The Past is Gone (But Something Might Be Found) (17156 words) by MariaLee
Chapters: 3/8
Fandom: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Carth Onasi/Revan, Alek | Darth Malak/Revan, The Jedi Exile/Atton "Jaq" Rand, Atris/The Jedi Exile
Characters: Revan (Star Wars), Male Revan (Star Wars), The Jedi Exile, Female Jedi Exile, Alek | Darth Malak, Carth Onasi
Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging, Teenagers, Teenage Drama, Gray Revan (Star Wars), Gray Jedi Exile (Star Wars), The Force Is Weird (Star Wars), Force Rituals (Star Wars), Accidental Use of the Force (Star Wars), Babysitting, Redemption, Alek is Trying His Best, Revan is a little shit, The Jedi Exile is a little shit, Carth is a Good Friend, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Series: Part 5 of Not Perfection but Completeness
Summary:
Alek, formerly known as Supreme Commander Malak, formerly the secret Sith leader of the Korriban and Trayus Academies, has made a lot of mistakes in his life. He knows there is no way for him to atone for all of the suffering, betrayal, and death he caused so he plans to wander the edges of known space for the rest of his miserable life. But a distress call changes everything when it presents Alek with an improbable situation - a Force ritual gone awry has transformed Meetra Surik, Carth Onasi, and Vann Chis (better known as Revan) into 18-year-old versions of themselves. These innocent, naĂve adolescents have no memories of the war-torn adults they become and lack the skills to uphold the promises their adult selves made. Worse, they're kriffing annoying and Alek is stuck babysitting them as he frantically searches for a solution.
Forced to team up with unlikely allies and face the literal faces of his past, can Alek find a path to absolution amid this mess? More importantly, can he prevent the galaxy's favorite heroes from getting themselves killed before he can restore them to their correct ages? Only the Force knows for certain, and it seems to delight in dragging Alek along for the ride!
Revan's plan to end the Mandalorian Wars in a single, decisive day is successful. But it comes with a heavy toll. The Republic's greatest commander falls while activating the Mass Shadow Generator, a superweapon they personally approved of to win the war. Alek and Meetra survive. left with the daunting task of securing the Republlic's victory as decisively and efficiently as Revan would have. They can only hope that they succeed.
Four years later, Alek and his daughter are trying to live a peaceful life away from war and politics when a ghost from the past threatens to destroy the fragile life they've built...
Blinking rapidly to stop a wave of dizziness from overtaking him, Malak wondered, "So, there wasn't any reverberation? Revan was concerned about that, but it sounds like they had no reason to be."
"There was some. But, umâŠ" Gently settling herself on the edge of the medical cot, Meetra placed a soft hand on her friend's thigh. It was the type of comforting gesture that the other Jedi had come to fear throughout the war, a sure sign that bad news was incoming. As foreboding gripped his heart he suddenly realized how quiet the room was, devoid of the bustle and shouts that usually filled the medical bay after a large battle. The silence was terrifying, only broken by the blonde carefully murmuring, "AlekâŠÂ Squint⊠I wasn't the one to order the weapon's use. And it wasn't my ship that was in the blast radius."
The words were spoken plainly, but Malak could sense the dread filling each syllable. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly too dry. "Then whose was it? Nobody else in the fleet was authorized to know about the Mass Shadow Generator and only three individuals could give the command to use it. Me, you, andâŠ"
"It was Revan. My portion of the fleet was swarmed by a vanguard of heavily armed Mandalorian vessels. They far outpaced their main fleet and our flagship so that they could reach me first. I'm not sure if it was a group of warriors still bitter over Dxun or if they had intel that I was in charge of a special weapon, butâŠ"
"So, what the hells happened out there?"
The composure of a battlefield commander fell away as Meetra's eyes filled with tears. "Almost half of my fleet was taken out before Revan reached us. I was going to order the use of the weapon to preserve the rest of our vessels, but my ship was boarded. I was injured and⊠Revan brought the flagship around to act as a shield while their troops provided support to protect Bao-Dur. He⊠he needed time to prepare the Mass Shadow Generator."
"And where's the karking flagship now!?"
"Revan gave the order to activate the weapon. Due to their ship's defensive positioning, they were in the blast radius. Some of their crew managed to escape using the shuttles, butâŠ"
The world was going black around the edges as panic seized Malak's mind and a high-pitched ringing echoed in his ears. "But what? Where the kriff is Phae?!"
"They weren't on any of the recovered vessels. We performed multiple scans of Malachor's surface but so far there have been no signs of life⊠which is exactly what they planned for."
A cold lump formed in the Guardian's gut, the sensation spreading out to his limbs. "But that's not⊠They can't beâŠ"
"They might not be dead! But⊠but their ship was destroyed by the weapon, torn apart and slammed into the planet again and againâŠ" Meetra shuddered at the memory. "We smashed Malachor into an unrecognizable graveyard."
"So they're down there somewhere! You and I both know they might be capable of protecting themself in a crash that severe, so you need to send out a search party now!"
"I can't, not until things settle." Swallowing hard, the Sentinel whispered, "Remember I mentioned that there was a⊠reverberation? Right after the Mass Shadow Generator was activated, I felt the Force scream with the pain of everyone caught in the blast. It was⊠I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't even think. And then everything went silent. It was over within minutes but for an instant, it felt like the Force died."
"...What!? I thought you said that you weren't affected by the damn weapon!"
"I said I was barely affected, which is true. I feel fine now aside from one hells of a concussion. But in that moment, I couldn't reach out to the Force. And that might mean that RevanâŠ"
"No! They're stronger than both of us combined. If anyone could push past that sensation and surviveâŠ"
As the war drags on and the losses mount, Revan comes to the realization that the Republic needs a swift and decisive victory in order to finally end things. With the help of their generals, they devise a plan to do just that. But even with a superweapon in place to devastate the Mandalorian fleet things go awry and Mandalore the Ultimate tries to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat by challenging the commander to a duel. It's Malak who answers the call, freeing Revan to rendezvous with Meetra at Malachor and potentially ending the war in a single instant...
At any other point in the war, Malak would have been far more disappointed that he wasn't the favorite parent of the youngling he'd only met a few months prior. If it had happened when his optimism wasn't dependent on how many Mandalorians he could kill in a single battle, he undoubtedly would have tried to win his daughter over. Even prior to their plans for Malachor he could have at least found the energy to be irritated about the situation. But in the days leading up to the explosive finale of the war, the realization that Lypima needed Phaetin far more than she needed him was merely another fact that he needed to accept in order to keep moving forward.
By the time Malak was in position covering Revan's strategic retreat, he was hardly thinking about their daughter. And by the time two-thirds of the Republic fleet was leading almost the entirety of the Mandalorian armada towards Malachor, there were far more pressing concerns than which parent Lypima preferred.
"Mandalore's flagship is slowing down! Why the kriff are they slowing?!" the younger Guardian shouted into the comm unit on the bridge of his own vessel. "Dammit, it looks like a good portion of the fleet is following suit. Do you think they know�"
"No. This is⊠unplanned. They're not flying in formation and half of the ships appear unsure if they should stop or keep chasing me. I don't know what Mandalore is up to, but it reeks of desperation." Sounding almost pleased at this turn of events, the commander suddenly grew somber as they announced, "There's something coming through our comm from Mandalore's flagship. Open your channels so that you can also receive it."
