the other holding his credit in the palm of her hand.

'If so, I'm lucky to be getting robbed, aren't I?'

The Twi'lek smiled, a strange kind of innocence to it that made him slightly uneasy. 'Innocent' was definitely not a word used to describe a Twi'lek female.

'I saw how you cleaned out that Duros. Nice job.'

Atton shrugged, leaning one arm over the back of his seat and smirking up at the Twi'lek.

'It was nothing. There are a lot more exciting things I can do. I'm multi-talented like that.'

He watched the Twi'lek blush, a slight twinge of purple coming into her cheeks.

'Want to play a hand?'

Atton hesitated.

They needed the credits for continual repairs to the Ebon Hawk. If he lost them, he was reasonably certain that there was no one else in the Pazaak den with the credits and the lack of talent to replace them.

But the Twi'lek in front of him was the brightest, most vibrant shade of blue he'd ever seen. That and her ready smile were enough to convince him that he could stay for one more game. Atton gestured to the seat across from him.

'You got a name, little girl?' He murmured as the Twi'lek seated herself.

'Little girl?' The Twi'lek replied, frowning.

Uh oh, Atton thought, quickly trying to backtrack.

'Hey, it wasn't an insult or anything-'

'Just seems a little inappropriate with the way you're staring at my headtails.' The Twi'lek added, running her hand slowly over the end of one.

He watched the seductive action, smirking.

'Hey, no problem. Keep doing that and I'll be glad to call you whatever you like.'

He watched the Twi'lek pull out her side deck, expertly shuffling it and laying the cards out on the table.

She's not half bad, Atton mused as they played. Her moves were unpredictable and she had a horrible Pazaak face, but in a few more years she could probably make a decent amount of credits.

He wondered idly where she'd learned to play so well at all. She looked at least ten years younger than Atton himself. He could make out the faint cyan lines of vibroblade scars running over her forearms.

Probably clawed her way out of slavery to some Hutt, or a bounty hunter just starting out, he concluded.

'Hey, you're the pilot for that smuggling ship that was all over the HoloNet a couple years ago, aren't you? The...Hawk something, right?'

'Guilty as charged,' Atton murmured. 'Though I can't say I'm proud my claim to fame is flying that collection of scrap metal.'

'I heard she was a fast ship.' The Twi'lek added. He wondered for a moment why she was sticking up for a ship she had only heard about through rumor.

'Yeah, maybe back in the wars against Exar Kun,' Atton replied, smirking. 'Why so interested? Looking to take the floating death-trap off my hands?'

The Twi'lek looked tempted for a moment.

'Nah,' She finally replied, turning a card over and smiling at him. 'Just happened to notice you and your crew walking around. You guys are kind of conspicuous, with an assault droid and all.'

Atton rolled his eyes, looking around nervously even though the HK droid was back on the ship and nowhere near him.

'What's the matter?' The Twi'lek said, leaning forward and grinning. 'You afraid of it or something?'

'Let's just say I'm not too fond of droids altogether.'

Statement: And that particular hunter-killer model makes me really fracking uncomfortable.

'You could always sell it.'

Atton drew a card, snorting.

'If it were up to me, I'd put that thing and his trash compactor buddy out on some street corner and leave 'em both for salvagers to take, but they aren't my droids to sell.'

He lay down his card with a triumphant smirk.

'Twenty. Hope you've got some credits, little girl.' The Twi'lek twisted her mouth up wryly, tossing a couple his way.

'The name's Mission.'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Go ahead T3. We haven't got much else on this ship to lose anyways.'

The droid beeped in response, and the engines on either side of her groaned and shuddered violently for a minute or two.

Then a pipe above her head burst open, raining black soot over the exposed hyperdrive and filling the room with a thin gray film.

Mira choked and hacked her way through the cloud, waving her hands and cursing loudly.

Maybe this piece of hovering trash doesn't have much else to lose, but my lungs and sanity definitely do, the bounty hunter thought moodily, sitting up and struggling to wipe the dirt and grime off of her face and arms.

Since clawing its way off Malachor Five, floating adrift for a few parsecs before being hauled in by a passing Republic freighter, the Ebon Hawk had been plagued with a steadily increasing list of mechanical problems.

Mira ran a hand through her red hair, greasy and unkempt from a day of repairs, and wondered again why the hell she was still on this ship.

Or at least why I seem to be the only one doing any manual labor, she thought, frowning. Atton had left the ship early, claiming that he was going to look for some cheap parts for the malfunctioning gangplank, but she knew the only parts the pilot had found were parts of a word: 'can' and 'tina'.

And the Jedi...well, they were off doing Jedi things. Masters and Padawans and bureaucracy that Mira was glad she didn't have to deal with. So that left her alone on the Ebon Hawk, with only that creepy assault droid and T3, who rolled around the ship somewhat listlessly.

Where's that Zabrak when you need him? Mira thought, a sad smile on her face as she got ready to take another stab at the hyperdrive.

She heard the muffled beeping of the utility droid echo down the hall, too muffled to make out.

'You say something, T3?' Mira called. There was no answer.

Sighing exasperatedly, the bounty hunter pushed herself up from the ground, wiping her hands on her pant leg and peering down the hallway outside of the engine room.

There was no sign of either droid. The ship was eerily silent, except for the soft creak of the gangplank.

She didn't have the Force, but Mira had been in enough cesspools to know when something didn't smell right. She pulled out her blaster, tiptoeing around the corner and keeping close to the wall as she moved towards the ship's exit.

She was so focused on the careful steps she was taking, on holding her breath and trying to spot any slight difference in the ship's numerous bulkheads and panels that she completely missed the towering figure blocking her path.

Mira bumped into it, stumbling a few steps back and immediately raising her wrist, tensed to fire a dart at whatever it was. The figure sniffed, growling softly.

She looked up at the Wookiee, almost too tall to fit in the ship and certainly too tall for the doorway.

'Oh great. Is Hanharr getting more of you fur-balls to do his dirty work for him?' Mira snapped nervously.

The Wookiee was definitely not the bounty hunter who had been on her trail the past few years. This one was of a darker, slightly reddish hue, and he regarded her curiously, like she was a child he didn't quite know what to do with.

He growled again. She was no expert in the Wookiee language- she had just been threatened by Hanharr enough that she had come to recognize what certain phrases sounded like. This one was definitely speaking a more provincial kind of dialect.

Mira pointed her blaster towards the Wookiee, slowly stepping backwards as he moved towards her.

Where the hell are those droids? The HK model usually jumped at the chance for a violent situation. And T3 was always ready with an ion charge for whatever happened to be threatening them.

'I don't know what you want, but you've got to the count of one to get your hairy carcass off this ship.'

The Wookiee roared sharply, reaching towards her.

Mira immediately reacted, firing once from her blaster, which deflected off the ceiling of the Ebon Hawk, leaving a scorch mark.

The Wookiee didn't slow at all. He lunged at her.

Uncharacteristically (though understandable considering her past with Wookiees) Mira let out a short yelp as the Wookiee's huge fist slammed down on her head and everything went dark.

At first, he reacted as a proper Mandalore should.

Thinking only of which warriors would be chastised for their error in judgment, for their weaknesses, for their failure in allowing someone to infiltrate the camp and to get as far as a duel against Mandalore himself.

He had not even turned around at first, only finishing his work at the computer console and listening carefully to try and discern which weapon would be needed- his assault rifle or his vibroblade.

The steady hum gave it away instantly, low and even. A lightsaber. He would have to use the vibroblade.

Mandalore slowly gripped the hilt, thankful that he had recently upgraded the vibration cell and sharpened the edge.

'Impressive of you to get this far.' He murmured lazily, unsheathing his weapon and holding it at his side, still with his back to the Force-using intruder.

'I see you've allowed your warriors to become quite the docile little weaklings. I wonder if they follow their leader in that respect.'

For a moment, Canderous was caught off guard.

The moment passed, and he smirked against his helmet, turning to face the Jedi who stood behind him with a yellow double blade extended in front of her.

'I've killed grown men for lesser words.'

She was smug. A small smile twitched at the edges of her lips.

'Such as those that are now lying unconscious along the path to this complex?'

He chuckled.

'You've grown some spine. Is there enough in that scrawny little body of yours to do what you've come here to do?'

Bastila glared at him, and he liked her best like that- when her eyebrows were narrowed over her indignant blue eyes, and she looked angry and wild enough to tear the entire enclave apart.

'Just what do you suppose I've come here to do, Mandalore?' The Jedi spat towards him. She twirled her blade between her hands, stepping towards him. 'Kill you? I am a Jedi. We don't follow your Mandalorian rituals of death and destruction.'

He shrugged, smirking again to himself and watching the way her Jedi robes followed her as she moved.

'Perhaps you're here to avail yourself of other Mandalorian rituals, although I had thought those were against your vaunted Jedi ideals too.'

Bastila lunged towards him and he slammed his vibroblade up against her glowing yellow blade, laughing.

'Touched a nerve, have I? Forgotten your sacred principles already?'

'I was under the impression that Mandalorians did their own hunting, not hire incompetent bounty hunters. Were you able to spare the credits?'

He frowned, parrying another of her blows.

'I recently met another Jedi like you. She also wielded a double blade and never knew when to shut up.'

Bastila whirled around to sideswipe him with her lightsaber, her dark brown hair flopping about with the motion of her body and threatening to come loose from where it was tied back.

'Touched a nerve, have I?' She mocked.

'You claim to be above the recklessness and quick judgment of the Republic and Jedi like Malak and Revan, but you're just as quick to condemn. Look around you, Bastila. Your Order has barely survived. Your blessed Republic is hanging on by its fingernails. I expected better from you.'

'I also expected better, Canderous,' She said softly. 'From a man who claimed he had been altered by his life since the wars, who watched a comrade blast himself in the skull over a matter of honor.'

For a moment he remembered the sands of Tatooine; not light tan and blistering and going on forever, but dark and sticky, spotted with Jagi's blood and pieces of his brain.

He pushed against her lightsaber with his weapon, grasping her hand where it was wrapped around the lower part of the hilt.

With a quick twist of his wrist, he had turned her around, her back up against him and her own lightsaber at her throat.

If the Jedi was alarmed, she didn't show it. Her body was in no way stiff or uncomfortable, even with his hand tight around her gripped weapon and his mouth near her ear.

'I'm pleased you had the sense to return, if your reasons a bit misguided.' He added.

