#master oteg

They were now the only survivors of their battlegroup; what had effectively become the rear guard covering the Order’s final evacuation from Tython. They had both felt the others fall, one by one, until they had reached this point.

And they’d just run out of room to run.

The forces of the Eternal Empire were taking no prisoners. They had laid waste to first to Tython’s defenses, then to the temple and now to everything in their path.

It was possible in this moment that Bengel and Nalen were the last two Jedi alive on Tython.

Dozens if not hundreds of Jedi and Republic soldiers had met the Force this day, demonstrating incredible courage every step of the way. They’d known rebuffing the attack was futile, of course, but they could still ensure the future of the Order. Even as the defenders had abandoned the temple, they had successfully drawn the Eternal Empire’s forces away from the main evacuation points. Despite the overwhelming odds, the Jedi had been able to extract most of their number from the planet in good order. But the small battlegroups of guardians and defenders who had screened them – including Bengel and Nalen’s – had paid a staggering price.

They’d been preparing for this day for months. The Zakuulan invasion had stormed into the Republic unchecked, despite countless sacrifices by the Jedi and the Republic military just to slow it down. A few weeks before, Satele Shan, the Grandmaster of the Order and one of the few members of the council still alive, had gone missing during a mission to cut behind the Eternal Empire’s lines. Some who knew her were convinced that she was still alive – that they hadn’t felt her death through the Force – but regardless of the truth of the matter, her absence had finally signaled to everyone that the war was lost.  

Nalen didn’t know the details, but he knew the Jedi weren’t retreating to another Republic world, one where they’d only draw more attacks from Zakuul. Enough people had already died protecting them. Gnost-Dural, the Order’s greatest historian, had claimed he’d found a place for them to withdraw and recover, as they’d withdrawn to Tython nearly twenty years earlier after the Sack of Coruscant.

Now, amidst the Ruins of Kaleth, south of where the Jedi Temple had once stood, Nalen and Bengel were making their final stand.

As Bengel finished wrapping Nalen’s wound, the Twi’lek couldn’t help but appreciate the Nautolan’s gentle kindness. The feelings were in stark contrast to his reaction to meeting Bengel Morr years earlier.

Nalen distinctly remembered hating him. Hating him for directing the Flesh Raiders against not only the Jedi, but against the Twi’leks of Kalikori Village, his people, as well.

He felt no small amount of shame for that hatred, as well as the shame for the actions he himself had taken in those dark days.

In the years since then, Nalen had seen Bengel turn into the kind of Jedi he was always meant to be. Kind, compassionate, always willing to sacrifice of himself for others.

Proving that the Force moved in mysterious ways, it had been Bengel who had aided Nalen the most in acclimating to the ways of the Jedi.

Nalen himself had been old for a padawan, and his experiences with the holocron of Rajivari had left him in an incredibly dark place.

He could admit now that he’d needed Bengel’s support.

In the years since, they’d effectively become partners, ever since Nalen’s Knighting.          

Two years earlier, they’d both been absent on a reconnaissance expedition into the Flesh Raider territory in the Tythonian highlands when the forces of the Sith Empire – led by the infamous Darth Nox – had attacked Tython and briefly seized control of the temple. By the time their group had made it back, it was all over. The Jedi had regained their home and driven off the Imperials, but the losses had been high. It had been all they could do to aid in recovery efforts, helping the wounded… and counting the dead.

Both Nalen and Bengel had vowed that day to never allow such a thing to happen again.

Now the temple had fallen once again, this time literally. But if the bulk of the Jedi could escape, they’d make good on the promise made that day.

It would all be worth it.

Bengel lifted his head up as he finished patching up Nalen’s arm.

“The firing stopped.”

Nalen blinked, absent-mindedly checking his arm. He realized his companion was right; the whole valley seemed to have gone quiet. He heard only the crinkling of distant fire, and his own heavy breathing.  

The Nautolan cautiously risked a peek over the wall.