Gesturing for one of his officers to do just that, Malak waited impatiently for the Mandalorian leader's announcement. Luckily, it wasn't long before a modulated voice growled, "Revan. It seems that you've outmaneuvered us yet again. Impressive as always, little Jetii."
"Are you contacting me to surrender, Mandalore? If not, I'd appreciate it if you kept my comm channels clear during a military operation that I am clearly winning."
"Always so presumptuous. I admire that. In fact, I admire many things about you. Though you may call yourself a Knight, you are truly a warrior, and as such you know that there is only one way this war can ever end, one way that you can claim true victory. Face me, Revan. No troops, no strategies, no feints or flanking. Just blades clashing, as is the way of warriors like us."
The challenge surprised Malak and he found himself at a loss for words. But Revan responded to the duel as though they'd been expecting nothing less. "And when I win and claim your mask, your people will surrender?"
"Hmm. Let us see if you retain that confidence without your generals and your army. Come to my ship. You have my word as Mandalore that you will be granted safe passage. You and I both know that we have always been fated to meet like this. Every maneuver of this war has been leading up to this moment which only one of us will walk away from. Give me the battle I was promised, a duel that will be remembered for generations to come!"
Several breathless seconds passed as the Jedi commander presumably weighed the benefits of dueling Mandalore with the risks it posed. If the Mandalorian leader could be defeated it would leave his people demoralized and potentially rudderless, helping to ensure a final victory at Malachor. Better, it would scatter the clans and prevent future uprisings. However, this was all dependent on the idea that Mandalore could be beaten in a fair fight. The armored figure was undoubtedly formidable and one misstep would spell certain doom for any Jedi who underestimated him. If Revan was killed in a duel, the loss would jeopardize the success of the fleet battle, giving the Mandalorians an opportunity to seize victory from the jaws of defeat. Worse, Lypima would lose the 'Renny' she had only just found.
Taking all of these factors into consideration, Malak knew that there was only one choice to make. Calling out to the officer operating the bridge's comm unit, he ordered a line of communication opened with Mandalore's flagship. Before he could lose his nerve, the general announced, "In case you haven't noticed, Mandalore, the Commander is a bit busy right now. But fortunately for you, my schedule is far more accommodating."
"General Malak. If I have to cut through you to get to Revan, I shall. I hope you recognize what an honor it will be to die by my blade."
"Well, when described that way, I can't refuse the offer." The Jedi hoped that his voice sounded calm even as the gravity of his decision made his adrenaline soar. He gestured for his crew to begin moving his vessel out of formation and closer to Mandalore's flagship. "I'll be to your position in ten minutes and I trust that you'll extend the same hospitality to me that you'd show to my commander."
"Of course General. I look forward to finally displaying your corpse as a trophy." The threat should have been ominous, but it mostly sounded hollow and Malak was reminded of the earlier prediction that this was all an act of desperation. It was a promising sign.
Unfortunately, Revan didn't seem to agree. Less than a minute after communication with the Mandalorians was officially cut, the older Jedi was yelling over their private line. "Malak, what in Sith hells are you doing?!"
"I can beat him! I'm nearly as fast as you in a duel and whether you want to admit it or not, I'm stronger." Attempting to appeal to his friends' tactical nature, the general explained, "You need to keep leading the rest of his fleet into position. If you accept this challenge and remain behind, too many of the Mandalorians will stay with you and Meetra won't have the backup she requires. Go! You need to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet because only you can solve any potential issues that arise from here on out. The fate of the Republic has always been in your hands, not mine."
"No!" The commander's tone was resolute. "Get your ass back here and stick to the original plan! That's an order!"
But Malak didn't obey. There was too much at stake, and even if he lost the duel he'd still provide enough of a distraction for the rest of their gambit to succeed. For the first time in a long while, Malak knew he was making a choice that would benefit the greater good. The Republic needed their commander⊠and their daughter needed Phaetin. "Meetra is expecting you⊠and so is Lypima. Take good care of her, Phae. Over⊠and out." With that, he cut off the private comm line as his vessel moved into position to dock with Mandalore's flagship.
Several months after cleansing the Telos Academy, Meetra Surik and her loved ones reflect on all that has happened and what the future holds. Once broken and blind to the Force, she now sees herself as an individual who holds endless potential. Vann has finally accepted his past as Revan and embraces that identity as he forges his new place in the galaxy. Alek, who caused the Republic so much pain now walks the slow road to redemption. And through it all, their friends and allies help them pave the path to a better, and Lighter, new day.
"Speaking of AtrisâŠ"
Glaring venomously at Alek, Vann hissed, "Can we⊠not?"
But the former Supreme Commander ignored his friend as he mused, "I'm a bit surprised she didn't end up here with the rest of us. I'm also shocked that the Council has been so forgiving of her transgressions. After all, she's the reason Master Lestin was killedâŠ"
A wave of anger roiled around both men and Meetra was suddenly reminded of how close they were to the Twi'lek Master during their time as Padawans. There was nothing she could say to ease the pain of that loss other than to explain what little she knew. "Atris always viewed herself as a Jedi, even after her fall. For now, she'd rather beg forgiveness from the remaining Council, though⊠I'm not sure if she'll find the absolution she's looking for."
"So, you do think she'll end up here?"
"No. At least, not anytime soon." Smiling wistfully, Meetra glanced knowingly at Alek. "But there's a whole galaxy out there where she can finally find the answers she needs."
"For now, the Council continues to be cowards who'd rather keep Atris around as a probationary Jedi than go through the trouble of training a new archivist. I'm glad some things never change." Snorting in disgust at the Jedi's continuing weakness, Vann seemed content to leave them behind. But then he noted the former Consular's lingering sadness. "Well, at least Kavar finally seems to have learned real compassion and forgiveness thanks to you."
"I hope they all have⊠for the Order's sake."
Alek nodded, even as he dismissively snorted, "Well, if they kark-up again, at least there's another academy where Force-sensitive sentients can seek training for generations to come."
Phrasing it like that suddenly made the importance of Telos's academy feel impossibly monumental. Swallowing to hide her discomfort, Meeta hastily asked, "Speaking of generations⊠how's Dustil? He and Carth seem to be getting along lately."
"They are! Dustil is old enough to see his dad as a real person and not a looming parental figure he needs to rebel against on principle." Humming thoughtfully, Vann admitted, "The fact that Carth spends half of his time on Coruscant with me also helps their relationship. 'Absence makes you less likely to Force-choke your father', or whatever the old saying is."
"And how does Onasi like being a politician's husband?"
"I already told you, I'm not a politician! Thank the Force, because Carth can't stand Coruscant. The traffic alone is enough to give him a migraine. He's looking forward to these negotiations finally ending so that he can put in a transfer to be moved to Telos full-time. I keep telling him to retire from the Navy and join theâŠÂ wait." The moment that Vann's mind caught up to the rest of the conversation was only made funnier by his flustered indignation. "What did you call him?! We're notâŠ! He's notâŠ!"