The doors to the complex opened, half a dozen of his warriors charging in. One knelt in front of him, a recently promoted sentry by the name of Lador.

'We have failed you in allowing the Jedi to infiltrate the camps, Mandalore.'

'Your failure will be dealt with in time, Lador.' Mandalore replied icily.

He yanked the lightsaber out of Bastila's hands, shoving her towards the waiting guard.

'Put the Jedi in the holding cells. I want twenty-four hour surveillance and at least four men at all times.'

The Jedi stared him down, and he returned her gaze, sheathing his vibroblade back at his side.

He wasn't surprised the next morning when the lightsaber he had taken and kept next to him as he slept had disappeared, nor was he surprised when all four of his men were found unconscious; three on the ground outside the Force cell and one inside. He also wasn't surprised when he found that his secure files had been accessed, all the information he had collected on the Republic during his time with the Exile copied and tampered with.

Mandalore was only heard to remark somewhat amusedly under his breath:

'Stubborn Jedi Princess.'

'Can I give you a hand?'

Mical glanced up from the three piles of datapads and holocrons surrounding him, forming a sort of wall. He could only see the upper half of his inquirer's face- a raised eyebrow and dark brown hair.

He stood, shaking his head and trying to get rid of the crossed eyes that came from spending the entirety of the day bent over damaged archives.

'You look a little overwhelmed.' The Jedi before him added, gesturing towards the piles.

Mical smiled.

'No more than the Order is with the monumental task before us.'

The Temple had been ransacked during the past few years; graffiti lined its once pristine halls, vandals had broken windows and doors and rewired computer systems. The Jedi libraries and archives themselves were currently in the process of being reclassified, organized, and shelved- as well as taking inventory of what might have been stolen or destroyed.

Mical had jumped at the task, and his master had been quick to encourage him to help.

Perhaps a little too encouraging, he thought, his smile falling a bit. She was quick to encourage him at any task that left him by himself and her to go...well, wherever it was she went.

The pilot may know something of it, he thought, trying to keep his face impassive. There was no reason to suspect her of that. She showed Atton no more attention than she did the rest of their crew.

Mical suddenly realized the Jedi was still standing in front of him.

'I apologize. I don't believe we've met. Padawan Mical.' The Jedi nodded, extending his hand.

'Good to meet you, Mical. Name's Dustil.' The name sounded vaguely familiar, and he felt very strongly as though he should recognize it.

Dustil moved past him, inspecting Mical's carefully categorized piles, picking up one datapad after another and replacing a few in the wrong pile.

Mical followed him, putting each back in its proper place.

'The Sith really did a number on this place.' The Jedi murmured, glancing around the tattered remains of the library.

'Indeed. I sometimes wonder if the Order will ever recover from the blow.' Dustil smiled patronizingly.

'The Order's been through this before. They'll bounce back eventually.' He rubbed his hands together. 'How can I help?'

Mical gestured to a nearby pile of unsorted archives. The Jedi seated himself next to Mical at the table.

He watched as Dustil glanced at one or two, not even reading them all the way through and just tossing them in front of him one after the other.

He must be a newly chosen Padawan or apprentice, Mical thought. Only the brand new ones exhibited that level of...'confidence'.

'I've heard stories about you, Padawan,' The Jedi murmured conversationally. 'About you and your master, how you defeated a whole slew of rising Sith Lords...Nihilus, Sion, Traya-'

'By no means single-handedly,' Mical replied. 'It was a long and difficult mission.'

And she wasn't my master for most of it.

'Is it true what people are saying?' Dustil added.

'Is what true?'

'Is it true that you discovered evidence of a larger threat somewhere in the Unknown Regions? That the Sith Lords you battled were influenced by teachings from ancient Sith?'

'I'm sorry; I'm afraid I'm not able to discuss it.'

The Council had decreed that his research and their findings were to stay private knowledge for the time being; that it was unwise to panic a rebuilding Order with notions of another impending attack. Mical whole-heartedly agreed.

And besides, his master had also requested that he refrain from mentioning the gist of what had happened during their mission to anyone else. He gladly complied with her request.

Dustil nodded, ignoring his own pile of datapads and reaching for one that had fallen on the floor.

'This doesn't look like anything out of the Temple's archives.'

Mical glanced down. It was one of his own datapads; containing all his findings from their mission. He had brought them with him in hopes of finding more clues amid the archives, which Padawans were usually not permitted to browse.

He felt guilty for technically going against the tenets of the Order, but he had been given permission to handle the archives. Surely it wouldn't be completely wrong to try and shed some light on several things that remained unresolved from their battles against the Sith Lords.

It would give her some peace of mind at least, he thought, sighing.

'Oh, forgive me. Those are a few of my own. They must have gotten mixed up within the other materials.'

Dustil nodded, putting it back on the floor and turning back to his own pile.

'Mical! Padawan!'

Mical glanced up. The voice seemed to be coming from deeper in the library. It sounded female.

He hurriedly pushed his chair back.

'Please excuse me.' He murmured to Dustil, who barely looked up from the table.

Mical continued in the direction of the voice, past a few empty or broken shelves.

'Padawan!' The voice called again. It didn't sound quite like his master. Something was slightly off with it, but it had called his name nonetheless. Mical turned down the next aisle, sure that he had heard the voice clearly from there.

The aisle dead-ended into a large pillar. There was no one there.

Funny. I was so sure I heard my name, Mical thought, frowning and heading back towards his table of archives.

The Jedi called Dustil had disappeared. Mical wasn't surprised. The majority of new Padawan or apprentices were unready for their promotions; cocky and arrogant.

He probably considered himself above organizing the Jedi archives, Mical thought, rolling his eyes.

He sat back down at the table, reaching for one of his datapads.

His hand brushed the cold marble floor of the Jedi Temple. He dug through the pile, finding one or two of his datapads, but no more.

Mical furrowed his brow. He had had at least six. He glanced off in the direction of the exit.

No. How could you think that of a fellow Jedi? Mical scolded himself. Dustil had shown no particular interest in his records or his mission beyond one or two questions, which he hadn't pressed after Mical's refusal to answer.

I must have just misplaced them...He thought, shaking his head and returning to the archives.

'I know you.'

She was startled out of her half-nap; the rhythmic motion of the Citadel shuttle and the warmth of her robe around her enough to lull her head into drooping, her back to settle into the worn seat behind her.

They hadn't reached their destination yet; Education Unit 316 was a ways off from Residential Unit 029, at least a twenty minute ride.

Katrina blinked, glancing up at the figure standing over her. A young boy, maybe eight or nine.

She wondered for a moment why he looked so smug.

'Excuse me?'

'You're that lady everyone talks about.' The boy said triumphantly.

Don't look around, she reminded herself. Don't act like there's a reason for people to talk about you.

All the same, she couldn't help turning her head slightly to the left, wondering if there was anyone else on the relatively crowded shuttle watching her.

'Am I?' She replied, trying to give the boy a patronizing smile.

No one else seemed to notice, though it didn't help to alleviate the involuntary urge she had to fidget or run her fingers comfortingly over the lines of her lightsaber.

'I've heard stories about you,' The boy continued loudly. 'People say you're a Jedi.'

Where the hell is your mother? She thought, frowning.

'You've got quite an imagination, don't you? I'm just on my way to pick up my daughter from school. Where are you going?' She murmured, trying to distract him.

The boy looked her over, tilting his head from side to side.

'I heard you're that evil Sith we learned about in school. That you're Revan.'

For a moment all she could think of was how if she was this kid's mother, she would give him a good smack across the face. I'm never going to let Celyn be this rude.

She was suddenly aware of how a few of the passengers in the immediate vicinity of where she sat before the boy had turned to look at the mention of her name.

'Are you?' The boy demanded.

Katrina sighed.

'Yes.'

She waited patiently for the uproar from the shuttle's passengers, for them to surround her, shouting and spitting.

But none came. Only the boy's mother, charging over and putting her hands protectively on the boy's shoulders.

'You shouldn't run off like that,' She scolded. 'Scared me half to death.' Her glare went from the top of her son's head to Katrina.

'And you...filling his head with ridiculous stories like that. Revan's dead. Don't tease my son.' She ushered the boy back to the other corner of the shuttle.

Katrina settled back and wrapped her robes around her, pulling one leg up onto the seat next to her and glancing out the windows at the rush of modules and passing shuttles.

I hate Telos.

Well, maybe not hate. There were worse places in the galaxy to live, certainly places where rumors about her would fly much easier and nastier than they did on the Citadel.

She definitely didn't like Citadel Station. It was confusing and alien, with its innumerable modules and mechanical surroundings, despite the Ithorians' efforts to beautify the station with examples of the plant life they were reintroducing to Telos's ecosystem.

None of it had really mattered until now- before Celyn was born she hadn't ventured anywhere on the station besides their quarters and the docks.

But now that she was back in the public eye, making routine journeys to take Celyn to and from school, the rumors that had plagued her since her very first landing on this planet had returned.

At first, they were nothing but 'Dark Lord' this and 'Revan' that and 'danger to society' thrown in for good measure.

She wondered briefly what kinds of questions Carth had had to face when he had finally woken up from his injuries years ago on the surface of the dying Telos, surrounded by his panicked countrymen. She thought of asking him when she got back-

No. Better to leave answers like that buried. Back then he had probably just vehemently denied that she was anything other than Katrina, a Jedi with a green lightsaber.

Katrina smirked. The lie hadn't changed much. Now he just vehemently denied that she was anything other than Katrina Onasi, a Jedi with a green lightsaber.

Once she and Dustil had returned from Anelli, the rumors had changed to more unsavory ones. The minute one enterprising newsvid had happened to catch a holo of her exiting Admiral Carth Onasi's quarters, every headline had some variant of 'War Hero's Jedi Lover!' for a few weeks.

Luckily for both her and her Padawan (as well as Carth's reputation), they were Jedi in high demand as far as top priority Jedi Council missions went. She took every opportunity to leave the Citadel, to get away from a rebuilding society that was still hostile towards Force-users.

Then came the purges, the assassins, Chael, and the secret Malak helped her to unearth. Rumors hadn't seemed very important then.

When she and Dustil had returned again and she had had Celyn, they had dropped considerably in number anyways.

Jedi or not, a woman with a daughter who was respectably married to a decorated Admiral and cultural hero didn't conjure half as many rumors as a single woman who came and went from the Admiral's quarters as she pleased.