“They’re getting into position.” He reported, ducking back and sitting beside Nalen. “Skytroopers, Knights of Zakuul and Walkers. They know we’re here.”

Nalen simply nodded his head sharply, checking his lightsaber.

“How many?”

Bengel turned towards Nalen. Nautolans had a somewhat unfair reputation for frequently smiling with unnerving grins, even at questionably inappropriate times. Bengel’s smile usually wasn’t like that. It was slight, but sincere and kind. Just like Bengel himself was.

Nalen had often found comfort in that smile.

But today – in this moment – Bengel Morr gave Nalen the grimmest, toothiest smile Nalen had ever seen, teeth and all.

“All of them, I think.”

Nalen looked down and chuckled. He didn’t know what kind of answer he’d expected, but he took comfort in the fact that Bengel could still joke at a time like this.

Before he could respond, the Twi’lek’s holo-communicator beeped.

Reluctantly, Nalen pulled it out and activated it.

A small projection appeared of Master Ulannium Kaarz, Barsen’thor of the Order and one of the few remaining members of the council. The man who had once foiled Nalen’s misguided efforts to destroy the Jedi back when he’d been under the dark side’s thrall.

The Mirialan had grown since Nalen had first met him all those years before, when Ulannium had just been a padawan and Nalen had been Kalikori Village’s premier defender, revered by his people as a hero. His passion to protect the villagers had led him down a dark path; one that Ulannium in his mercy and wisdom had saved him from.

Ulannium had already been considered wise beyond his years even then. Since those days, he’d emerged as the finest Jedi Master of his generation, the youngest Jedi to sit on the council in centuries. Physically, his build was still rather slight, but he now stood tall as a Gen’Dai.

As was the case with Bengel, Nalen couldn’t begin to express how much he owed to the Jedi Master. Bengel might have aided him down this path, but it had been Ulannium who had started him on it.

“Master Ulannium.” Nalen dipped his head in a heartfelt greeting.

Ulannium had told him more than once that he could call him by his given name. He’d never taken him up on that offer.

“Nalen. The last transport is away.” Ulannium grimly reported. His voice was unfailingly calm, despite the obvious urgence of the situation. “Master Oteg led the remnants of the First Expeditionary Fleet in a last-ditch attack on the Eternal Fleet ships in orbit. It worked. They sacrificed themselves to give us a window to escape. We’re jumping to hyperspace in just a few minutes.”

Nalen exhaled in relief, and he noted the reassured look on Bengel’s face as well. Like Ulannium and Gnost-Dural, Oteg had served as a respected member of the Jedi Council these last few years, but no one had ever forgotten that he was first and foremost an admiral of the Republic fleet.

The Jedi Master’s sacrifice this day had proven that beyond all doubt.

“Good.” He swallowed. “Then it was all for something.”

Ulannium nodded and pressed on. Business as usual. For all his tone, he might have been discussing an archaeological expedition.

“You’ll also be relieved to know there’s no sign that the Zakuulans are moving against Kalikori Village.”

Nalen exhaled again. He’d refused to admit it aloud to his fellow Jedi, but his greatest worry all this time had been that the Eternal Empire would turn and wreck the same destruction upon the people he had protected as they had the Jedi.

“The fleet is almost ready. We haven’t been able to hail the other battle groups.” He didn’t need to express what that meant. “What’s the status of your team?”

The Twi’lek had expected this question. His answer was at the ready.

“Bengel and I are the only ones left, Master Ulannium.”

The Mirialan’s face turned grim.

“There might still be time.” He offered. Nalen appreciated the sentiment, even it was no more than a pipe dream at this point. “Can the two of you reach one of the extraction points?”

He knew the answer to this question as well, but he still hesitated, looking over towards his more experienced partner.

Bengel simply gave Nalen a slight shake of his head.