"I can guarantee that Onasi has been considering the prospect for months now, even if he hasn't said anything out loud. I can also guarantee that you would have found some way to ruin whatever plans he has in mind, likely in the most dramatic way possible." Fixing his gaze on his still-sputtering friend, Alek told the other man, "Consider this a warning to sit back and let someone else strategize this aspect of your life."
"YouâŠ!"
"Relax. I'm sure that whatever Carth has planned will be very sweet." Meetra nodded to the reformed Sith, confirming that they shared suspicions regarding Carth's impending proposal and Vann's inexplicable ability to kriff up his personal life. "So, please do your best to not ruin it."
"IâŠ!"
Sighing as panic overtook the prodigy, Alek chose to talk around him rather than fight the growing wave of anxiety. "I assume that your previous comment was going to reference the Telos Restoration Project." He turned to Meetra. "One of your students is currently heading the efforts, correct?"
"Yes!" Another flush of pride filled the former Consular's presence. "Bao-Dur is back to working with the Ithorians to terraform the landscape in the wake of the fires. He's actually using the Force to connect with the native flora and fauna to better understand the needs of the planet. It's really beautiful."
"I admittedly didn't know that was possible."
Meetra grinned at Alek as she declared, "Neither did I! Either way, it's incredible and I'm so happy for him. This project is finally letting him heal after the Mass Shadow Generator."
"And how are you⊠healing?"
Noting her friend's concern, the blonde attempted to shrug off the question. The truth was that she would never return to the person she was before Malachor, something she'd finally accepted. "I am what I am. Some may sense a void, but I prefer to see my own potential."
"That's⊠a good way to view things." Alek's sorrow was fading, replaced by a sense of hope that he hadn't carried for a long time. His expression remained somber as he warned, "You'll need that type of optimism as this academy grows. While it's not surprising that most of your students are older than the average Initiate, it certainly makes for a more⊠rambunctious population."
It seemed that Vann had finally found his voice again, his tone growing thoughtful. "With a lot more older students and none of the Jedi's objections to romantic attachment, it wouldn't be surprising if you see some younglings born here. And, if they turn out to be Force-sensitive, their parents will probably want them trained as well."
The possibility hadn't occurred to Meetra and she suddenly felt light-headed at the idea. "That would certainly lower the average age of the student populationâŠ"
"It's an event worth preparing for even if nobody is planning to be in that situation any time soon."
Meeting Alek's contemplative expression with a scowl, Vann snapped, "Don't look at me! Dustil is the closest thing I'll ever have to a child of my own. Need I remind you of some very specific biological reasons why Carth and I can't reproduce together?"
"There are ways around that." Waving away her friend's excuses, Meetra assured him, "But don't feel like you need to have children just because you agreed to train generations of Force users. At this point, the two of us have practically adopted an entire orphanage and I'm sure someone you know will have plenty of younglings for you to train."
"On that note, you and Rand have significantly fewer obstacles than Vann and Carth."
"Technically true, but that doesn't matter." Offering Alek a soft smile, Meetra admitted, "I think we're both a little too scarred by the war and everything that came after to make good parents. But who knows? Ask us again in five years."
"Can I add that it's deeply unfair that you're purposely excluding yourself from this kriffing conversation?"
Alek was unmoved by Vann's disapproval. "I understand your criticism but will continue to recuse myself from the subject."
But the prodigy wasn't willing to accept that answer. For an instant his gaze grew distant, a sure sign of returning memories, only for his focus to sharpen into an accusatory glare. "Hey, you're the only one here who ever wanted children! Or, at least you had strong feelings about the Jedi's non-attachment policies. You once told me that the children of Jedi are often strong with the Force, so the Order should be practical about the whole thing."
Turning bright red, Alek muttered, "And you always find the worst moment to remember these things!"
"It's alright, we understand." Meetra placed a comforting hand on her friend's arm even as she noted Vann's continued amusement. "You were twelve when you lost your entire family to the Mandalorians and it makes sense that you would want to reclaim some aspect of that life. And you can have it, at least when you feel ready."
"I doubt it." Tapping his prosthetic, Alek told the blonde, "You're not the only one scarred by war."
"Well, what a delightfully depressing conversation! I guess the best we can hope for is that one of our adopted students decides to make us the fun aunt and uncles."
That idea honestly warmed Meetra's heart, dragging her from her emotional slump. As images of her friends' potential children filled her mind, round-faced and calling her 'Auntie Meetra', she couldn't help but blurt, "My credits are on Bastila."
"It would be fitting if the Republic had to deal with generations of Shans influencing major events for the next several generations."
Nodding to Alek, the former Consular raised a mock toast. "May they all share her conviction and fortitude."
"Perhaps with less sass."
Vann could only snort at the notion, declaring, "I think the sass might be a genetic trait."
Atris's obsession with understanding the dark side has ultimately led to the archivist's downfall. In a perfect galaxy, Meetra would be the bastion of light her friend needs to find a path out of that darkness and seek redemption. But the galaxy is far from perfect and Meetra is unsure if she can help Atris... or if she even wants to. As the Jedi Exile confronts this final part of her past, can she find new meaning in everything that she left behind?
Fueled by a fresh burst of rage, the Echani charged forward with renewed vigor as she jabbed her blade toward Meetra's face, trying to make her foe flinch before she whirled around and struck at the other woman's shoulder. The first strike was easily sidestepped and the second parried before the former General used that momentum to lunge forward and slash her opponent's hip. The hit drew a low hiss of pain as the surrounding Force roiled with seething resentment. Shrieks and howls filled the air as the holocrons voiced their approval, causing both duelists to fall back and refocus amid the tempting cacophony of voices. As Meetra caught her breath she examined her foe, noting that the archivist was sweating hard from exertion and favoring the wounds she'd received. Hope surged through the former Consular as she realized that she had the upper hand and could finish the duel before either of them was seriously injured.
Atris also recognized her disadvantage and positioned herself defensively even as her gaze brimmed with aggression. Sensing an opportunity to end the fight quickly, Meetra surged forward and prepared to kick out the Echani's legs, hoping to knock the other woman down and pin her in place with a lightsaber blade to the throat. Just as her boot left the ground she tasted the familiar tang of ozone in the air. Immediately abandoning her attack, she dodged to the side and stretched out one hand to summon the incoming Force lightning into her own body. As the electricity struck her palm she absorbed the full might of the attack, allowing it to surge through her for several seconds before harmlessly redirecting it into the floor.
Sparks still danced along Meetra's fingertips as she pleaded, "Atris, stop. This darkness isn't you!"
"It's what I've become!" Desperation crept into the Echani's voice as darkness coiled around her, the Force growing mind-numbingly cold. Extending her arm, she curled her fingers into a fist and smirked as she wrapped invisible pressure around her opponent's throat, using it to try and drag the other woman to her knees.
Resisting the urge to grasp at her neck in a useless attempt to pry the Force from her airway, Meetra held her breath as she concentrated on remaining upright and taking a single, arduous step forward. When it worked, she took another. Every movement made her feel like she was back on Dxun, trudging through mud that sucked down her boots and made her use twice the energy to move half the distance. At least the effort of putting one foot in front of the other gave her something to focus on as the oxygen deprivation made it increasingly difficult to think. As the former Consular trudged along Atton cursed colorfully, his desperation to help his friend flowing through the bond. It took most of the former General's strength to wave him away even as her gaze remained locked on Atris. For the first time since the confrontation began, she could see a flicker of fear in her former friend's eyes, put there by the sheer power of Meetra's will.