Now if there were rumors they rose up in sporadic amounts, usually whenever something happened to go wrong with a restoration zone or some kind of trouble arose on the station. They confined themselves to the whispers of women and the suspicious stares from men, and occasionally found their voices in the inquiries of HoloNet reporters and the gossip of children; like the boy who had just talked to her.

She wondered for a moment if Celyn had again forgotten the rule about Mommy's name- that even though Father and Dustil called her 'Revan', Celyn was never to tell anyone that was Mommy's name.

I'm complicating her life, Katrina thought with a sigh. And she's only four.

The shuttle finally reached its destination, slowing to a halt with an abrupt shudder. Katrina rose from her seat, following the herd of people towards the exit, beginning the familiar path to Celyn's school.

A nearby information terminal shouted out the hourly newsfeed:

'Ithorian officials announced today new predictions concerning the percentage of Telos's surface that is considered salvageable. Preliminary numbers show an increase from thirty-five percent to thirty-nine-point-seven, bolstering the Telosian Council's hopes that percentages will soon climb to fifty...'

Telos itself wasn't too bad.

Not nearly as bad at it was eight years ago, anyways, she thought.

The ruins still in the habitable regions had been razed and replaced with flora and fauna from different planets- some it previously native to Telos and others exotic variations designed to improve the planet. The energy shields had been completely redesigned and strengthened, blocking off the black skies and crumbling earth of the unsalvageable parts of the planet.

She and Dustil had been down there many times, trying to protect restoration crews when the assassinations had begun.

Katrina smiled to herself for a moment.

Just recently, the Telosian Council had announced that one or two restoration zones had been deemed habitable and safe for residential use- at an incredibly hefty price, of course. The general populace of Citadel Station, while being unable to afford it, was elated.

Carth and Dustil had been no exception. Hell, they were already devising plans to use Carth's status to get a claim on one of the units being constructed.

And it didn't matter if she was on the Citadel or within a nest of rotten, exploding kinrath eggs. Anywhere that Carth was felt like home.

Living on the planet itself might be better than the Citadel, at least. There the air wouldn't be synthesized, and she wouldn't feel like she was stuck in a tin can-

You're not going to be here to move in, she thought absently.

By the time the units were finished being constructed, she would be gone.

She spotted Celyn's teacher- a woman somewhere around her age by the name of Dima, with a face that looked like it was being held back by taut wires.

That tightness only extended itself when the woman noticed Katrina and half-heartedly waved.

'Mrs. Onasi.' She said, curt and sharp as though she were saluting the Admiral rather than the missus.

For some reason, she hated the title. When Carth said 'my wife', it still meant Morgana Onasi. When Katrina heard it as a reference to herself, it only reminded her that she had unwittingly killed the real Mrs. Onasi and took her place.

'You don't sound very happy to see me.'

Dima smiled apologetically, but even her smile looked pained.

'I'm afraid there was an accident-'

'An accident?' Katrina repeated, staring the woman down.

Dima lifted her arm, beckoning behind the wall that separated the entrance from the rest of the school.

Katrina burst out laughing, unable to control it despite the disapproving gaze of the teacher and her aide, who emerged from behind the wall with her daughter.

Celyn Onasi was smeared with dark oil stains over her cheeks and clothing. Her arms were folded in front of her, her head burrowed into her neck.

'What happened?' Dima seemed to be fighting a smirk too despite her reaction to Katrina's laughter.

'One of the teaching droids suffered a burned out vocabulator. Rather than alerting one of the staff, your daughter took it upon herself to try and 'repair' E2.'

The little girl scowled at the floor, kicking at some imaginary offender.

'My daughter? All I see here is a scrubby little Jawa.'

A giggle escaped from her daughter's lips at the nickname, and Celyn threw her arms around Katrina. She returned the hug, lifting her arm and noticing that she too was now smeared with oil.

'Sorry...I'll talk to her. I'll pay for the droid too, if you want.' Dima shook her head, gesturing vaguely towards the shuttle bay elevators.

'As long as there are no more...accidents, Celyn is welcome to return.'

Katrina nodded, grasping Celyn's hand and turning to walk back towards the elevators.

'I guess fixing him didn't go so well, huh?' She teased, glancing down at her daughter.

'I could have,' Celyn insisted. 'But he blew up.'

She sat down on a nearby bench to wait for the next shuttle and tried to wipe the oil from Celyn's clothing, only succeeding in smearing it more.

'You can't keep taking things apart, Celyn,' Katrina murmured. 'You're going to get hurt or damage something important.'

'But he was broken.' Celyn said pointedly, as though that should have been justification enough.

She ran her fingers through her daughter's slightly curly brown hair, working through the tangles the grease and oil had made.

The Admiral really knows how to pick nicknames, she thought, shaking her head.

'Jawa' had been coined only a few months ago, when Celyn had accidentally broken one of her toys apart and hoarded the parts instead of throwing them away. When the toy had resurfaced a few months later, crudely reassembled, Carth had been quick to classify what their daughter reminded him of.

'I don't like it when things are broken.' Her daughter added, standing patiently in front of her while Katrina inspected the state of her clothing.

You also don't like it when you don't know things, or when you don't understand something.

Celyn nodded.

And of course she had the Force- how could she not?

So far it hadn't manifested itself beyond passing messages between her and Celyn. Katrina suspected she could do it with Dustil too, but she had no proof beyond the way he only had to wink at the little girl and she would burst out in giggles. It probably also played a hand in helping a four-year-old know how to take somewhat complex things apart and put them back together again.

The shuttle arrived and she boarded, sitting back down in the corner and letting Celyn crawl up onto her lap.

People stared at her now, but they were only chuckling or making 'aww' noises towards her daughter, who leaned happily against Katrina despite being sticky with droid oil.

She rested her head on top of Celyn's, grasping her daughter's hand firmly from where it lingered near the hilt of her lightsaber.

'What did I tell you about that?' Her daughter stiffened for a moment in her arms, upset at being disciplined.

'That it's only for stopping bad people.' Celyn replied.

'And?'

'And it's dangerous.' Her daughter finished, sounding out the last word syllable by syllable.

Katrina suspected Celyn didn't completely understand what 'dangerous' meant, only that it kept her from doing what she wanted to do.

You're only a little girl, Celyn, she added. Someday, when you're bigger, I'll show you everything you want to see or know about.

'Can I see where you and Dustil and Father go?'

I hope you never have to see the places we've been, she thought to herself, even though she knew that wasn't what her daughter meant.

She meant the many times Carth was gone for weeks on end, why she was sometimes left in the care of one parent while the other was off on Jedi business, why Dustil wasn't around all the time.

As of right now, her former Padawan was on another one of his frequent trips to Coruscant. He would cite meetings with the rebuilding Jedi Council, but Katrina suspected his visits had more to do with a certain up-and-coming HoloNet reporter known for her distinctive blonde curls.

She smirked against Celyn's hair. She was as much a Jedi as ever, but she and the remnants of the Council were somewhat on the outs.

They had been willing to look the other way on a Jedi having a lover. Being married and having a child, however, directly violated the teachings of the Order.

Dustil better consider that on one of his next 'meetings with the Council', she thought wryly.

He spent the majority of his time on Telos, however. Especially since they had discovered the abandoned enclave up on the planet's polar ice caps.

'Whoever was here, they cleared out pretty recently,' Her former Padawan had noted on their first excursion into the complex, inspecting computer consoles with his foot and poking things with his lightsaber.

'I can see why.' Katrina had replied, her teeth chattering as her breath made pale white clouds in the air.

She hadn't been surprised that the abandoned complex had escaped their notice. She felt only the sad, lingering presence of a wounded animal. If there had been Jedi here, there hadn't been many.

'Maybe the weather's not the greatest,' Dustil admitted, burrowing into the hood of his robes. 'But this place would still work pretty well.'

It had sparked Dustil's pet project- starting a Jedi Academy on Telos. The suggestion had surprised her, as he had shown no inclination to take on a Padawan of his own let alone start an entire Academy.

'Sounds fine to me,' Katrina had answered nonetheless. 'As long as you don't ask me to do any seminars or become headmaster.'

He had only rolled his eyes, and she doubted it would ever actually happen. It was probably just the 'Reconstruction Bug', as she had deemed it. Everyone on Citadel Station was infected in one way or another.

'When is Father coming home?' Celyn said, her legs dangling over Katrina's, idly kicking the base of their seat.

'Today.'

If that tanker stops living up to its name and gets back here in a timely fashion.

The Sojourn was notoriously slow, despite being outfitted with the latest in defensive technology and being one of the flagships of the Republic Fleet.

They didn't fight about him being away. She was gone often enough herself to make it a moot point.

Thankfully no major military campaign had arisen in the past four years, and Carth mostly served as the figurehead of Republic presence in this region of the galaxy, conveniently operating out of the Citadel.

It's only the calm before the storm, she thought, glancing out the window again. They're out there. I can feel them.

And I have to stop them.

'Will he be mad?' Celyn suddenly asked, glancing back at her.

Katrina snorted.

No. He'll probably congratulate you on getting far enough to get oil all over yourself.

'Father will be glad to be home, and he'll be glad to see you.' Her daughter nodded, poking the scars around Katrina's hands with her own small ones.

'I'm going to leave soon,' She added, wrapping her arms more securely around Celyn. She could feel the little girl frowning. 'On the big, long trip I told you about.'

'Don't talk about that, Mommy.' Her daughter muttered, holding Katrina's hand possessively.

But it would have to be soon.

The attack on Telos four years ago had been proof enough that there was something else at work, something the Republic was choosing to ignore in favor of stabilizing themselves and rebuilding from the war. The information she was slowly piecing together through Dustil and Bastila was only more proof.

The boy who had accosted her this morning was a final reminder that she couldn't put it off any longer than she already had.

Because you won't always be four years old, she thought, gently lifting Celyn off of her lap as the shuttle reached the residential unit. Four-year-olds don't cover galactic history in school, but older kids do.

And what's going to happen to you when you get to that page in the history books that has my name on it?

She couldn't rewrite them. And as much as she wanted to tell everyone as easily as she had the boy on the shuttle that, yes, she was Revan; she understood that that was impossible.

Celyn slipped from her hand as they entered the apartment, scampering off to her room to play or more likely take another toy apart. There was a message waiting for her on the communications console- the droids had been found and retrieved. She wrote a quick note of thanks to Mission and Zaalbar.

She couldn't rewrite them, but she could make as many new pages as she wanted. And she would start by this trip to the Unknown Regions.