There was no sadness or despair in the Nautolan’s features; a trace of regret, perhaps, but there was also a resolve and acceptance. Whatever nightmares had plagued Bengel years ago when they’d first met, whatever had made him take control of the Flesh Raiders and to threaten Nalen’s people… Bengel was an entirely different man, today. He was still haunted by his own actions during those dark days, but he was determined to make up for them.  

That resolve filled Nalen with admiration and strengthened his own determination as he turned back to the projection of Ulannium.

“No.” he finally answered. “Don’t worry about us, Master Ulannium. Save the Jedi. Save our people. And…. thank you. Thank you for showing me a better path. Thank you for this chance. Thank you for everything.”

Nalen swallowed.

“It has been an honor.”

Through the holo-display, the Barsen'thor’s tired eyes softened.

“It’s been my honor to have known you, Nalen.” For a fleeting moment, Ulannium looked more like the young Jedi whom Nalen had met all those years ago, with a bright, limitless future ahead of him. “Thank you. May the Force be with you.”

The projection flickered then deactivated, leaving the Jedi alone.

Our people. Nalen had called the Order that for the first time today. If he’d felt like an outsider all these years, then now, in this moment at least, he was a Jedi.

He turned towards his companion. The Nautolan was gazing off into the distance.

“I saw the best Jedi of my generation fall to the Sith on Coruscant.” Bengel’s voice was sad, but clear. “Then I saw them try to do it again here on Tython two years ago.”

He turned towards Nalen, meeting his gaze.

“The Jedi will survive this day.” His confidence was infectious. “For my own part, as I see it, I’ve been living on borrowed time.”

Part of Nalen recognized that he felt the same. He padded Bengel’s knee affectionately, then rose, careful to keep his head down beneath the wall’s edge. Bengel followed suit a second later.

As Nalen gathered himself, he regarded Bengel, even now poised to leap out over the wall and give a final accounting of himself. Nautolans, as a species, preferred aquatic environments, he knew. Yet here, far from any body of water, Bengel was poised like a Nexu; grace and agility ready to explode with power.

For such a moment, Nalen felt he had to say something to express how he felt.

“Bengel… I just had a crazy idea.”

Seamlessly, Bengel turned back to Nalen questioningly. The Twi’lek found his courage and pressed on.

“When this is all over, would you like to join me at the cantina for a drink?”

Bengel’s dark eyes regarded Nalen, vacant for a moment.

The cantina – along with most of the Jedi temple – had been buried beneath tons of rubble hours before during the earlier attack.

The corners of Bengel’s lips turned upward in one of his kind smiles. It was full of warmth and made Nalen’s stomach turn over.

“I would like that.”

The Nautolan now reached out and offered Nalen his hand.

“You ready?”

Nalen smiled back. In this moment, he felt free. He reached out and grasped Bengel’s hand, squeezing it in his grip. This simple gesture communicating more than words ever could.

“I’m ready.”

He only wished they’d had more time.

But they had this moment. And that was something.

Moving in unison, the two Jedi leapt over the wall.

END

Author’s Notes: I don’t know how many of you have seen the movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It’s a fine film, even if it is mostly dated fiction. This story was largely inspired by the final scene of that film. The emotional connection between the two protagonists – romantic or not – left an impression.

Bengel’s little joke is a Terminator 2 reference. (I don’t know how many of you are old enough to catch that one, either.) The stereotype about Nautolans is a Kit Fisto reference.

I regret not writing much about Ulannium until now. I chose this as my next piece in part to resolve that.

We never hear about what happens to Nalen Raloch after Tython, albeit we do see Bengel on Corellia. Both characters deserved a proper follow up, as do Oteg, who we meet on the Republic side during the two “rescue Revan” Flashpoints.

Ako Domi is the Jedi who was imprisoned on Nar Shaddaa in Shadow Town by the Sith Empire and turned to the dark side. Republic players have a chance to either rescue (and redeem) him, or to execute him. If you spare him, you get a letter from Satele thanking you, and informing the player that he was recovering. We never hear a follow-up after this, but I like to think that he met his end as a Jedi. The idea of a group of Jedi who had each experienced turns under the dark side and were now serving as the Order’s final defense was a compelling idea for me.

