#thereturnofthecat

It didn’t take long, it never did with Carth. He hadn’t understood what the man had against him during their time on Taris, but now he knew. He had helped Revan destroy the man’s life. Amongst other atrocities.

The pilot went for the caf, footsteps hesitant. It took only a moment before he stopped what he was doing, hand hovering over the mugs in the cabinet.

“You can say something.” Alek offered, knowing the strained truce they had was already fraying at the edges. 

Carth’s hand knocked into one of the mugs, sending it tumbling onto the counter and nearly taking the caf machine with it. Alek winced at the sound, ears ringing. Carth’s shoulders were stiff, his entire posture tense like a coiled snake, ready to spring on him… or ready to run.

“Did you know?” Carth’s voice was tight, but he refused to turn and face him. It was certainly deserved. Alek had killed a lot of people alongside Revan. He knew it deep in his bones though he didn’t remember. Maybe it was easier not to. Then he wouldn’t have to feel the weight of their deaths on his conscience, to see their faces haunt his dreams.

“No.”

He wanted to elaborate, to explain that if he had known-

Alek didn’t finish the thought, his past self a complete stranger to his current one. What would he have done? Tell everyone what he was or hide it, knowing they wouldn’t trust him either way? Did it really matter? In the end, the truth was what it was, no matter what any of them thought. 

Besides, Alek was the one sitting here in the Ebon Hawk’s kitchenette, eating a dry ration bar while Revan was destroying planets and murdering Jedi. Bastila had saved him, somehow, and now she was gone, at the hands of the very woman who had created him in the first place.

Carth let out a strained breath, filling one of the mugs with caf before leaving, not glancing at him once on the way out.

That was that then. Better than another argument, he supposed.

Alek found himself sitting at a game of Sabakk with his usual partners a few hours later. At the same table, in the same seat, this time with a glass of some type of liquor in his cup. The perils and whims of the galaxy didn’t stand a chance against their game nights. 

Canderous sat opposite him, cigarra in his mouth much to the irritation of Mission. Surprisingly, the Mandalorian took care to not blow too much of the smoke in the girl’s direction, but it didn’t stop her from shooting a withering glare each time he took a puff.

“Are you trying to kill us, you son of a bantha?” She snapped, tossing a lekku over her shoulder. It was pointless because the appendage just returned to its previous state in her irritation.

“If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t need such a roundabout way to do it, kid.” Canderous muttered, picking up his stack of cards, ignoring the next scowl. 

Alek tried to ignore them, things always dissolved by the fifth round of Pazaak, especially with these two. They were always neck in neck and by the end of the game, Alek never had any credits left to his name. Not that he’d had much to start with.

“It doesn’t seem to bother anyone, but you.” Canderous continued, silver eyes aimed in Alek’s direction as if daring him to argue as well. 

Mission didn’t notice the look between the two men, and instead, threw a card next to those that waited face up on the table, claiming the entire credit pool for herself. “Read it and weep, losers! That’s three out of five for me. I’m off to count my winnings.”

Canderous grunted, extinguishing the cigarra as soon as she disappeared into the hallway. “This is embarrassing.”

Alek raised an eyebrow at him. “What is?”

“Losing to a fourteen year old. She’s young enough to be my damned granddaughter.” Canderous took his measly stack of cards before putting them back in his pocket. 

Staring at the last few cards on the table, Alek’s mind wandered as Canderous showed himself out, the last few days since Bastila had sacrificed herself for him weighing heavy on his heart. Something that he couldn’t help but feel guilty for even if it wasn’t his fault. She might’ve had her annoying quirks, but Bastila was nothing if not a Jedi at heart. She wanted to make the galaxy a better place and she still thought, despite everything that had happened, Revan could be redeemed as well. 

It was a foolish notion, but he was inspired by her willingness to see it through.

The walk back to the dormitory was silent, the rest of the ship sleeping during the night part of the cycle. His supposed redemption (and amnesia) hadn’t completely erased the darkness from his heart, but not having his memories plague him had the desired effect. He wasn’t as tempted as he would’ve been otherwise, even with the Force whispering in his ear.

To think that he’d gone to confront the Jedi on Revan’s orders, all so that Revan could kill him in the bombardment on the Endar Spire when she could have easily cut him down with a lightsaber. Bastila saved his life with the intention of saving the Republic and maybe even Revan. So many ifs about what could’ve happened. If he stayed on the ship, would Revan have killed him or would she have gone after Bastila herself? Could he have betrayed her as she did him?

He could be dead or still at Revan’s side doing the evils of the galaxy.

He didn’t know which would be worse.

When he walked past, Alek caught sight of Jolee Bindo, the old Jedi they’d found in the Kashykkk Shadowlands, in the medbay cataloging supplies and restocking the kolto supply. He hadn’t glanced up as Alek paused outside of the door, wondering if he should bother the Jedi or if he should go to sleep. Jolee made the choice for him.

“Regret is a powerful emotion. Be wary of how it controls you.”

Alek grinded his teeth together, shoving down the flair of anger he felt at the insinuation. If he didn’t have his regrets, he had nothing. “What would you know of it?”

When Jolee turned, Alek swore he saw something deep in his gaze, old wounds that still hadn’t healed. “I’m an old man. If I didn’t know regret, I wouldn’t be here now.”

Alek didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how to. 

Jolee didn’t seem to notice. “This may be presumptuous, but I’m curious. I don’t know much about you or Revan, but you were together a long time. Bonds form. You loved her, didn't you?”

Of course he would go for the throat. Jolee seemed to like asking questions that you didn’t want the answers to.

“I’m… not sure. Maybe I did, once. From what little I remember, Revan was a force to be reckoned with. She was always strong, always sure of herself. It was magnetic, but love? I don’t think it was what you think.” Alek wasn’t even sure he was capable of such an emotion.

Jolee sighed, rubbing his chin with his fingers, stroking the white hair there briefly. Thinking. “There is some relief in that, I suppose. The next time you face her, you will know what to expect.”

Alek doubted it would be that easy. “Revan is powerful. I couldn’t hold a vibroknife to her when we were Jedi. As a Sith-” He shook his head, despair curling around his heart like a vice, squeezing until he could barely breathe.

“It’s alright to feel the fear, Alek, but to let it control you, that is what you should avoid. Revan is powerful, but so are you.”

Alek scoffed. Such nonsense had no place in his head. “If I was as powerful as you believe, Revan would be the one here with you, wouldn’t she?”

Jolee hummed low in his throat, disapproval strong in the Force. “Perhaps or maybe you don’t want to be a hero. Understandable, I never wanted to be one either. The problem with that is the Force never gives you a choice.”

Alek wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. The Force had guided him this far, hadn’t it?

“What do you suggest I do? I can’t face Revan combatively, she’s always been stronger. And if Bastila had fallen to the Dark Side-” 

If. He could see the word strike a chord in Jolee and he knew, even without the bond between him and Bastila, that by now she would’ve fallen in line with Revan. They always did.

“Revan may be strong in the Force, but she has a history with you, Alek. You’ve seen glimpses of it in your dreams. Hold onto those memories. Remind Revan of who she was, just like you will do with Bastila when the time comes. You hold the power to save them.”

A lofty goal indeed. But Jolee believed in his abilities, perhaps it was time he did too. Malak was a man who believed that whatever he put his mind to, he could achieve.