The grasp on the blonde's body lessened as the Echani's focus waned and the black spots swimming through her vision faded when she drew some thin breaths. Despite this relief, her arm still felt as though it weighed a hundred kilos as she reached up with leaden fingers and grasped Atris's wrist.
"Stop," Meetra rasped. "Atris, please."
The genuine, plaintive tone somehow reached the Echani and her mental grip on the other woman finally released, much to the holocrons' displeasure. Sucking in lungfuls of air, the former Consular sighed in relief as she regain full control of her limbs. But the peace didn't last as the darkness coalesced thicker and colder than ever before. Eyes narrowing, Atris glared at the hand grasping her wrist before jerking her own arm back and using her opponent's hold to her advantage. The brawling maneuver was wholly out of character for the esteemed archivist and it caught Meetra off-guard, effectively causing her to strike her own face. Distracted by the pain of a split lip she released her grip and stumbled back, instinctively bringing her lightsaber up to guard her vitals. An instant later the Echani descended on her foe from midair.
Wiping away the fresh blood, Meetra deflected the overhead strike with practiced ease. The strong block surprised Atris and she landed awkwardly, her boots skidding inelegantly even as she lunged forward for another hit. This was also knocked away and the sheer frustration of failure caused the Echani to lash out in a blind rage with a flurry of swings that lacked finesse but compensated with sheer ferocity. The number of blows raining down was almost enough to overwhelm the former General but she stood firm, parrying what she could and dodging the rest. As a particularly wicked slash nicked her forearm she grunted, rolling to the ground and springing to her feet just behind her opponent. Delivering a swift kick to the back of the other woman's knee, she made the joint buckle right before she swung her lightsaber around and held the burning plasma millimeters from Atris's throat.
"I said enough!" The Force permeated Meetra's voice, adding to the durasteel authority of an experienced battlefield commander.
From her position kneeling on the floor Atris glowered, the holocrons hissing and screeching in displeasure. She stared resolutely at her collection as she growled, "You lack the conviction to kill me."
"It's not conviction I lack," Meetra admitted. "I just don't want to see you dead."
Sympathy stayed the former General's hand in a show of mercy that the Jedi would have appreciated. But Atris was no longer a Jedi. Narrowing her eyes the archivist capitalized on her opponent's perceived weakness and dodged beneath the silvery blade the moment it wavered. Keeping her body low, she slid across the smooth floor with Force-enhanced speed until she was positioned directly behind Meetra. With a sneer of triumph, she leaped to her feet at the same moment that she stabbed her lightsaber directly at her former friend's back. Tone mocking she chided, "It's a pity I don't share your sentimentality."
"Meetra, no!"
For the longest instant, the room seemed to move in slow motion. Meetra sensed someone using the Force to sprint to her position even as she was paralyzed by the shock of this betrayal. The plasma of Atris's blade was uncomfortably hot against her skin and she braced herself for the inevitable agony of being impaled⊠yet the pain never came. Instead, she felt a bright swell of energy surround her body as it pushed her beyond the Echani's range. The holocrons howled and the air grew impossibly colder as Atris snarled her dissatisfaction and chased after her prey, her lightsaber humming as she aimed it at the other woman's heart. Before it could make contact another figure leaped between the pair, his own weapons raised to deflect the blow. But he never got the opportunity. Spotting a new target, the archivist grinned cruelly as she shifted her trajectory and plunged her blade directly into Atton's chest.
Itâs true! Obviously, the second to last full chapter of Miles To Go went up on Monday. The final chapter just needs one last round of editing, and then Iâm planning to post it on Friday. I also have the epilogue written, and while that needs some editing as well, itâs short enough that it should be a fast process.
So, this story should be 100% complete in the coming weeks! Thank you to everyone who stood by and waited for this nonsense to finally end. There will be a companion piece that will be posted at some point, but itâs not plot-relevant and mostly exists for fun.
Miles To Go Before I Sleep - Chapter 14 (Telos Pt. II)
Though the Sith Emperor has been defeated and Meetra has finally accepted her role in the destruction of Malachor, she is still haunted by Order who abandoned her and the Jedi she left behind. A simple request to investigate strange energy signatures emanating from Atris's Jedi academy on Telos becomes far more complex as Meetra and her crew are forced to break into the building and confront various aspects of their pasts now mired in darkness. Will they accept the darkest parts of themselves or will they try to rise above their past losses and mistakes?
Only two figures awaited Meetra's arrival, one seated in a high-backed chair that occupied the exact place she'd been granted on Coruscant's High Council. The other was standing at the Master's right hand. Though Atris was dressed in her normal robes she'd let her hair down from its usual bun, allowing it to cascade around her face and cast her features in shadow. The individual beside her was equally obscured, their body hidden by a Jedi's typical hooded brown cloak. The fact that the pair still looked liked members of the Order should have been comforting, but set against the chill of the academy it was somehow more ominous. The hooded figure spoke first, their voice masculine and vaguely familiar.
"I apologize, but this academy is not currently accepting visitors."
"I'm not a visitor. I'm a friend who's here to find out why this place feels so horribly wrongâŠ" As Meetra attempted to step closer to the Echani Master, a wave of Force energy pushed her back.
Hand extended, the cloaked figure warned, "I said my Master is not seeing anyone today."
The voice was a haunting echo of someone from the former Consular's past, though his name and face still eluded her. Frustrated, she blurted out, "Who are you? I recognize your voice, but I can't quite place you."
"You truly don't remember your own Padawan?" Atris's words were strained and reedy as she stared up from beneath her curtain of hair. Her normally shining silver irises appeared dull, like a clouded mirror. "I'm disappointed, but not surprised seeing how far you've fallen."
"But I've never had a Padawan!" Confusion filled Meetra as she tried to untangle the situation, the various parts failing to fit together within her mind. She'd still been a Padawan herself when she'd joined the war, on the cusp of Knighthood but not yet ready to face the Trials. Yes, there were Initiates and even other Padawans she'd discussed her future with, mostly shared dreams painted in broad strokes. But the only plans that ever truly meant enough to bring to fruition were those she shared with Deran and Alek, later Revan and Malak, all centered on defending the Republic. The impossibility of what the archivist was proposing was infuriating, and it was easy to turn the anger back on its source. "You truly believe I've fallen? Atris, look at yourself, at this place! Can't you see�"
Standing swiftly from her chair, the Echani Master waved a dismissive hand "All I see is someone who abandoned me and the rest of the Order! You left us behind while you sought violence and glory all while polluting the name 'Jedi' with every swing of your lightsaber."
"I didn't abandon you! I wanted you to come with me, to join us in fighting to safeguard the Republic and protect innocent lives. I never wanted to leave youâŠ"
"Don't lie!" Anger lined every delicate plane of Atris's face, her normally placid visage turned unrecognizable from rage. "You betrayed me and everything we stood for when you left for war!"
"Betrayed�" The word tasted bitter on Meetra's tongue as she recalled Kreia's last cryptic warning. 'There must always be a Darth Traya.'