By ending what Lord Revan had started. By ending what she had started.

---

The comlink vibrated against her thigh and she slapped it absent-mindedly, like that might make it shut up. It vibrated again, the muffled words of whoever was trying to call her tickling her skin.

Her hand slipped into her pocket and retrieved the comlink, holding it up to her lips as though ready to answer.

After a moment's hesitation, however, Sarii Zhen turned and chucked it into a nearby flowerbed.

It bounced a few times and settled at the base of a tree, and she could barely make out the low, masculine voice of whoever was still chattering away on it, trying to get her attention.

Atton or Mical, she thought, putting her hands back in the pocket of her robe and walking faster until the sound of the comlink was gone, replaced with the din of Coruscant.

The courtyard of the Jedi Temple was full of people- arriving and departing Jedi, newsvids trying their best to cover the restoration of the Temple despite the Order's refusal to allow them inside the building.

And even if it wasn't, all Sarii would have to do to find a crowd would be to walk a few meters or so towards the nearby docks. Or just look up at the sky; at the hundreds of speeders and ships weaving through the Coruscanti traffic lanes and the high rising towers of the city-planet.

'Feel this moment, for as long as it will last. Feel life, as it is, with the crude matter stripped away.'

Sarii carefully avoided some intrepid reporters, who were cornering anything in a light brown robe. Hers was brand new, and it itched uncomfortably around her neck. She shoved some of her ginger colored hair in between skin and fabric.

She sighed, trying to ignore the fact that she liked wearing brand new Jedi robes; that she liked her lightsaber hitting her in the thigh, swaying back and forth as she walked.

The Force and the people generating it were like a protective blanket. In a throng of people, there was no one to pick her out from the crowd. There was no distinction between her and any other 'Master Jedi'.

Here there was no one to darken the line between Jedi and Exile.

She liked being able to feel the millions of sentients around her. She even liked being able to feel one in particular that she knew very well, coming up quickly behind her. Sarii frowned. It hadn't taken long for one of them to find her. They always did.

This time it was Atton. He was easy to pick out from the rest of the beings around her- he was the only one that radiated blank, the only one that was a series of numbers instead of feelings; astrogation charts instead of emotions.

He jogged up beside her, catching his breath and straightening his ribbed jacket.

'You're walking at breakneck speed there. Late for something?'

'Not that I know of.' She answered, hoping he wouldn't mention the comlink.

'Found this back in the bushes.' No such luck.

Atton tossed it once before brushing some dirt off of it and replacing it in his pocket.

'You scared the hell out of your Padawan with that one. He's off looking for you right now.'

She glanced around, finding no sign of Mical, and she looked back up at Atton quizzically.

'He might've been...pointed in the opposite direction.' The pilot replied, scratching behind his ear and smirking.

'He cannot help but love you in his way. It is a pure, ideal love he holds, strengthened by your presence and your actions.'

Which is exactly why I avoid him, Sarii thought guiltily.

Things like that- like the fact that she avoided her own Padawan whenever possible, made that line between what she wanted to be and what she was glaringly obvious.

It wasn't entirely her fault of course; when she had agreed almost a year ago to train him, she had had no way of knowing that Mical, a disciple of the Jedi Code and a devotee of the Order; blond haired and blue eyed and unwilling to betray his principles would develop a rampant crush on her. One that would betray those principles if he ever acted on it.

He wouldn't, she knew, but it didn't change the fact that it was damn awkward having a Padawan who practically batted his eyes at you.

Yes, it is awkward, isn't it?

Sarii blushed slightly at the familiar voice in her head.

That was...completely different, Master Kavar. I didn't...I mean, I never-

'Hey, your face is starting to match your hair there,' Atton murmured. 'You don't have some hot date you're not telling me about, do you?'

She rolled her eyes at him.

'Well that's good to hear,' He continued. 'Because you have another one you have to go on anyways.'

'And I suppose you're going to say it's you?'

Only after she said it did she realize how condescending she sounded; how completely awkward she had made the silence that followed.

'He has nothing to offer one such as you- and even a fool such as Atton is not so ignorant of that fact.'

'Nah,' He finally said, laughing shakily. 'Just you and maybe five or ten old men.'

'Sounds charming.' Sarii added quickly.

'I've heard the Jedi Council always is.'

They turned around and headed back towards the immense spires of the Jedi Temple.

'How's the ship?' Atton exhaled up against his forehead, rustling his dark brown hair.

'I'm running out of spit, though I've got a lot of bailing wire left. Should be able to get us off the planet.'

'Until, you know, we hit space and every major system starts failing.' He added.

'Your glass of juma juice is always half full, isn't it?' Sarii replied, smirking.

'Hey, believe me, I'm hoping just as much as you that the damn thing is patched together enough to get us out of here,' Atton said, holding up his hands in surrender. 'I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really tired of Coruscant.'

She wasn't. As long as there were a lot of people, she would never get tired of any place.

But she could understand why the rest of them were probably tired of sleeping on the battered freighter's bunks; slowly repairing the damage done from crashing on Dxun, outrunning firefights above Onderon, being hammered in the battle at Telos and, of course, Malachor Five.

It had been almost a year since they had been towed back to Coruscant after their last mission, and she had spent that time trying to help the Order and train her Padawan. She supposed it might have been cheaper and quicker to just save up some credits and buy a whole new ship instead of waiting until they had earned enough to repair their broken one.

But the Ebon Hawk was like Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa- too full of life. She could feel the memories of everything and everyone that had happened upon its scorched metal flooring, from a strange sense of comfort whenever she stepped inside its small sickbay to the energy that radiated in the center of the ship- whatever had happened there too strong to fade away.

'Tired of Coruscant?' She repeated dumbly, trying to think of a way to phrase her next suggestion that wouldn't make it sound like she didn't want him around any more.

'I know, I know, there's nothing keeping me here if I am, right?' He beat her to it, frowning.

It wasn't that she didn't want him around. She did.

'I killed her because I loved her.'

And that was the problem.

'Nothing keeping you here? Who's going to fly my ship?' Sarii said, glancing sideways at him.

He returned it somewhat suspiciously.

'I guess there's always that.'

Mical stood near the entrance to the Jedi Temple. He bowed his head slightly as she approached.

'Good afternoon, Master.'

'You found me.' She murmured, shooting a dirty look towards Atton, who didn't seem the least bit apologetic.

'I knew you would return to the Temple to meet with the Council eventually. A far more efficient choice than wandering around the upper levels of Coruscant looking for you.'

His affable smile cooled, raising an eyebrow over her head at the pilot.

'In the wrong direction, I might add.'

'Right...well, now that you're back in your natural habitat and everything, I'll get back to the ship and find something else to break.' Atton said, turning sharply back in the direction of the docks.

Sarii headed into the Temple, beginning the path to the Jedi Council meeting chambers.

'Do you know what this is about, Mical?' He shook his head.

'No, Master. The Council only requested an urgent meeting with you within the hour. I believe it to have something to do with our discoveries at the Trayus Academy on Malachor Five, though it's only my own speculation.'

She tried not to like the fact that she was a Jedi in brand new robes, walking with her Padawan to a meeting with the Jedi Council; even though thoughts like that were better than thinking of the Trayus Academy, than thinking of Malachor Five.

'It is ancient, a relic that survived the destruction of Malachor. It was always here, far before the Mandalorian Wars.'

Sarii couldn't keep herself from staring at him like he was deranged; a beast made of pieces of flesh giving her the history of the building between sparring.

The Council chambers were restored first; to inspire the quickly recruited apprentices and Padawans, to give hope to the scarred Jedi who came limping back to Coruscant after the assassin situation had calmed down.

It was as beautiful as she had found it when she was chosen and assigned a Master, when she was knighted, and even when she had been cast out.

'Jedi Sarii, Padawan Mical.'

The chairs and decor hadn't changed, but the men and women who sat in them had.

'Members of the Council.' Sarii replied, bowing slightly as she reached the center of the room.

It was easy to remember the old rituals, like dances your feet never quite forgot. Bow, greet, keep your mind clear and open, stand with your feet apart and your hands clasped behind you-

'Do you know why we have called you before us?'

It was easy to remember other things too. She exercised control and forced herself not to cringe.

'No, Master Ahniuk.' The Twi'lek nodded, resting his salmon colored hands on his chair.

'The Council is prepared to hear your testimony.'

'My testimony?' Sarii repeated.

'We figured it was about time we discussed a little place called Malachor Five .'

Even Master Bindo's unadorned speech couldn't make 'Malachor Five' sound any less foreboding. Sarii glanced at the old Jedi, who sat leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees.

'Is there a problem with this request, Jedi Sarii?' The soft voice of Master Korr, a female Zabrak, added.

'No, no problem, Master Korr. I just wonder what's sparked the Council's interest after almost four years.'

At first she had thought they were just going easy on her; giving her time to adjust before beginning an interrogation on what had happened during their long battle against three rising Sith Lords. They had been too busy choosing members to form a new Council anyways; restructuring the Jedi that remained and trying to regroup. Then a year had passed, and then another, until Sarii had assumed that they didn't consider whatever the Trayus Academy represented a threat.

The members of the Council exchanged glances and looked expectantly at her.

'That's...a large topic, Master,' Sarii finally began. 'Is there something specific you'd like to discuss?'

'We have already heard your account of how the Jedi Master once known as Kreia turned to the dark side-'

'Is that what she was? Or was she always true to herself, no matter what personality she wore?'

'-And became Darth Traya. We know of how she murdered Masters Vrook, Kavar, and Zez-Kai Ell. We have heard of your battle against her cohorts, Nihilus and Sion. The Council wishes to hear your account of the final confrontation on Malachor Five, and of this Academy that stood on its surface.' Ahniuk murmured.

You're on, Padawan.

Mical reacted immediately, one datapad held out in front of him more for reference than anything else.

'The Trayus Academy is believed to have been standing on Malachor since the Mandalorian Wars, though its existence is speculated to have been since the very earliest of the Jedi archives were written.'

'It has been here for thousands of years-'

'It was once a place of teaching and sanctuary to the ancient Sith- the very first Lords who arose when their strength in the Force was combined with the knowledge of how to use it from the Dark Jedi who defected from the Order.'

'It is a place where Sith teachings run strong...it is the threshold of the borders of an ancient empire. The teachings here will lead one to the Sith- the true Sith, and all their shadowed worlds.'