Tagging @taraum​ @kyber-heart​ and @grandninjamasterren​ who all expressed interest in this premise in a post I put on Tumblr ages ago.

“You are so much stronger than me, and you returned from the dark side. I too can do the same, with your guidance, Master Revan…”

“Maybe you’re smarter than I thought, taking advice from an old man like me…been a long while since I came back home…Don’t make my mistakes, young’un.”

“Kinda nice place, reminds me of Telos, of home…Y’know, you’re the first real friend I’ve had that cared about what happened to Morgana and Dustil…”

“Check it out, Big Z! This place is pretty cool…Let’s go up there! C’mon, Zaalbar, let’s go explore! You can eat later!”

“Arrrghh, rrraagh rrrrrh!” *

“Heh, never thought I’d get a taste for the quiet life, and yet, here we are…aliit ori'shya tal'din, Jetii.” **

”I…know you can’t possibly forgive us for what we’ve done to you…and I won’t make excuses for it. But I’m glad you’re back. I really am…”

“Master Revan Shan.” He blinked, shaking his head free of the voices, long, long dead and gone, and found himself staring down at a very, very familiar face…and he swallowed. This Master Oteg…he could have been a dead ringer for Master Vandar, but Vandar Tokare was dead, betrayed on a far away planet long ago, and a sudden surge of homesickness and sorrow flooded Revan’s heart and mind…And the kindness he felt through the Force, through Oteg’s aura, undid him completely. It pushed away the darkness he felt in his very soul, and he reached for it, for the Master before him.

He collapsed though, tears streaming down his face, and for as small as the older Master was, now Revan was the pupil before him, prostrate with grief and longing. The elfin creature, his wrinkles marking his age, his green eyes soft, laid a gentle, clawed hand on his shoulder and drew him close, comforting the broken man as though he were his own Padawan. “Oh my boy…for all that you’ve a century on me, you’ve been so lost…” He wept, unashamed, three long centuries of death and despair and Vitiate’s claws in his mind, and Revan clung to Oteg through the storm of emotions, until the winds finally faded.

“How…how did you know my surname? No one knew I took Bastila’s name…she wanted it that way, and I didn’t dare risk our babe…All I had of her was the dreams and our dyad, our bond…and even then, I couldn’t look too hard, for fear of him…” He whispered when the sobs eased, when he managed to speak again, his voice hoarse and aching, and Oteg hummed, patting his hair with a gentleness that Revan didn’t feel he deserved…but he accepted it gladly, desperate for any sort of contact. It was a parent’s touch, and he closed his eyes, leaning into it.

“Bastila told me. Well…not in person. Not the way she wanted to. But she did tell me about you…and her love for you.” Revan’s heart ached at that, but he eased back, rubbing the tears off his face and taking a long, deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. “As for the rest…I know what was done to you. What you lost in memory, and in your life. Very many do know the basic facts…and the rest, much like many other legends deep in the galaxy, have myths to lean heavily on. But we in the Jedi, and even a bare handful of Sith, know the truth of who and what you were after the Masters erased your memory…but we don’t know who you were before that. Much…was lost, both accidentally and otherwise.” Revan nodded, lips twisting a little with anger.

“…I have a few memories. Vitiate…well, I won’t say he kept me sane, because he…nothing that was done in that hellish fortress was sane. But there was one Sith, a pureblood, who had no name as we know it, but he knew me. He knew me very well, and he knew how to retrieve memories, even those thought to be erased…and in return for my aid in influencing Vitiate’s mind, he helped me retain my sanity…and regain some of my loss. Not all of it…I don’t know my old name, nor my birthplace, or even my true age. I don’t have a birthday…but I have the memories of the Star Forge, how I got it rebuilt, how I used it…and how I fell.”