As though sensing this thought, the Echani muttered, "Perhaps it's because betrayal lays at the heart of every sentient." Sweeping towards the chamber exit that led to her quarters, she left the others in her wake as she coldly ordered, "Mical, take care of these intruders. I don't have time for their games."
The hooded figure nodded as he carefully shrugged the cloak from his shoulders and reached for his lightsaber. Now revealed beneath the still-flashing warning lights, the young man staring disdainfully at the crew had a high brow and square jaw, all accented by the visible black veins running through his pallid skin. "Yes Master," he responded with a smirk as his green blade hissed to life. "As you wish."
Meetra nearly stumbled as she tried to reconcile the embittered man stalking toward her with the kind, thoughtful Padawan she'd once known. "...Mical? I⊠what happened?!"
"What happened? The same thing that happened to every other Padawan who remained behind during the war. We learned what we could from Knights and Masters already spread too thin thanks to the Revanchists' absences. Then we earned our Knighthoods too young in a rush to fill the voids you left before we were released, naive and unprepared, into a galaxy that distrusted us either because the Council refused to act at the beginning of the war or because Malak fell at the end of it. Everything I am was molded by the Revanchists' shortsighted actions."
Stepping protectively in front of Meetra, Atton ignited his own 'sabers as he scoffed, "She didn't do this to you."
"Just like Malak didn't make you a murderer?"
"He didn't. That was my choice."
Chuckling darkly, Mical raised his blade challengingly. "Hmm. At least you admit your own weakness."
"Stop!" Rushing to place herself between the two men before they came to blows, Meetra insisted, "There's no need to argue. Please, just let me pass so that I can speak with Atris. I don't want to hurt you."
But the supposed disciple only sneered as he lunged at his former friend. "Then this should be a quick fight."
Atton's lightsabers hummed as he leaped forward and swung his main blade out to intercept the strike. "Don't you touch her!"
"Well then. I'm glad I also have no qualms about taking down a murderer."
Another lightsaber ignited as Visas also stepped forward to guard her teacher. "Exile, go! Catch up with Atris. We can hold him off."
Though Meetra didn't want to abandon her students, to abandon Atton, the trailing ends of the Master's robe were barely visible on the ramp leading away from the Council Chambers and the former General desperately needed to speak with the other woman and uncover the answers she'd come so far to find. With a last glance toward her friends, she sprinted forward, using the Force to enhance her speed so that she could dash past Mical just before his lightsaber struck her. The air filled with the sizzle of plasma as someone countered the maneuver and the battle began.
The very last wisp of white fabric was sweeping out of view as the gate between the chamber and the ramp slammed shut, causing Meetra to run into the barrier. Grunting and cursing, she pounded her palms against the surface in a strange mirror of her earlier visit to Telos, something she vaguely realized as she reached for her lightsaber and announced, "Dammit, the way's already blocked! I'm going to cut my way through."
The silvery blade had only begun to burn through the metal when Atton suddenly shouted, "Meetra, watch ouâŠ!"
The interrupted warning caused the former Consular to spin around just in time to watch her crewmate crumple as one of the Council chairs crashed down on top of him with enough force to shake the floor. He yelped in pain as something in his shoulder crunched, a noise that made Mical grin as he stood with his hand outstretched, clearly the one who threw the furniture in the first place. Taking an instant to analyze the scene, Meetra, rushed over to her injured friend. "Atton!"
"I'm sorry!" Visas cried, her own arm falling to her side. The Force was still pulsing around her, proof that she'd tried and failed to stop the attack. "I thought I could hold him off but heâŠ"
"He's strong." Looking over at Atris's disciple, Meetra searched the Force for the boy he'd once been. In the harsh glare of the warning lights, it was difficult to envision the Initiate she'd met so many years ago, a shy youngling with a bright smile and a deep fascination with Jedi history. As a result, the pair had shared an appreciation for Atris, albeit for very different reasons. Over the years they had bonded over other things, their belief in peace and tranquility binding them amidst a galaxy on the brink of war. Thus, it felt natural for her to promise the newly promoted Padawan that she would personally train him once she earned her Knighthood. But that day never came, and Mical was never among the Jedi who joined the Mercy Corps.
"Does this surprise you? You, who once showed me the ways of the Force, how to hear it sing within the life around me?" Eyes narrowing, the disciple's fist clenched and another chair began to rise. As a Jedi, his Force connection hadn't been particularly strong, but the dark side could make even the most modest Force-user devastatingly powerful as it rotted them from within. "You, who once promised to show me so much more when the time finally came, only to abandon the Republic you claimed to protect?"
Reaching into the surrounding Force, Meetra thrust out her hand and gritted her teeth as she fought against the disciple's dark strength. Somehow, she managed to hold the seat in place long enough for Atton to stir beside her. His own command of the Force enabled him to escape the furniture pinning him, though not without a groan of pain from the effort. Seeing her friend safe and sensing that she couldn't hold off her opponent for much longer, the former Consular pleaded, "I understand why you're angry at me. I was angry at myself for a long timeâŠ"
"You understand nothing!" The chair Mical was reaching for cracked down the center as he raged, "The Council permitted you to go to war only for you to discard their values, the very values that you swore to uphold. You, who supposedly followed Revan to war to preserve the Republic and yet abandoned us in our time of need as your own friends pushed it to the brink of collapse!"
Tackling the disciple from the side, Visas managed to catch him by surprise as she drove her elbow between his ribs. He grunted and stumbled back, raising his lightsaber just in time to block a strong swing from the Miraluka who calmly informed him, "You know nothing of sacrifice. The Revanchists sacrificed everything so that the Republic would survive."
The final chapter(s) of Miles To Go are FINALLY written!
After years of procrastination, writer's block, a pandemic, and a variety of life changes I am finally done writing the final chapter of Miles To Go Before I Sleep, my silly little KOTOR 2 fanfic. In many ways, I am so relieved and elated to finally pass this hurdle. In many other ways, I am kicking myself because it's actually two chapters and now I have to edit the dang thing.
But, if anyone is still reading this, fear not dear reader! I will edit both chapters and try to have them up in something resembling a timely manner. I don't think there will be a set schedule for this, so I'm mostly hoping that I can get them up at the beginning and end of next week.
There is also an epilogue to write, but that is significantly easier since it's going to be comparatively short and mostly consist of some characters discussing how everything shook out and where everyone landed. Even without the epilogue (in case I utterly fail to write it) the story is complete. So, take heart in knowing that this tale is coming to an end and both you and I can finally have some closure.
The Sith Emperor has finally been banished, at least for now, leaving Vann with one final task to ensure the safety of the Republic that he fought so hard to protect. He must train a new generation of Force users and prepare them for the inevitable moment when the Emperor returns, something that might not happen for centuries. But he is not alone and the task ahead is far from impossible. For the first time in decades, the Revanchist's future is bright, something that's almost overwhelming as he struggles to finally make peace with his past.
"I⊠I think that I'm done running off to save the Republic for a while. Or I'm at least done saving it from the Emperor. He'll be back, I'm sure of it, but it won't be for a long, long time. Not in my lifetime, anyway. Which, I guess means that it's finally over. Kriff. It's overâŠ" The stunning reality of admitting this out loud caused Vann's voice to catch in his throat and he gasped, his entire body going limp as a warm rush of relief swept through him. He tried to say something, to crack a joke or make a flippant comment, but the only thing that came out was a thin, strangled sob.