'Our conclusion upon battling Nihilus, Sion, and Traya is that they were students of these ancient ideals- those of the true Sith.'

'It draws death and hate to it, channels it. Many Jedi have been consumed by it.'

'How these teachings were brought back to the galaxy from the fringes of known space is a mystery. They focus on turning Jedi rather than murdering them, on conversion and persuasion rather than power by supremacy and strength of arms.'

'It is not mercy. What awaits you will weaken you. She will break you, turn you, as she did me, and you will no longer know yourself.'

She tried to tell herself that it was resolve, not fear, that made her finally strike her killing blow against Sion's chest.

'Darth Traya used these methods of control on the members of the former Council; Vrook, Kavar, and Zez-Kai Ell. She convinced them that Master Sarii was a threat to the Order and to the survival of the Force, and that they had the power to break her connection to the Force. When they gathered on Dantooine to attempt this procedure, Traya murdered them.'

Sarii felt her lower lip trembling, but her hands suddenly couldn't find her lightsaber. They shook against her belt as she saw Masters Vrook, Zez-Kai Ell-

Even Kavar, his face impassive and his blue blades parallel at his sides.

'Master-' She stammered.

'Do not be afraid,' He said; so calmly, like it was just another lesson to Padawan Zhen. 'You shall feel no pain. As long as you feel the Force, you are a danger to those around you.'

'Do you agree then, Jedi Sarii, that this threat of the true Sith is real?' Master Korr finished.

'I do, Master Korr,' She answered readily. 'The Sith we've dealt with until now are a belief, and their beliefs don't follow the methods that Nihilus, Sion, and Kreia-'

'I have used you. I have used you so that you might become strong, stronger than I.'

She shook her head.

'-Traya used against their enemies. Superiority through manipulation. These ideals came from somewhere else.'

Sarii stood quietly, waiting as the members of the Council collectively nodded. She could sense them trying to decide who would be the one to pose the next question to her.

'Our interest in this subject is not without sufficient grounds, Jedi Sarii,' Ahniuk continued. 'The Council has become increasingly aware of the possible threat to the Order and the Republic growing the Unknown Regions. Recently we have been reminded of what it might claim should it ever reach the Republic by Jedi Dustil-'

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mical look up sharply, as though he recognized the name.

'Minor details, Ahniuk,' Master Bindo interrupted, the look he shot to the Twi'lek making it obvious that the rest of Jedi Dustil whomever's name was no minor detail.

'Jedi Sarii,' Ahniuk began again, narrowing his eyes at Bindo but continuing all the same. 'Are you aware of the fate of Revan?'

'Revan?'

Don't repeat words. It's a bad habit you have, repeating words. Don't shuffle your feet, don't look at the ground, you're in front of the Jedi Council, show them your respect-

'I had heard she was redeemed after the destruction of the Star Forge, and that she traveled to the Unknown Regions to seek out the threat of the true Sith.'

Korr nodded.

'It was not the decision of the Council-'

'She went on her own.' Sarii finished.

Even the Jedi knew little more than the rumors that still occasionally rose up on Coruscanti newsvids. Revan had killed Malak, blew up the Star Forge, and then disappeared. It was a short history, but Sarii knew it nonetheless.

Like every kid knows her name now. Like how she's in the history books like we all knew she would be, savior of the galaxy, all of us sitting at her right hand, mentioned somewhere underneath Malak and Saul Karath-

It hadn't quite turned out the way Sarii remembered thinking it would.

'Forgive me, Masters,' She added brusquely. 'But what does Revan have to do with the Trayus Academy? What does this have to do with me?'

'Revan refused the help of other Jedi,' Master Bindo murmured. 'Even her own Padawan was left behind-'

'Her own Padawan?' Sarii interrupted.

She had no Padawan. Only Jedi have Padawans, not Dark Lords.

'Former Padawan, excuse me,' Bindo continued smoothly. 'There's been hide nor hair of her for months-'

'Months? Revan is believed to have been absent from known space for at least eight years.' Mical added, glancing at her.

Sarii couldn't help but notice her reflection staring back at her from the glass window behind Master Bindo- her features scrunched up in confusion like an angry kath hound pup.

'Enough of this,' Ahniuk interrupted sharply, eying Bindo from across the room. 'The Council charges you with a task, Jedi Sarii. You are to seek out Revan in the Unknown Regions and inform the Council of her fate, as well as what she may have discovered of this Sith threat.'

'What?'

Her voice echoed off the pillars of the Council chambers, one indignant octave higher than normal.

'The Council feels that your experience in fighting these...new Sith ideals and beliefs will aid you against whatever awaits the Order. Sending any other Jedi would surely be sentencing them to their deaths.'

For a moment, Sarii wanted to pull out her lightsaber again, extend it; watch the Masters hold their breath.

But instead of stabbing it into the central pillar which was no longer there, she wanted to fling it at every single one of their arrogant, secretive heads.

'Members of the Council,' Sarii began slowly. 'Let me get this straight. I was exiled from the Order, made to give up my lightsaber, told I was no longer worthy to be a Jedi because I joined Revan and Malak in the Mandalorian Wars.'

Master, calm yourself-

You don't understand, Mical, she snapped, and he nodded respectfully.

Your Padawan's showing more control than you. You're in front of the Council, show them your respect-

Her tone had fallen back into derision, but she had too much momentum to stop now.

'And now you're asking me to follow her on a dangerous mission into unexplored space with too many question marks for you to send another Jedi?'

Her outrage must have been plain on her face. The members of the Council looked scandalized.

'It does sound a lot worse when you put it like that.' Except for Master Bindo, who watched her reactions without a trace of shock.

They should know better. Jedi should know better than to-

'Your thoughts betray you, Exile,' Korr interrupted. 'Jedi should know better? Better than what? We assumed you would be willing to embark on a journey to find the woman you found inspiring enough to defy our predecessors.'

'Well, I-'

'Exile' rung loudly in her ears, though Korr had not been loud enough to make an echo in the room.

Sarii stopped herself, straightening up.

'I'm very sorry, Masters, but I have to refuse your request.'

Still defiant?

Expecting me to follow orders to do what I was exiled for is plenty grounds for defiance, Master Kavar, she shot back to the ghost.

'Indeed. That is most astonishing, Exile.' Ahniuk grumbled.

They were all using 'Exile' all of a sudden, and she didn't like it one bit. Her fingers traced the lines in her palm, and she tried to think of how many lines were there, how many cards were used in Pazaak-

'Revan's influence ended when she and Malak turned to the dark side. I will not follow her anymore, whether it's into battle or to drag her back from a solo mission.'

I won't follow her anymore. I did the right thing. I chose for myself.

'Are you certain, Jedi Sarii?' She thought she might kiss old Master Bindo for using her name. 'If you refuse, the Council won't ask you again.'

'You must go where Revan did, into the Unknown Regions, where the Sith, the true Sith, wait in the dark for the great war that comes.'

'I'm certain, Master Bindo. Send someone else. Her...Padawan, perhaps.'

No Kreia, I won't follow you anymore either. I will not be used to deceive both the Sith and the Jedi, to manipulate the Republic, to make you feel better about your failures.

I've got enough of my own.

'Will all future requests of the Council be answered in this way, Exile?' Ahniuk murmured. 'Should this threat escalate into a war, will you abandon the Order then as well?'

'No, Master Ahniuk. Unlike your predecessors, I don't abandon those in need.' Sarii forced herself to bow, sharp and clumsy as she turned quickly on her heel and exited the chambers.

The Jedi Temple suddenly had never seemed so expansive and never-ending. She practically sprinted to the exit, sighing in relief when she was finally back outside in the courtyard.

Mical wasn't far behind.

'Sarii,' He finally murmured, reaching for her shoulder.

Despite being a few years younger than her, he was both taller and more solid. She glanced up at his blue eyes that had crossed the line from Padawan to Disciple.

Her line was still between Jedi and Exile, and she knew which side she wanted to be on. Sarii waved him off, slipping out from under his hand.

'I'll be all right, Padawan. It's a handy opportunity for a lesson. The Council isn't always right.'

'Do you still believe that?'

Did I ever believe it?

Sarii decided it was better not to answer, and instead continued towards the docks, towards the Hawk.

The battered freighter stood out from the others; not because it was a legendary ship or because of its sleek design, but because most of its hull was blackened or the slate grey of steel, its finish and paint job long scratched and scorched off.

The gangplank creaked as they stepped over it, groaning with the effort of having to provide a walkway for perhaps the thousandth time.

Mira glanced up from where she was sitting in the middle of the ship, feet propped against the holoprojection table.

''Bout time. Maybe you can talk some sense into Atton. I think he's got cabin fever or something.'

The bounty hunter toyed with her wrist launcher, adjusting it with a few tools sticking out of her boot.

'What's going on?'

Mira shrugged.

'Beats me. He keeps babbling about Republic High Command. Maybe all the strenuous months of juma juice, Twi'lek dancing girls, and Pazaak have gone to the boy's head.'

Sarii stepped over the half-repaired computer panel near the corridor to the cockpit; its wires and mechanical components scattered across the floor.

'Something up?' She said mockingly to Atton, who turned in the pilot's chair from where he had been bent over the controls.

'You and the Council play nice?'

Sarii said nothing, sitting down in the co-pilot chair.

It was the most comfortable place on the ship. She felt innately right in it; like it had been built for a female Jedi and no one else.

'I guess that's a no.' He added after a moment's silence.

She couldn't picture Atton anywhere else either. His chair carried the vague scent of sweat and hostility.

'What's this I hear about Republic High Command?'

Atton cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. He punched a few buttons, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms.

'You've got some friends in high places.'

Sarii glanced at the screen in front of her where Atton had brought up an official looking message, headed with the seal of the Republic and the standard disclaimer for military communication.

THIS MESSAGE IS CLASSIFIED AND INTENDED ONLY FOR THE ADDRESSED RECIPIENT. ANY ATTEMPT TO DECODE THE MESSAGE'S ENCRYPTION WILL RESULT IN CHARGES OF TREASON AND TAMPERING AGAINST THE REPUBLIC.

She remembered the heading from her days as a General and found that she could almost recite it.

I was a General. An nineteen-year-old General.

It called up both her titles, past and present:

Jedi Knight Sarii Zhen

General Zhen of the Republic Army:

You are ordered to report to Citadel Station, orbiting the planet of Telos. The assistance of the Jedi is required and the details of your mission will be discussed pending your arrival.