“And you have Bastila.” Revan closed his eyes at that, tears burning under his eyelids, and oh, he had Bastila…those memories, the dreams he’d watched over her in, with Scourge’s help, he’d kept from Vitiate, kept everything from the monster in regards to his son, to his heart, to his friends…Carth had lived on, Mission and Zaalbar had survived. Juhani, Canderous, Jolee…Even HK had survived. Teethree…He ached at the loss of the little droid, that night he lost Meetra too, and a touch of the Force soothed his grief, Meetra’s ghost giving him that one last lingering gift yet still.

“…My friends and my love. But…They are gone now, long gone. What can the Council ask of me now? I’m a broken husk of what I once was…” He murmured, meeting Oteg’s eyes once more, though tears still burned down his cheeks, his scars aching as much as his heart. Oteg only smiled, and with a gesture of the Force, brought over a set of tea cups, and a kettle, still steaming from the range nearby.

“For now, they ask me to heal you, as much as you can bear; of heart-wounds as much as the Force-depletion and literal physical wounds you’ve endured too. And they ask you to rest; even with hyperdrives, it’s a long, long way back to Tython.”

“…Not Coruscant?”

“No. For one, the Jedi Temple is still in ruin there, from the war, and for another, I will not allow the Senate to inflict itself on you. Tython is not Dantooine, and sadly we’ve not rebuilt the enclave on Dantooine for many reasons…but it is largely safe, and the Order is many, many more Jedi strong now. There is darkness there…but I trust you. As does the Grandmaster and the rest of the Council.” He blinked at that, and when Oteg offered him the fragrant tea, thankfully not from Dantooine, Revan managed to even sip it a little, rolling the strange, interesting spices on his tongue. It wasn’t the same…but different wasn’t bad, either.

“…I appreciate that. I truly do. For now…the rest…it is very deeply needed. I hope…perhaps I may be allowed to lay out a bedroll here? The vines…remind me of home.” He swallowed the rest of his statement, and Oteg smiled, broadly now.

“I don’t mind in the slightest, but I have a spare bedroom too, with the vines inside as well. You’re welcome to rest there as long as you need to. Dantooine was under my watch for many years, and I grew these vines for much the same reason Bastila did; for the comfort they brought me. The tea is a healing herb from Tython, with a bit of root from my favorite spot on Alderaan to gather flowers and other plants, and will help settle your stomach to handle food that’s more solid than an intravenous line.”

“…Thank you. I suspected I’d be on mush for a while.” Oteg chuckled at Revan’s wryness, and Revan’s lips quirked up, just a little, before he sipped his tea again. The Master shifted away and began puttering about the place, and Revan settled back against the cushions of a rounded lounge seat, tilting his head back and just…breathing. Closing his eyes, with the breeze off the vents, he could just about pretend he was back on the Khoonda Plain, out under the biryan trees, his crew dozing all around him. Canderous snoring, Carth humming softly, Bastila’s soft breathing, her hand just touching his…Jolee’s quiet reading, turning page after page of a well-worn book.

Zaalbar grooming his fur, making the soft little Wookiee noises that one might chitter at a cub, while Mission dozed against Carth’s side with Zaalbar at her back, curled up and breathing so lightly that you couldn’t hear her hardly at all. Juhani practicing her Force manipulation by healing the very earth around her, in apology to her last master and the darkness she’d sought there, and of course, the distant sounds of blaster fire as HK and Teethree hunted for dinner. And Revan, in the center of it all, soaking up the sunshine like a flower that had been buried for far too long, his heart full of light and love, the darkness banished…Another tear slipped over his cheek, and he let it fall, let them all fall, as he gave into the slumber carrying him off into his memories once more.