Wetness spilled from the former mercenary's eyes and he burrowed his head into his partner's shoulder partially to hide his tears, but mostly because he needed someone else to physically support him as he finally accepted that yes, this entire ordeal was finally over. Even without the Force Carth seemed to sense this and he tightened his hold on the other man, pressing feather-light kisses against his temple while rubbing circles into his back.
"Hey, it's alright. Let it out." At this point, the captain was the only thing keeping Vann on his feet. "It is over. You won against that son of a kath hound and saved the rest of us in the process. I honestly can't begin to imagine what you're feeling right now, but I'm hoping that you can finally find the peace that you deserve."
Already flushed and sniffly, Vann hiccuped, "Do I really deserve it? After everything I've done?"
"Yes, undoubtedly so." A brilliant cascade of reassurance flowed through the Force bond, glowing brighter as Bastila embraced her mentor while also providing another body to lean on. Resting her head against his shoulder, she murmured, "In fact, I dare say that you're allowed to be happy."
"If I'm supposed to be so happy then why can't I stop crying?!"
"Because you're relieved, overwhelmed, and probably still in some pain." Laughing gently, Carth cupped his partner's cheek as he gazed down with pure affection, "You've spent over a decade working to save the Republic from a threat that nobody else knew how to confront or even sense and, after all that time and sacrifice, you finally succeeded. The Republic is safe thanks to you. You're a hero three times over."
Resisting the urge to wipe his nose with the back of his hand, Vann muttered, "I don't feel like a hero."
Bastila remained close, the bond still shimmering with her unwavering support. "I think that's the best sign that you truly are one."
"And as a hero, you've earned a rest. I know that you made some type of promise to train your students to guard the Republic for generations to come butâŠ" Carth's tone was pleading. "I'd really like to see you take a break."
"Besides, your goal of training others should be quite attainable considering that you have at least one student willing to help you achieve it." Smiling gently, the former Sentinel murmured, "You've imparted a great deal of knowledge on me over the years and it would be my pleasure to share it with others. What you've decided to do isn't a burden, it's a gift to the galaxy. There are many more Force users out there who will benefit from your guidance and the wisdom that comes from your breadth of experience."
"But for kriff sake, don't think that you have to wake up tomorrow and throw everything you have into teaching. You can do other things, too. Preferably things that don't involve running off and picking a fight with an immortal Sith, or searching for an ancient weapon left by a lost empire, or rediscovering a forgotten dark side academyâŠ"
Hastily interrupting the pilot, Bastila clarified, "I think what Carth is trying to say is that, for perhaps the first time in your life, you can choose whatever comes next."
That concept was almost too enormous for Vann to consider, especially given how physically and emotionally exhausted he was. Throughout his existence, there had always been a larger mission for him to complete or some greater goal for him to achieve. The Jedi, the war, his mercenary work, the Star Forge, the Sith⊠his responsibilities had been endless. But now the only thing before him was a single, long-term plan that was easily attainable with just a little help from his many friends. It wouldn't consume all of his waking moments, nor did he want it to. He had plenty of time to do whatever he pleased, which was an idea so staggering that he couldn't think about it without the possibilities overwhelming him.
But the immediate future was easy to envision. Breathing through the last of his sobs, Vann grinned weakly at Carth. "Right now I just want a hot bath. And maybe a nap in our bed with you next to me."
The pilot nodded approvingly. "Both good choices."
A sly idea entered the former mercenary's mind. "After that, I want to finish repairing H-Kay. I know one of you did something with the control cluster that I need to get him working again. Don't deny it!"
The cold buzz of guilt breezing through the Force was all the proof that Vann needed, even before the bond slammed shut on Bastila's end. Staring accusingly as his Padawan cautiously backed away, he was about to demand exactly what she'd done with the missing part when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and carefully but purposefully pulled him away from Bastila. Despite the cracked ribs Carth had suffered during the crash, he was still more than capable of physically steering his partner through the hangar with surprisingly little effort.
Clearly determined to distract the other man, the captain cheerfully chirped, "So, how about that bath?"
Vann could easily escape the hold but the effort required was more energy than he felt like expending. So, he allowed himself to be half guided and half dragged towards the hangar exit all while continuing to glare at his apprentice over his shoulder. The effect was probably less ominous than he intended, though that didn't stop him from shouting, "I'm going to get my kriffing droid back. You both know that you can't stop me!"
Both Carth and Bastila sighed at this announcement, though they didn't deny its truth. By now even the Sith Emperor knew that there wasn't a sentient in the galaxy who could stop the Revanchist once he set his mind to something.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
"Twelve years ago, Alek's entire life was taken from him by the Mandalorians. Seven years ago, Alek and Phaetin vowed to do whatever they could to protect the rest of the galaxy from this growing threat. Now, the Mandalorians ravage the Outer Rim as the Republic teeters on the brink of war, ready to defend itself against one of the most merciless enemies the galaxy has ever seen. Amidst this chaos, two young Jedi Knights are determined to protect the innocent and defend the helpless, even if the Jedi Council refuses to sanction their actions. Revan and Malak will protect the Republic because it is their duty, and because somewhere out there a child is growing up in a violent and unpredictable galaxy and they have sworn to be her distant guardians, no matter the cost."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
"Frightened by the encroaching Mandalorian threat, Alek becomes more determined than ever to reach Phaetin and protect them from whatever darkness lurks on the horizon. But his fantasies of finding his friend and forming a safe and loving family are soon dashed by the harsh reality that neither teenager is truly prepared to raise a child, no matter how much they might love each other. But the Force prodigy has their own plan, one that might save the galaxy even if it leaves Alek miserable in the process."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
"Despite wanting nothing to do with Phaetin, Alek becomes concerned when it becomes clear that the other Padawan ran away. Some insight from a surprising source puts the situation in a different light, and Alek begins to realize that his previous assumptions may have been woefully incorrect. A hidden letter reveals the truth, though it seems to be too little too late. However, news of the growing Mandalorian threat overshadows everything, potentially laying the groundwork for things to come."
"One final attempt to reach out to Phaetin reveals the true reason behind the prodigy's odd behavior. It's a potentially life-changing revelation, and Alek is prepared for all of the joy and consequences that come with it. However, Phaetin had other plans and proceeds to do everything in their power to prevent the younger Padawan from becoming involved in what they fear could be a catastrophic turn of events. Unfortunately, this choice only rouses Alek's suspicions, causing him to cast some hurtful accusations at the person he considers his best friend."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
SUMMARY - Alek has been in love with his best friend for years, a relationship that seemingly must remain unrequited. After all, Phaetin is a prodigy destined to become one of the greatest Jedi the Order has ever seen, and Jedi shouldn't fall in love. But one night in the Ancient Grove changes everything after a drunken celebration leads to so much more. For the first time in a long while, Alek's life seems almost perfect... right before everything falls apart.
One drunken night soon jeopardizes the Padawans' futures as they struggle with mistrust, misunderstandings, and a looming problem that neither of them is prepared for. Someday these teenagers will be known as Revan and Malak, the Jedi Knights who defied the Council and save the Republic. But for now, they're just Phaetin and Alek, the Order's favorite prodigy and the best friend who might have accidentally gotten said prodigy pregnant...