The message was terse and to the point, in the usual militaristic style. Sarii knew it had been written by a secretary rather than the standard holoprint at the bottom of the message:

Admiral Carth Onasi

'What do you make of that, General?' Atton murmured.

'What do I make of it? I make that it's an order from Republic High Command. I'm still a member of the Republic.'

They didn't exile me, at least.

'So I guess we're going back to Telos again,' Atton muttered, putting a leg up on the bulkhead. 'Not the first place I wanted to go once we got this thing cobbled together again.'

She didn't really want to either. She had a pretty good idea what the 'mission' had to do with.

'I served with her, like you did. And we had to part, like you did.'

But anything was better than staying here and enduring the Council's disappointment, worrying that she only had to give them another reason to take her lightsaber away again.

Sarii grasped her double blade protectively, a bitter smile crossing over her face.

'It's not the destination that matters, Atton; but the journey.'

---

'Admiral Onasi?'

He glanced up from where he stood near the windows of the Intrepid. The Republic capital ship looked out over Citadel Station from where she was docked, blocking one or two modules from sight.

'Admiral Dodonna will see you now, sir.'

Carth nodded, running a hand through his hair before concealing it under his hat; tugging on the front of his uniform and breezing past the lieutenant who had admitted him.

He had been surprised the uniform still fit him at all. It had been sitting in his closet for at least six months, collecting dust and declined command opportunities.

Little snug around the gut, he thought with a rueful smirk. It was a pretty unrealistic expectation to hold onto the abs and pectorals of a Captain when he was an Admiral fast approaching fifty. Most exercise he got these days was chasing after a five-year-old.

But despite all the office hours, admiralty still had its perks. One was being bumped straight to the head of line for a meeting with one of the heads of the Fleet.

Another was that he wasn't required to tell anyone other than the woman sitting at the desk in the back of the office he entered exactly why he'd scheduled the meeting at all.

Forn Dodonna stood as he approached the desk, taking his salute with a curt nod of her head.

'Carth. It's good to see you again.'

'Likewise, Admiral.' Carth replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

Dodonna smiled, reseating herself.

'All business today, it seems. Well, let's hear it. How are things going on the Citadel? I haven't heard anything of another attack. Telos's reconstruction seems to be going smoothly.'

The Citadel...well, the Citadel never changed. It just spawned more and more modules, and even he and half the Lieutenants of the TSF couldn't keep track of them all.

He'd been down to the surface of Telos, however, and what he saw made him happy if not out of place. It wasn't exactly the home he remembered- there were canyons and hillsides that hadn't existed decades ago, plants and animals he couldn't remember smelling or avoiding.

'Reconstruction's going fine. The Ithorians are upping their percentages almost weekly, and the first residential complex is almost finished.'

Not that it'll mean much in the long run, he thought, rolling his eyes. Only the obscenely rich or influential could afford one of the housing units; built for publicity and symbolism.

Like every other Telosian on the station, he'd briefly entertained the idea of getting one. Unlike every other Telosian, he had both the credits and the influence to make it a reality.

I don't want it without her. Besides, she probably doesn't want to live on Telos for the rest of her life-

'I've heard something about a certain young man running an excavation up on the polar ice caps too.'

The only other construction going on was private and out of the Ithorians' jurisdiction. It was being conducted by a number of men and women in light brown robes, coordinated by the Jedi Council. When finished, there would be quite a lot of Jedi traffic on Citadel Station; masters, padawans, apprentices and eventually a mini-Council in charge of affairs at the Telos Jedi Academy.

The snow from the boots of the leader of the construction left a wet trail in his apartment nearly every day. Dustil never could remember to wipe his shoes off.

Carth smiled proudly.

'Jedi Knight Onasi's determined when he wants to be. Me, I would have just left it an icebox.' He chuckled along with Dodonna.

'Still giving you grey hairs, I see.' His commanding officer murmured, glancing at the patches of slate creeping into his dark brown hair behind his ears.

'No more than you.' Carth replied with a smirk. Forn's hair, once the color of rust, was now completely white.

Dodonna's fingernails tapped on the glass surface of her desk as she nodded. He kept his hands behind his back and his posture straight, even though he could feel her eyes narrowing on him, her scrutinizing gaze taking him back to his days as a Captain.

'And the Sojourn? She's due for a few hyperdrive upgrades soon, so you can tell your officers to stop barraging the Department of Fleet Readiness and Logistics with complaints about her speed.'

'She's making pretty good time to Onderon from what I've heard.'

Dodonna frowned.

Probably shouldn't have reminded her that I've passed on the opportunity to command the Sojourn at least twice in the past month.

'Well, Admiral Onasi,' She finally replied, sitting up in her chair and leaning forward over the desk, folding her hands over her computer console. 'I'm at a loss to understand then just why you requested this high priority meeting with me. Sounds like both the station and the ships under your command are doing fine.'

Her voice was dry and formal. Carth tried to keep his face as impassive as he could.

'I'm here to propose a covert operation, Admiral Dodonna. In regards to the possible Sith threat brought to our attention by Republic agents and members of the Jedi Order.'

Dodonna sighed heavily, and he struggled not to let his shoulders slump. He was reasonably sure of how this was going to turn out.

Don't tell her how damn much you need her to approve this mission.

'The Sith are believed to be massing somewhere in the Unknown Regions, specifically regions one and two, outside the Atravis and Vara sectors. I'm proposing a mission to ascertain the threat to the Republic, one that doesn't risk the lives of an entire crew or take a ship away from the Fleet.'

When the hell did I learn words like 'ascertain'?

He retrieved a datapad from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to her. Dodonna took it wordlessly.

'The datapad contains a complete proposal for the execution of this mission, as well as suggested personnel, required clearances, and a contingency plan if it happens to fail.'

Admiral Dodonna glanced over it, one eyebrow rising higher and higher as he watched her eyes go from line to line.

'I see you've listed yourself as commanding officer.'

He nodded.

'And listed no other personnel to accompany you.' She added sharply.

'That's your prerogative, Admiral. I'm requesting your permission for an extended leave of absence to begin this mission.'

To no great surprise of Carth's, Dodonna shook her head.

'We're in a fragile position, Carth. The Republic is finally gaining some semblance of stability again. You're one of my top officers. I can't afford to lose you right now.'

'With all due respect, Admiral,' He continued, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, making his voice carefully neutral. 'Unless we start giving this threat its due attention, we could have another war on our hands in a few years.'

Dodonna's grey eyes, which looked more and more critical the whiter her hair got each year, bore down on him.

He struggled to remind himself that they were the same rank, that he had no reason to start squirming like a nervous recruit.

'You and I have had this conversation before, Carth.' She murmured in a low voice.

'About six months ago, Admiral.' He replied evenly.

When her transmissions stopped. When the last thing I got from her was: 'Found your homing device today. HK used it for target practice. Love you.'

Carth had reacted immediately, coming straight to Dodonna, requesting his leave and his clearances.

And been denied both.

Admiral Dodonna stood, folding her arms and stepping out from behind her desk.

'It is my understanding, Admiral Onasi, that a representative of the Jedi Order has already been dispatched to discover the nature of this threat.'

'Yes.' He answered. It was easier than trying to explain to Dodonna that the Council hadn't sent her, that she was on some kind of mythical quest for a redemption he'd thought she'd already earned.

'And that that representative happened to be none other than Jedi Knight Katrina Onasi.'

It made him feel oddly proud to hear his name attached to hers, even though the entire goal of this meeting was to get permission to rescue her from what he considered to be a really stupid idea.

'Yes.' He repeated. Dodonna sighed again.

'Carth, may I ask you a personal question?' She paused only a moment, and then continued without waiting for his reply.

'Are you standing here in front of me because you're concerned for the Republic or worried about your wife?'

Don't tell her how you wake up in the middle of the night, so sure you heard her come in. Don't tell her how your daughter has nightmares through the Force that you can't do anything about.

'I would hope that either would be enough reason for Republic command to consider my request.' Carth said smoothly.

Dodonna scoffed.

'Republic command knew nothing of this. We weren't notified about her trip or her departure. To my knowledge, neither was the Jedi Council.'

He watched her cautiously as she leaned up against the front of her desk, staring him down.

'The only ones who knew about this were presumably you and your wife. And it sounds as though even you don't know much more than the rest of us.'

'That's why I'm proposing this mission, Admiral.'

'She's been gone a long time, Carth.' Dodonna added softly.

One year and six months, almost to the day. He sighed.

'What are you getting at, Forn?'

'I agree that there's a possible threat in the Unknown Regions that should be weighted and considered, as well as investigated. You, however, are not the man for the job.'

His hands tightened behind his back and he frowned at her.

'Are you questioning my ability to do my duty?'

'No, I'm not-'

'Don't ever question me on that, Admiral,' He interrupted sharply. 'I lost a wife and almost a son to doing my duty.'

The reminders still hurt, even a decade later. He used to wonder why he tortured himself by mentioning Morgana.

Eventually he'd figured out that he was terrified of forgetting her.

'Don't presume to lecture me on duty, Admiral Onasi,' Dodonna snapped, standing at her full height, almost taller than him but not quite. 'I'm aware of your loss, just as I am aware of the losses of every other man and woman in this fleet. Many of these civilian deaths were incurred during the ending of the Mandalorian Wars and the beginning of the Sith War.'

She glared at him for a moment as though he were to blame.

'A war that was, if you'll remember, brought about from two Jedi we thought we could trust. One of which is still alive and walks among us.'

'Did it ever cross your mind that perhaps she's stopped sending you messages for a reason?' The Admiral continued without pause. 'Other than the possibility that something's happened to her? Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps she's on her way back with a fleet, just like she was a decade ago after the last war?'

'That's completely ridiculous, Forn-'

'Is it?' Dodonna broke in, cutting him off in the middle of his outraged sputtering. 'She's done it before, Admiral. Who's to say she isn't doing it again?'

'I don't trust her, Carth,' She finished, folding her arms in front of her. 'And it's been all I can do to keep my mouth shut all these years, to keep from doing my duty and informing the Republic that Lord Revan is still alive.'

Don't try and tell her she's wrong, that she doesn't know her like you do. Don't try and explain that if you can love her unreservedly despite the past, everyone else should be able to too.

He finally let his hands unclasp from behind his back, and he rubbed the sweaty palms against his trousers, lifting his hat and running a few fingers through his hair.

'How's your daughter?' Dodonna said suddenly. 'Must be around six or seven. That's a good age.'