I love you all so much…I miss you…

A week solid of rest, good food, and healing had brought Revan back to the living nearly completely, and he ignored the hollow ache in his very soul as he stepped off the shuttle onto the first planet he’d seen in three centuries. The Force healing had done wonders for his connection to the ancient power, and already, he could feel the shades of light and dark in the Force on Tython, just as Master Oteg had said. The Rakatans weren’t wrong…I wonder how much of the past the Jedi really know? Because the Rakata Elders had known so, so much…even with as much as was lost, they told me everything…

“Master Revan.” He paused, his mask now hidden behind his breastplate, his hood drawn back despite how it made him feel too visible…and looked up at the man standing before him, a human male with a simple cut to his brown hair and deep lines from what looked to be a near constant frown. He sensed annoyance, no little anger, and a certain amount of frustration at having to greet this particular guest, and Revan smiled, just a little, though there was no humor in it. Let him be angry; he’s not half the fighter I am, for all that I’ve been in stasis for so long, and he damn well knows it.

His lightsabers, saved by Scourge long ago, had been battered and broken, but Oteg had been kind enough to provide him with the tools and crystals to restore them…and Revan had them now on each hip, a purple one…and a red one. He’d hesitated over that crystal for a moment, feeling the weakness in the green, blue, and yellow ones…and finally, he closed his hand around the gem…and felt the Force hurtle through him, tasting the power on his tongue. Perhaps it is too much of a temptation… He hadn’t gotten this far by taking the easy path, though, and he was more than strong enough to handle that power.

Oteg…hadn’t commented on that. Revan found that he was grateful for it. This man, though…Revan bowed, slightly, keeping his attitude to himself for the time being, and opting for aloof and mysterious. There was a darkness here that seeped into the very heart of the Temple; he could sense it, though it was far older than Vitiate, far baser and weaker…but it had survived much in the many, many millennia since the Jedi had left. The ruins at Kaleth are what Oteg warned me about; someone’s been poking where they shouldn’t.

“I am. And you are, Master…?” His tone was perfectly polite, crisp and just a touch of that ‘Alderaanian noble’ air, which had the exact effect Revan intended. He’d had it for years before his fall, and rebuilt it with Carth’s help during their fight against Malek, and after; it served him in good stead now. The man straightened, anger flashing in his blue eyes, and his lips twisted before he spoke again, his voice acidic enough that Revan smiled even more. Bingo. Little prick makes me miss HK all the more. What I wouldn't give for a classic "Meatbags." comment right now.

“Master Jaric Kaedan. This way, if you so please.” He whirled and stomped off, and Revan followed along behind him, his ancient styled robes billowing in a way that seemed to startle the Jedi they passed. Master Kaedan kept a brisk pace, but looked unnerved when he glanced back to find Revan keeping pace with him, hands tucked in a hidden set of pockets, his footfalls just as silent as before on the ship, and Revan’s smirk only grew. Brat. If only he knew the truth…but then, I’ve fallen, and I’m wearing the shadows of what I once was. I suppose I can forgive his anger.

The Padawans and trainees they passed didn’t know what to think of the scarred man in long, tattered black robes; he’d been given the option of clean, more neutral ones from Oteg, but he’d only cleaned his old ones, and pulled them back on, taking comfort in the Star Forge’s armor. Pity my white robes are long gone, because they would have been far better for this, but I don’t want to lose myself yet again, this time in the Jedi once more.

The great room with the enormous Force-driven rotating holocron in the middle was oddly calming, and had Revan a minute to spare, he would have lost himself in watching it, drinking in the healing calmness of the Force that radiated from the enormous dodecahedron. But Kaedan was too fast, and Revan bit back his annoyance, following the impatient man to the Council doors. There, he opened the smaller entrance door, ushering Revan inside…and for the first time in a long time, Revan stopped dead, his mind reeling at the sheer power contained in the room. Oteg really meant it…Atris had betrayed the Jedi, evil bitch that she was, she decimated us…but this…

Hope swelled in his heart, for the first time in…well, centuries, and Revan eagerly stepped forward, feeling his fear and anger melt away, joy making a smile touch his lips as he made his way to the Masters lined up before him…

SLAP.