Ultimately, this changes nothing. Except that it changes EVERYTHING.
Chapter One is now up on AO3! It's Revlek that takes place during their Padawan days when Alek (Malak) is 16 and Phaetin (Revan) is 17. This portion is 5 chapters, and I'll be posting a chapter per week.
More samples from my Revlek (Revlak?) story. I'll (hopefully) be posting the first full chapter on AO3 later this week. (And I'll hopefully be jumping back into work on Miles to Go next week!)
Reminder: Phaetin is Revan, they are nonbinary/genderqueer afab, and they are 17. Alek is Malak and he is 16. They are both very young and prone to being thoughtless teenagers.
Despite some lingering concern for his friendâs welfare under Vrook Lamarâs tutelage, the younger teen felt happier than he had in days. Though a bit more severe than normal, Phaetinâs pre-menstrual symptoms were just human biology and not signs of some horrible, previously undescribed illness. Theyâd survive, albeit grumpily, and life would continue as normal. Better still, the pair felt as close as theyâd ever been and that night on Dantooine hadnât irreparably ruined their friendship.Â
So, Alek was fairly shocked to be awakened a few nights later by Xaset frantically shaking his shoulder.
âSquint! Pssst, wake-up!â
âHuh?â
âHey! Do you, uh, do you know where Phaetinâs sneaking off to?â
âTheyâre doing what?â
âTheyâre sneaking out. I just caught them with their cloak over other clothing, hanging around near the meditation sunroom on the first floor. You know, the one with theâŠâ
âThe loose window. Yes, I know the one.â Suddenly very awake, Alek sat up and rubbed his face. âWhat happened? What did they say?â
âNot much. All I did was ask where they were going. I kind of figured the two of you were up to something fun and I wanted in. Iâd rather be the one putting glitter in the sonic than the one using it, you know?â Chuckling at the teensâ former antics, the Padawan continued, âBut they snapped at me, telling me to mind my own business and get lost. Normally I wouldnât care, but theyâve been acting weird lately.â
âThey havenât been acting that weird.â
Arching a brow at the other boy, Xaset proceeded to tick off points using his fingers. âThey threw up in xenobiology and almost did it again in the cafeteria. They fell asleep in astromechanics which they never do, and I heard a rumor that they fainted in Kavarâs class last week.â
âThey tripped and hit their head.â The lie felt thoroughly unconvincing and the other Padawan clearly sensed it. âEither way, you remember what Cariaga said. Itâs just stress from all of the extra work the Masters are giving them.â
âStress doesnât explain why theyâre currently sneaking around and avoiding everyone, even you.â Sensing the other Padawanâs doubt, Xaset explained, âIf they were acting normally, they would have of asked you to cover for them, right? Hells, if I didnât know any better Iâd think they were sneaking out to see someone. Maybe someone whoâs not part of the Order.â
The very idea was preposterous, or it would have been if Alek hadnât been the one sneaking around with the other teen less than two months prior. Suddenly, the idea that the prodigy was going on a clandestine rendezvous was disturbingly more realistic.
âI doubt theyâre seeing someoneâŠâ
âWho knows? Clearly, you donât. But if you want to find out whatâs going on we could always try and follow them.â
The offer was appealing, even if it was deeply invasive of the other teenâs privacy. âNo! Phaetinâs not some youngling who needs a babysitter every time they leave the temple.â
âEven if theyâve been acting suspicious the past few days?â
âThey havenât been acting suspicious!â As he spoke, Alek could sense his own doubts. While he was fairly sure heâd solved the mystery of his friendâs exhaustion and headaches, it didnât explain the sheer elusiveness the other Padawan was displaying. Even on their grouchiest days, the prodigy still sought Alek out to discuss any number of things, sometimes heartfelt and occasionally just plain strange. But, if the younger teen was being honest with himself, the pair hadnât shared a real conversation in almost three days. Before their discussion in the hall, it had been over a week since theyâd exchanged anything more than idle small talk.
It was normal for Phaetin to experience bouts of moodiness and temper that occasionally put them at odds with the other Padawans. Their intellect and strength in the Force tended to alienate them from their peers and the Mastersâ frequent doting did nothing to help. But Alek had always been the exception to this rule, providing a shoulder to lean on or a sympathetic ear when everyone else was being too juvenile or demanding for the prodigyâs preference. Four years as his friendâs closest confidant made it painful for Alek to realize that he was being suddenly and inexplicably shut out, just like everyone else.
But then, maybe it wasnât so inexplicable. Despite Phaetinâs insistence that the pairâs friendship was fine, things had been different since that night in the grove. Sex always had the potential to change relationships, which was why Alek had been reluctant to initiate anything in the first place. If his best friend was suddenly pushing him away, it was likely because the dynamic between them had drastically changed. In reality, theyâd never had a meaningful discussion about where they stood and what Alek interpreted as hectic schedules inadvertently separating the pair was actually conscious rejection. What heâd assumed was a promissory kiss may have been an apologetic farewell.
Grabbing his clothes from where they lay near his bunk he quickly tossed them on to Xasetâs amusement.Â
âSo, we are going after them?â
âNo! I just⊠Iâm going to wait for them to get back so that I can ask what the hells is going on. Just to make sure that theyâre alright.â
âUh-huh.â Rolling his eyes, the other Padawan flopped onto Alekâs bed. âThey were in an awful mood when they left. Probably better that they bite your head off than mine.â
Leaving the other teen in the dorm, Alek rushed through the temple until he reached the sunroom on the first floor. For a moment he considered actually sneaking out to go after his friend, but quickly thought better. He had no idea where Phaetin had gone and spending hours fruitlessly searching Coruscantâs lower levels wasnât appealing. But if he just sat and waited he was guaranteed to know when his friend finally made it back to the temple. A quick walk to get some air wouldnât take much time and was no cause for alarm. But staying out into the early hours of the morning was an unquestionable sign that something was afoot⊠and that Phaetin had potentially found someone else to spend time with. As frustrating as the wait would be, it seemed like the best plan. Even if it did include an excruciating amount of time attempting and failing miserably at meditation.
Luckily, answers arrived surprisingly quickly. A little over an hour after Alek settled in for a long and sleepless night, a slender figure approached the loose window and attempted to slip through unnoticed. They would have succeeded if someone hadnât been anticipating this very moment. The second the prodigy set foot inside the temple they were nearly tackled by their best friend.
âPhaetin! Where the hells did you go?!â Relief washed over Alek in warm waves, mostly because the other teenâs rapid return indicated that they were not sneaking away to meet someone else.