Carth gave the Admiral a withering stare.

'Five. And she misses her mother.'

Carth blinked a few times, groaning and pushing himself up slightly. He waited until his pupils adjusted and he could make out the lines of his bedroom, the figure standing next to the bed, barely tall enough to reach him.

'What's wrong, Jawa? Did you have a nightmare?'

She shook her head, grasping his arm through the covers again. It would have surprised him if she was. She didn't come to him with her nightmares anyways.

'She's gone.' Her voice was insistent, more surprised that he hadn't noticed yet then scared of whatever she thought was gone.

He was half-asleep, he was getting older; for a moment he struggled to think of what she was talking about.

Of course- she didn't come to him with her nightmares; she went to her mother. Her mother who was not Morgana, with long black hair and a dazzling smile.

Her mother who was Katrina; Revan, a pair of direct hazel eyes and soft brown tresses.

'No, Celyn, she's not gone yet,' Carth murmured, sitting up in bed. 'She's here, she's right-'

He gazed at the empty spot in the bed next to him, the outline of where her body had been lying what seemed only a moment ago.

Celyn whimpered quietly.

'She left...' His daughter said. 'She didn't say goodbye to me.'

His half-conscious brain scrambled to figure out where she was, why there was the same tightness in his chest that he felt in his daughter's trembling body.

'Mommy isn't going to leave without saying goodbye,' Carth murmured, rubbing her back as she clung to him. 'She promised, remember?'

Celyn only wailed into his chest, beginning to hiccup as tears gathered near her eyes.

If Dustil had cried when he had left, Carth hadn't known about it. Celyn was born from the same proud, stubborn genes. She never cried either.

Only at night, when she couldn't find her mother.

'She's your wife, Admiral Onasi,' 'She' came out from Dodonna's lips like it was a particularly unappetizing pronoun. 'And thus I can't trust you to be objective when it comes to dealing with her-'

'She's not a Dark Lord anymore. She hasn't been one for practically eight years now. You haven't had to 'deal' with her since-'

'I understand that. That's exactly why I've never said anything about her identity. That's why I've let you live your lives on Telos. But when she disappears and leaves no word for months- plenty of time to rebuild an army or recruit whatever Sith might be out there, I start to worry.'

'If you're worried, then give me my leave and let me go find out.' Carth said slowly, trying to keep the words from coming out like the impatient hiss that had been building in his stomach for six months.

'Look, Forn, I'm a soldier,' He began tiredly. 'If you order me to stay here, leading checkups on Rimward planets and watching the Citadel get fatter, I'll do it. But expect me back in this office as soon as my orders are fulfilled.'

Dodonna studied him quietly.

'Your leave is granted, Admiral Onasi.'

Don't show her how relieved you are. Don't let her know that you were about five seconds away from resigning.

'That is, if you truly think it's going to benefit the Republic. That your departure isn't in your own self-interests.' She added.

When your wife's the former Dark Lord Revan, the two are pretty much the same thing.

'Thank you, Forn.' Dodonna waved him away, frowning.

'You're dismissed, Admiral. I don't want to see you back in this office until we have some answers.' Carth nodded, saluting again and exiting the room.

He deftly navigated the corridors of the ship- identical in design and layout to many of his own; through the airlock and back onto the Citadel.

He felt a thousand light-years better than he had stepping onto the Intrepid; so sure that he would be told that he was needed here, that he would be denied his request. So sure that he would hate himself for staying, for being unable to desert the Republic or shirk his duty.

Carth Onasi was not a man who broke promises. Either to a group, an individual, or even to himself.

The light from the fresher blinded him for a moment as the door opened. Katrina stood in the doorway, watching them.

Relief floored him, woke him up from his drowsy state.

'Look, Jawa,' He murmured in the little girl's ear, motioning towards Katrina. 'She's not gone.'

Celyn immediately began to wipe her tears, sniffling and trying to hide the fact that she'd been crying.

Katrina walked over and picked their daughter up.

'Mommy...don't go-' Celyn said, her voice reaching a petulant, temper-tantrum kind of tone.

'I have to go someday, Celyn. You know that.' Her tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't gentle either.

Carth watched her carry Celyn out of their bedroom and through the sitting room. He waited until she had opened the door to the little girl's room, and then he pushed himself out of bed, crossing to where T3 sat regenerating in the corner.

He powered up the droid, who beeped inquisitively. Carth put a finger to his lips, glancing after Katrina to make sure she hadn't noticed.

'Quiet, T3. I don't want her to hear. There isn't much time.'

He exchanged nods with a few TSF patrols as he passed them, breezed past a pair of women making eyes at him.

Carth smirked to himself. Had to appreciate the latter when he could get it- Years had passed, he'd collected more scars, and he was no longer the HoloNet heartthrob he used to be. There were more starry-eyed ensigns around him now than women.

The door to his apartment opened, and he hissed loudly as he tripped over a pair of boots.

'Oh, sorry,' He glanced up at where Dustil was sprawled on the couch.

Should have known, Carth thought, glancing down at the standard knee-high boots of the Jedi Order again and noticing a small puddle beneath their heels.

The sight of Jedi robes flung over chairs and tables wasn't an irregular sight in his home. It had taken him time to get used to seeing Dustil with a lightsaber hanging at his side, but eventually that had become normal too.

'Hey, at least I took them off.' His son added, sitting up and folding his hands behind his head.

'Good to have you home, Dustil. You get back from Coruscant early?'

'Yeah,' His son murmured, standing up. 'Yeah...'

Carth cocked an eyebrow, watching Dustil put his hands in his pocket. He had a vague memory of that exact look on his own face- that blissful smirk and faraway gaze, like there was an entire world only he could see- but it escaped him now just what that look meant.

'Are you going to tell me what the hell you're so happy about?' He prompted.

'She said yes.' Dustil answered, grinning.

'Who?' His son rolled his eyes.

'Admiral Dodonna. Tova, Father! She said yes.'

It took a moment to decipher exactly what it was Dustil was trying to tell him, and it slowly dawned on him that Tova's 'yes' meant that his son was getting married.

'That's great, Dustil,' He replied, gripping his arm and patting him on the back. 'Third time's a charm I guess, huh?'

His son smirked.

'I guess so.'

My son is getting married. My son is happy.

Dustil was still slightly shorter than him, clean-shaven and beaming like a twenty-something in love; a role Carth occasionally forgot the young Jedi Knight played.

'I bet...I bet Mom would be ribbing me about how many tries it took.' Dustil suddenly said, glancing up at him.

Our son is getting married. Our son is happy, Ana.

'She'd be so proud of you, Dustil.' Carth murmured, giving him a sad smile.

There was no promise that could bring Morgana back. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

T3 hummed quietly in front of him, waiting for whatever instruction or message he was about to give.

'She's got you and HK back and completely repaired. She's gathered all her information from the crew of the Ebon Hawk. She's found herself a new ship, had all the markings and ID signature changed, and it's practically stocked and fueled. Any day now...'

Carth paused, peering back through the doorway. He watched Katrina enter Celyn's room, closing the door behind her.

'She's got that look in her eyes, T3,' He continued furtively. 'And every time I ask her to promise me she'll come back, she just walks away.'

He sighed heavily, kneeling in front of the droid.

'I can't accept that as an answer. She has to come back. Celyn needs her. I need her.'

The words brought it home; that one of these mornings he would wake up and she would really and truly be gone, and he would be left with only his traumatized daughter and that flat outline in the bed next to him.

'Now she's promised to send messages and coordinates as she goes, but I know her, T3. They're going to stop coming as soon as she finds these Sith she's looking for. She thinks she has to protect us, and she won't let me try and protect her anymore.'

He rose and crossed to his nightstand, rifling for some tools and hurrying back to the droid.

'I need you to be my eyes and ears, T3. Follow her everywhere she goes, even if she says she doesn't need you or tries to leave you on the ship. Watch out for her. Record anything you think is important. I'll encode this message in case she tries to do a memory wipe on you.'

The droid hummed quietly, beeping once more.

'If...if she's in trouble, you find a way to get help. If not me, then other Jedi, the Republic- do what you can. Reprogram HK to do the same if you have to.'

He finished encoding the message, running his hand over the droid's scorched plating.

'She's strong, but she can't do this alone. I only hope she figures that out before it's too late.'

The droid beeped quietly as though he agreed.

'I can't lose her, T3,' Carth finished. 'Even if she wants to be lost.'

'Father!' He turned to see his daughter bolt out of the doorway of her room and throw her arms around him.

'Father' rung in his ears. She'd picked it up from Dustil, and no one had ever bothered to correct her, not even him. He felt stupid trying to explain to a five-year-old why he'd rather be called 'Dad' or 'Daddy'.

'There was some kind of annoying buzzing in my ears when I got off the Chaser,' Dustil said, winking at Celyn. 'I think it was some Jawa trying to talk to me, but I'm not sure. So I went to her school and found her.'

It was impossible to look at the impish smile on his daughter's face and not recognize the lines of her mouth; impossible to watch the way she burrowed into her neck when she laughed and not know who she had inherited it from.

Carth powered down T3, heading to Celyn's bedroom.

Katrina sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over Celyn. The little girl was no longer crying, but her arms were folded stubbornly in front of her, her lips curved into a tight frown.

'But why?' She whined. 'Why do you have to go?'

'Because, son, I'm a member of the Republic Fleet.' He murmured, ruffling Dustil's hair. 'It's my duty to defend it from whatever threatens it. I'm trying to protect you and your mother.'

He remembered the sigh Katrina gave now; knew that it came from exasperation or sadness, and sometimes a little of both.

'There are bad people in the galaxy, Celyn. People that want to hurt us. Do you remember what those people are called?'

'Sith.' Celyn replied automatically. Katrina nodded.

'And it's the job of the good people in the galaxy to stop them. Do you remember what the good people are called?'

'Jedi.'

'That's right.' Katrina looked away for a moment, out the windows of the station at the innumerable stars, the traffic of shuttles and ships of the Fleet.

'Sometimes the good people make mistakes and they do bad things that hurt people.'

'Why?'

'They don't know.' Katrina replied hoarsely.

He forced himself to stand in the doorway, even as most of him wanted to grasp her shoulders, remind her that she was a good person, that he loved her, that she deserved this even if she didn't believe it.

'Celyn, when good people do bad things, they feel very sorry for the things that they've done. And they want to fix it by helping people.'

'You did bad things, Mommy.' Celyn said softly.