The blow struck him perfectly from the handsome woman who stepped up to him, her long braids still swinging from the gesture, blue-gray eyes furious, and Revan brought a gloved hand up to his jaw, moving the joint to make sure it wasn’t broken. He studied her, eyes wide, shock freezing him in place, and he swallowed, a sinking feeling in his gut now.

“…You…look awfully familia-”

SLAP. The second slap had a stinging burst of power behind it, and it knocked Revan off his feet, tossing him back with an ease that made his heart absolutely drop into his boots…and he gazed up at his descendant with a gulp, shrinking a little under the gaze all Shan women perfected long before they reached adulthood. He could see where time and DNA had changed the look of her, but those eyes, those eyes were all Bastila’s legacy, and Revan felt another pang for the woman he’d loved so much, and the son he’d never known.

“…Shit.”

“You selfish son of a bitch, you’re damn right I look familiar. I am Grandmaster Satele Shan, of the Jedi Order. And on behalf of my great-grandmother, I deliver this message.” She snarled out, eyes flashing, all sense of calm lost in a sea of anger…and she held up a holocron…no, a Noetikon. A Noetikon that Revan hadn't ever seen before...but he could feel the power stored within it deep in his very soul. Revan’s eyes widened as a figure appeared, all in the soft blue of the hologram…but he knew that face, that body, those eyes anywhere.

“…Bastila?” He whispered, and she gazed down at him, her expression a mixture of sorrow and anger…and reached out a hand to him. He couldn’t take it, knew he couldn’t feel anything…but he reached for her too, his whole being yearning for her.

“Revan…” She murmured, and he choked on a sob, fingers closing on air and light, fighting to keep his composure before all these strangers. Oteg had been safe, had known many of the surviving masters, had even been mentored by Jolee…and he’d known Revan’s true self. These people didn’t. “…you know, I had a whole rant saved up, after all this time, how you abandoned us, how you left me without an explaination, how you were so damned selfish…”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I was selfish, I was a selfish bastard, and I deserve everything that I’ve been punished with…but I didn’t want to see you suffer more, and I couldn’t trust the Council…I couldn’t trust anyone but Carth, Jolee, and Juhani to keep you and Vaner safe…and I needed the others to keep each other safe, as best they could, and live the lives they deserved. Atris…I saw what she was becoming…”

“I know.” It was so simple, so poignant a sentence, and he froze, heart in his throat, eyes wide. “In uploading my consciousness to this Noetikon, enough to reason and think, I was also able to listen, to learn…and to understand. I’m still angry with you…but I love you enough to forgive you. You knew just how powerful Vitiate was…even if you didn’t remember entirely, you knew he was coming back. You knew…and you fought back the best way you knew how, but you had us to protect…and you were right. I was in no shape to fight alongside you, and neither was Jolee in his old age. Juhani and Carth gladly would have, and could, but…you were right again there.

“Had they left us, Jolee and I would have been found. Vaner…our little boy, he would have died…But he built a family of his own, and they continued that proud tradition, defying the Order in the one way that mattered to all of us…we chose love. I never regretted that…I never regretted you. I still don’t.” He drank in that forgiveness, those words, and laughed, aching, but real, blessedly real, when she chuckled a little. “I’m still mad, but I got over it pretty well, I think. Our children’s children, however, you’ll have to earn their forgiveness.”

“I…suspected as much. Bastila…I know this isn’t the same as a Force Ghost, nor are you entirely you, as you were…but I love you. I love you, and I am sorry…and I hope, I hope that matters at least a little.” The hologram smiled, soft and sweet…and winked out, leaving Revan to blink up at his descendant, confused and heartbroken…when a soft, ethereal voice filled the room, and it was Satele’s turn, along with the other Council members, to go wide-eyed in shock as they started at something behind him. Revan breathed in the scent of vilian flowers and a touch of leather, his heart leaping now as he slowly stood, turned…and there she was, not the older woman in the hologram, mature and long into her life…

“It always mattered.”