âAhh! Shit!â Jumping back, the prodigy fumbled with a small package. âWhat the hells, Squint? Were you sitting here waiting for me?!â
âYes! Youâve been acting weird, and Xaset told me that you snuck out, and I was worried that you were⊠Anyway, that doesnât matter. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and not fainting in the middle of the lower levels and, um⊠hey! What are you holding?â
âNothing!â Shoving the package behind their back, Phaetin scowled as they backed away from their friend. âItâs none of your business!âÂ
Any hope Alek had swiftly sank as the older Padawan continued being evasive. âIf thatâs supplies for another prank on Kavar, I should probably remind you that after the gizka incident he has no issue blaming us for anything that goes wrong, even without proof.â
âThis isnât for some childish prank!â Continuing to back away, the prodigy snarled, âShit Squint, grow up! And while youâre at it, stop asking me prying questions, stop karking following me everywhere, and for once in my life just leave me the hells alone! Kriff, youâre so annoying. Why canât you just go away and stay away?!â
The words hurt worse than any hit and Alek stumbled back, wounded. He tried to sense his friendâs emotions, but the older Padawanâs shields were up and the only hint he could see was an absolutely outraged expression. âIs⊠is that what you really wantâŠ?âÂ
âYES!â Whirling around, Phaetin didnât look back as they raced out of the room. This time, their best friend didnât attempt to follow.
Author's Note: This is a small portion of a multi-chapter, multi-part fic. It's Revlek and has nothing to do with my other work(s). Go me.
This part takes place ~7 years before the Mandalorian Wars. Phaetin (Revan) is 17 and Alek (Malak) is 16. They are teenagers and infinitely good at bad decision-making. Warning for drunken teens not being mindful.
The whole story spans about 15 years, leading up to and including the plot of KOTOR. (Granted, it's very AU at that point.) It's an exploration of how one really questionable decision made by two fairly drunken teenagers changes everything and nothing.
(FYI - Phaetin's name is a play on Hepaestion, who was the closest confidant and possible lover of Alexander the Great. I was going for a theme, of sorts. )
âHey, come on! Youâve gotta share. You canât hog it all to yourself!â Grinning sloppily, Phaetin held out their hand.
But Alek just rolled his eyes as he took another swig from the bottle, wincing as the contents burned their way down. âYouâre drunk.â
âUh-huh. And what does that make you?â
âHmm. Youâve got a point.â With a snort, the taller teen handed over the last of the alcohol, a deceptively strong liquor that Phaetin had somehow managed to purchase from a local farmer.
Grinning as they tossed back the last swallow, the teen managed to resist the urge to cough as the clear liquid seared its way into their gut. âStars, that is potent.â
âWhat is it?â
âHells if I know!â
The pair stared at each other for an instant before bursting out into laughter. Through his drunken giggles, Alek managed to ask, âSo, how is this for a celebration?â
Flopping onto their back, Phaetin stared up at the blanket of stars that illuminated the sky, individual arms of the galaxy visible between the hazy wisps of clouds. It was a beautiful night, the air still warm but just crisp enough to hint at the coming autumn. âIt could definitely be worse. Helps that the companyâs not all that bad.â
âHappy to help.â With a lopsided grin, Alek tried and failed not to stare at his best friend. Sprawled like this, the other teen was a feast of dark hair and long limbs, both inviting and forbidden. With his inhibitions lowered, the temptation to reach out and touch⊠to even steal a taste⊠was stronger than ever. He balled his fits in the grass to fight the urge.
The pair was currently sprawled at the edge of the Ancient Grove on Dantooine, an area that was popular for meditation during the day. But at night the ruins scattered amongst the blba trees were mostly deserted, especially closer to the fields where the kath hounds roamed. While the secluded nature of the grove could prove dangerous after dark, it was also one of the few private places in an enclave full of Jedi.Â
It was the teensâ last night at the academy. Normally this wouldnât be an event worth noting, especially since most Padawans visited other temples multiple times a year. Yet somehow, this departure felt different. Meetra had already predicted that this might be the last time sheâd see the other Jedi for a while, making the same vague allusions to Phaetinâs impending ascension to Knighthood that the Masters had been whispering for months. She was probably repeating rumors but it didnât make her prediction less ominous, a reminder that Phaetin and Alekâs time as near-constant companions was quickly coming to an end.
The older Padawan was sensitive about the subject, either denying the possibility that Knighthood was looming dangerously close or growing snappish at any mention of their future. If Alek was in full possession of his faculties, heâd have been tactful enough not to broach the subject. Unfortunately, he was drunk.
âHey, what do you think is going happen when we get back to Coruscant?â
Eyes fixed on the sky, Phaetin slurred, âThe same as usual. Kavar is going to double our training schedule to âmake up for lost timeâ and Vrook will drag me away for âadvanced studiesâ about some topic that he barely understands.â
âAre you sure about that? You donât thinkâŠ?â
Struggling upright, the older teen scoffed, âAlek, Iâm a prodigy, as everyone keeps reminding me. Of course I know what the Masters have planned.â
âCome on, be serious for a minute.â
âI donât have to be serious, Iâm drunk.â Scowling, Phaetin leaned in. âIâm drunk because weâre supposed to be celebrating.â
This close, Alek could see the doubt that filled his friendâs dark eyes and the near-panic that tugged at their expression. Even their tightly-controlled presence shivered with trepidation. Part of the younger teen wanted to change the conversation, but the subject had been worrying him for the entire trip despite his attempts to release those emotions into the Force. âWhat⊠exactly are we celebrating?â
âYou know, having time away from everything. A chance to be ourselves. To⊠not think about whatever bantha shit comes next!â
The last of Phaetinâs false bravado was falling away as frustration swirled within a miasma of self-doubt. Alekâs hand was resting near his friendâs and he was tempted to link their fingers together and pull the other teen close, to hold them tight and somehow protect them from the machinations of whatever the Force had in store. But the alcohol buzzing through his body made his limbs feel rooted in place as he muttered, âMaybe⊠maybe we should think about whatâs next.â
Pressing into their friendâs space, Phaetin snarled, âWhy? Why canât I just have one kriffing night without someone wondering about my karking future?!â
âBecauseâŠâ Drunkenness made Alekâs words jumble in his brain and he struggled to find the answer. Because you have so much potential. Because youâre a prodigy and youâre destined to leave me behind. Because I donât want to lose you.
Before he could form an actual response, Phaetin surged forward and pressed their lips together. The kiss was sloppy and bitter with liquor, yet it was everything Alek had yearned for. He paused for an instant from pure shock, unable to process that this was anything but a dream. But desire took over and he quickly leaned in, tangling his fingers in soft brown waves as his other arm wrapped tightly around his friendâs waist. Phaetin whimpered, lips parting enough for their tongue to dart out. Alek deepened the kiss, finally experiencing a seemingly impossible dream.
But then the younger teenâs brain caught up to his body. Rapidly breaking away he covered his mouth as though it would prevent him from making any more mistakes. Yes, this had been his deepest desire for many years. But his friend had never shown the same inclinations and the sudden change of heart when notably drunk was alarming. While the moment was sure to be pleasurable, the potential for regret once their heads cleared was daunting.
âPhae⊠this isnât what you want.â
âWhy does everyone insist on telling me what I want?! If Iâm such a genius, shouldnât I be able to think for myself?â
âThatâs not what I⊠Youâve never wanted this before.â
âMaybe Iâve never really thought about it. That doesnât mean that I donât want it now that I have.â Phaetin slid closer as they ran a palm up their friendâs thigh, grinning as they sensed the arousal this caused. âIsnât this what you want?â
Alek barely managed to nod as most of his blood rushed south from just one touch. âStars, yes!â
Slipping into the other teenâs lap, Phaetin leaned in until their lips were nearly touching as they murmured, âThen come on, Squint. Letâs celebrate.â