He didn't understand the Force. Certainly didn't understand how it could make a four-year-old grasp something that had taken Katrina the length of the Star Forge mission and years beyond to realize.

'Yes, I did bad things.' Katrina whispered, and she ran her fingers through their daughter's dark brown hair.

'How was school, Jawa?'

'Good. We watched the ship come in. Dima said it was a Republic capital ship.' His daughter replied, sounding out the last few words.

Celyn pulled back from him, a frown suddenly on her face.

'Is the ship that's here your ship?' Carth shook his head.

'No, it's Admiral Dodonna's.'

'What's she doing here?' Dustil murmured.

'Routine inspection. I requested a meeting with her too.'

Carth waited until Celyn lost interest in their grown-up conversations about Admirals and meetings and wandered back into her own room.

'Anything wrong?' Dustil continued as the door shut behind the little girl.

'I feel very sorry for the bad things I did, Celyn,' Katrina finally continued. 'And I have to make up for it by helping people and stopping the Sith. Do you understand now why I have to go?'

Celyn sighed, yawning and burrowing further under the covers.

'No. You're not bad, Mommy.'

For a moment he nursed the faint hope that maybe Celyn could convince her, maybe Celyn could give her better reasons than he could for forgetting this whole thing.

But the independence and petulant temper that his daughter had were inherited from her mother, who only shook her head again.

'Not anymore. But I still have to go and fix the things I did when I was bad.'

'Promise to come back.' Celyn demanded.

Katrina frowned.

'Go to sleep now.'

'Mommy-' There was an iciness unbecoming of a child in his daughter's tone. 'Promise to come back.'

'I promise...that I won't ever let anything bad happen to you, Father, or Dustil.'

In a child's mind the two promises seemed to mean the same thing, and Celyn yawned again, dropping back into sleep.

Katrina rose, stopping short as she noticed him standing in the doorway.

He put his hand around her shoulder as she walked past him and back towards their bedroom. He traced the lines of long-incurred scars down her back and neck; lines his fingers had memorized.

'I wish I could promise you that I'm coming back. I wish I could promise her that I'll be here whenever she needs me.' Her words were sudden, abrupt, jarring. They hit him like a blaster shot to the stomach.

Or, more appropriately, to the heart.

'You will be if you call off this whole plan and stay here.'

She slipped out from under his arm, frowning.

'Don't make this harder-'

'You're the one making it difficult on yourself.'

'You didn't happen to meet with the Council when you were on Coruscant, did you? The real Council, I mean.' Carth added, smirking at the sudden redness in his son's cheeks.

'Not directly, no. Talked with Master Jolee about not getting kicked out of the Order.'

At long as Jolee Bindo's on that Jedi Council, there's going to be an influx of Jedi marriages, Carth thought, rolling his eyes.

'So you haven't heard-'

'No,' Dustil said, glancing up at him. 'Is that what you met with Dodonna about?' He nodded.

'This whole thing is because of what you think you owe to the galaxy,' Carth continued, watching Katrina pace slowly back and forth. 'You don't owe them anything, Revan. You made it all up when you turned back, when you killed Malak-'

'I didn't turn back,' She snapped. 'I couldn't even remember falling. How could I have turned back from anything? And Malak-'

Katrina trailed off, exasperated and idly pulling on her earlobe for a moment.

'Look, I don't expect you to understand-'

'Make me understand.' He interrupted. 'Because you're not going anywhere otherwise.'

Katrina folded her arms in front of her, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

'Oh really?'

'I've got an entire fleet at my disposal, beautiful. If I want to keep you from going, all I have to do is say the word.'

He was amazed at how threatening she could look even when clad in a short nightgown, her hair sleep tousled and without a weapon in her hands. He had a vague feeling that he should want to kiss her instead of wondering where his blaster was in case he needed it. Regardless, Carth stood his ground under her icy glare.

'I've told you what kinds of tactics were being used behind the scenes in the wars. The conversion of Jedi. Changing their memories, manipulating their feelings, giving them doubts and making them turn. You know where I learned them from?'

She paused, giving him a disgusted look.

'Or are you still pretending that I'm not the one that did all these things? That I'm not the one that started the Jedi Civil War? I brought ancient methods of betraying and converting the Jedi back to the galaxy, Carth. I single handedly began the extermination of the Order I belong to. These tactics hurt...very few Jedi turn away from them. Ask Dustil; he experienced them first hand. So don't try and tell me that I don't owe them anything.'

'She's alive, Father,' His son murmured.

'How do you know?' Dustil shrugged, ambling around the room, inspecting items on tables and shelves that Carth knew he had seen a hundred times over.

'Bastila Shan and whatever bond they have can feel it. I can feel it. I'm sure Celyn can feel it too.'

'Well, I can't.' He muttered. 'And I'm going to do something about it.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Following through on my plans.' Dustil sighed exasperatedly behind him.

'What plans?'

'I'm going after her.'

He felt his son's frown on his back as he crossed to his desk, idly shuffling through datapads and belongings, picking up his blaster and looking it over carefully.

'Revan? You don't even know where she is.'

'I have the coordinates her last message came from, plus the signal from the homing device up until she found it. I helped her buy that damn ship she's in and I know it like the back of my hand. It might not be easy, but I'll find her.'

'You're just going to leave the Fleet?' Carth turned, raising an eyebrow at him.

There was a sudden tension in the room, taut and sensitive to mentions of the Fleet, mentions of leaving.

'You're just going to leave Celyn?' His son added defensively.

'You'll watch her.'

'Oh I will, will I?'

'She's your sister, young man,' Carth snapped, taking his hat off and tossing it across his desk. 'If I ask you to watch her, you'll watch her, got it?'

'She's your daughter, Father. But I guess leaving your children never was a big deal to you, was it?'

The tension snapped, leaving a resounding silence and a sudden bottomless canyon between where he stood on one side of the room and where Dustil stood on the other.

I thought he forgave me. I thought all that was forgotten.

He heard Dustil sigh, and he realized that some things were never forgiven or forgotten.

'And what's going to happen if you don't come back, huh?' His son's voice was calmer, probably the result of his Jedi training kicking in. 'Am I supposed to raise her too? What the hell am I supposed to tell her, Father, if both you and Revan die out there?'

'Why isn't this enough?' Carth replied, trying to keep the rising volume of his voice under control, aware that Celyn was asleep a few meters away. 'Why does your self-ordained redemption have to involve running off on your own to fight some threat you know nothing about? You're a great Jedi. Everywhere you go you help people. You brought Bastila back from the dark side. You saved Dustil- hell, you turned him into a half-way decent Jedi Knight too.'

He grasped her tightened elbows.

'Before you came along, I was planning on living out the rest of my days with the Republic, chasing Saul and eventually dying in battle somewhere.'

'But...look around me...I'm an Admiral in the Fleet, Telos is practically rebuilt, I have my son back, I'm married again and I have a daughter. And I sure as hell didn't bring any of that about. It was all you.'

'Isn't this enough, gorgeous? I'm happy...aren't you?'

For a moment, he'd thought he'd won. Katrina let his hands move around her waist, let him pull her closer to him.

But he hadn't. She stopped him before he could kiss her.

'I have to stop this. I started it; it's my responsibility.' Carth sighed heavily.

'Then don't be stupid, Revan. We'll send the Fleet; scouts, Bothan spies, whatever's necessary. Take other Jedi with you. You don't have to do this alone-'

'It's not fair to put them in danger-'

'Everyone's going to be in danger if you can't stop them anyways-'

'No. There's only one way this is going to work, and it's if I finish what I started as a Sith. I contacted them, and I was planning on meeting with them. I have to go to that meeting alone, just like I was planning.'

Words like 'alone' and 'Sith' frightened him more than any others, and he was suddenly desperate and panicked.

'You don't have to do this,' Carth repeated. 'Celyn's not going to think any less of you. No one is-'

'I will.' Katrina snapped, and he knew that the argument (this round, anyways) had ended, that it was time to go back to bed.

He followed her wordlessly into their bedroom, back into bed and under the covers. She moved herself away from him, towards the edge of the bed, and he curled up on the opposite side, glancing at T3 in the corner.

The minute those messages stop, he swore, I'm coming after you, gorgeous. And I'm going to save you.

Even if it's from yourself.

Carth reached up to unhook the collar of his uniform, suddenly stiff and confining.

'If I stay, Dustil, if I don't go help her...' He sighed in frustration.

'What are you supposed to tell her? How about you tell me this, Dustil: what am I supposed to tell Celyn when she starts asking me why her mother had to die alone out in the Unknown Regions? What am I supposed to say when she asks me why I couldn't help her or at least try?'

He hesitated under Dustil's skeptical gaze. Carth took another deep breath, his voice low.

'Forget me leaving you. What would you have thought of me if, instead of crawling through the burning rubble on my hands and knees and screaming for a medic until I lost my voice, I had just left Morgana to die?'

Dustil's eyes were suddenly different, and Carth couldn't help but remember when he had seen that look on his son's face before.

On Korriban. He was looking at me just like that, and if we hadn't managed to calm him down...

Carth was a solider, and he had seen that hard look in the eyes of a thousand enemies. He knew what it meant.

'Right,' He murmured nervously. 'So I'm going after her. I'm not going to give both my children reasons to hate me.'

Dustil sighed, running a hand through his hair.

'I don't hate you, Father-' He muttered.

'But you did. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life.'

He idly moved things around on his desk, grateful for noise to counteract Dustil's contemplative silence.

'I still can't watch her.' His son finally said.

'And why the hell not?'

'Because I'm going with you.'

To the Unknown Regions? To face a threat that might be larger than the galaxy itself and Sith that can touch you in ways they can't touch me because you're Force sensitive? Hell no, son.

Carth groaned, holding out a hand in protest.

'Dustil-'

'Father, you're dealing with Sith,' Dustil began in what Carth was beginning to dub his 'Future Jedi Academy Headmaster' tone. 'You need a Jedi with you if you're hoping to actually accomplish something and not get killed. If you think I'm going to let you run off by yourself just like she did, you've got another thing coming.'

There's going to be Jedi with me. I know which ones to call.

'I wasn't going to go alone,' He replied defensively. 'It's also an intelligence gathering mission for the Republic. We need know exactly what this threat might mean to all the non-Force users in the galaxy.'

'Good. Then you won't mind if I come along.'

'Come on, Dustil. Meet me halfway on this thing-'

'I don't go halfway on anything, Father. Sound familiar?'