But his Bastila. His beautiful wife, her ponytails a little messy, her old robes shabby from sparring and exploring, her smile blinding in its joy. She was a ghost, that much was certain; the glow made it obvious, and though she had color in her skin and hair now, her clothes were a pale gray…he knew from experience that a ghost could only project so much. But when he wrapped his arms around her, she was firm to the touch, her curves fitting perfectly against his angles, and he buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her with a shaky breath.

“Revan…”

“Bastila…”

“I can’t hold this for long…but the power here is enough to give us this.” She whispered, and he brought his head back up, pressing his forehead to hers, hugging her tight.

“It’s enough. It’s enough for me, to see you, hold you…” He murmured back, and they clung to one another. He augmented his power into hers, willing her to stay, just a little longer, and she relaxed in his arms…And it was Master Oteg, wise, good Master Oteg, who ushered the rest out of the Council chambers, letting Revan guide his beloved back to a small loveseat at the rear of the chamber, the two of them curling up together. They spoke of their son, a lifetime of memories that Revan had seen only in her dreams, of their grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, of Tasiele and Satele, and Theron, Satele’s SIS agent son.

Time became meaningless once more for Revan, for Bastila, for both of them, and when words began to fail them…they simply let their hearts say the rest, slow kisses and touches bleeding into one another. But their time was growing short…Revan could feel her slipping back into the Force, feel her strength waning…and when she gazed up at him, the color draining away, her eyes growing sad and weary…Revan kissed her, soft and sweet and lingering.

“It’s alright, love…”

“I have missed you so much…it’s too cruel that we only get this…” She murmured, and he tucked her under his chin, wrapping around her the way she wrapped around his waist and chest, hugging her tightly as he could.

“It is too cruel…but we were never graced with much luck, were we, my heart…” He whispered back, his voice hoarse from the long hours of talking, and the tears.

“…No, we never were. But we had one another…” He smiled at that, and she glanced up, smiling back. Revan touched his forehead to hers again, and Bastila sighed a little, fingers tightening in his robes, his chestplate and back armor long banished to the floor. “I love you, Revan…”

“I love you too, Bastila. It’s alright…you can let go…I’ll follow you soon. I promise. I…there isn’t much of me left, despite what they’ve done to heal me…” He whispered, and she opened her eyes, those gray irises just as captivating as the day they’d met on his flagship, all those long years ago…and when they met again, him fresh off the swoopbike and her fresh out of a fight, the two of them angry and a little in love already.

“…I’ll be here for you. Always.” She murmured, resting one hand on his heart…and with a sigh, she became nothing once again, the warmth of her hand lingering still over his heart, the touch of her lips still on his…and the scent of vilian flowers filling the air. He stared into space for a long, long time…and when he rose again, he buckled on his armor in silence, and with a gesture, opened the doors to allow the other Jedi to come back in. But before he turned…he took out his mask, and stared down at it.

The long lines of red and black, the smoky visor; he’d worn it when he went after the Emperor, after augmenting it with as much tech as he could to keep the monster from infiltrating his mind. But that hadn’t helped him when Meetra was murdered, when Teethree was cut down…and though he hated Scourge for what he’d done, he knew it was on Vitiate’s orders. And he knew too, could sense it, that the Emperor still held power, even now. …I cannot be a Jedi again. Be it my own darkness, or the taint of the Emperor’s mind, there is little of the light left inside me now…and he still lives outside the Force. His power is too much for these young Jedi to handle…But I know it well.

He knew it better than any other, Jedi or Sith, even the Emperor’s Wrath, and he knew too how he could destroy Vitiate. Forever. I suspect I know what they will ask of me…and yet, I have so much more to do. I cannot leave him to continue destroying the galaxy…But I will hear them out. I owe my Bastila, and my descendant, that much.

Revan donned the mask once more, fitting it with ease, and turned, crossing his arms as he planted his feet, his voice deepening as he spoke.