Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Ebon Hawk was dark, the silence nearly as stifling as the humidity on Lehon. 

A galaxy saved, a Sith Lord defeated, and yet everything was as uncertain as ever. An unnatural silence had fallen upon the Ebon Hawk, a nearly palpable tension that drove the residents of the ship into their respective hiding places. Jolee had sought the safety of the sterile medbay while Mission hid in the smuggling compartment with a stack of holovids. Canderous was tinkering with the blasters in the garage, the familiar tck tck of the wrench against metal a comfort despite the agitated way the Mandalorian worked.

Juhani was mediating in the dormitory, Zaalbar was double checking their supplies (also known as eating them), the droids were at their posts doing whatever it was they did while the rest of the crew slept. (In the case of HK, most likely plotting their deaths for once they landed on Coruscant). Now that she really thought about it, she needed to speak to Carth about the assassin droid once he’d managed to stop pacing a hole into her ship.

There was one presence that’d left a chilly emptiness behind, an eerie silence that only reminded Revan of the weeks when Bastila had been Malak’s prisoner, unreachable through the bond they’d had. During the ensuing chaos that followed, Revan could ignore the figurative gaping hole in her chest. She didn’t have to examine what it meant, what Bastila meant, to not the war or the Jedi, but to her. 

To everyone on the Ebon Hawk.

She was important, there was no doubt on that fact. Her battle mediation made her a threat to the Jedi and Sith both, each side wanting to harness that power to bolster their forces. As if the power was something that could be controlled, that it wasn’t also attached to a living, breathing human being. Not that the Sith cared for much beyond power and control, but that wasn’t the point.

Bastila wasn’t the only Jedi capable of great things; Revan herself was once considered one such being. But she’d never met a more self-sacrificing Jedi in her entire life. Bastila was willing to suffer for others, even for Revan, a person who’d caused unfettered destruction upon the galaxy. She’d found a person to save in Darth Revan, and thought that perhaps she might save Malak as well.

In the end, all it did was put the weight of the galaxy on a young woman’s shoulders that didn’t need to be there in the first place, and ultimately, it’d destroyed the light within her.

The cockpit was as quiet as the rest of the ship, lights flashing along the console in blues and whites that mimicked the stars outside of the viewport. It took a moment for Revan’s eyes to adjust to the difference in lighting, but she immediately spotted Bastila as she sat in her usual seat, legs tucked close to her body. She’d wrapped her arms around herself, the brown Jedi robes a few sizes too big now, the starvation and torture at the hands of the Sith doing more than just physical damage. 

Shuffling her feet to make some sort of noise (she didn’t need to surprise her by lurking in the darkness), Revan moved toward the navicomputer, trying to avoid openly staring at the way Bastila’s hair hung limply against her shoulders, the knot she usually kept it in untied. Or how she was paler than usual, dark circles etched into the skin beneath her eyes. There was a permanent haunted expression on her face, as if she saw nightmares in the dark recesses of her mind, even while awake.

Rescue from the clutches of the Sith was difficult enough after the ordeal she’d been through, but Revan knew what it was like to feel rudderless, to feel like a failure in the one thing you were supposed to be good at. And to know that your failure ended in the deaths of so many people, the guilt weighed more than the responsibility had before.

Revan glanced at the navicomputer, every sense on alert: her entire body aware when Bastila shifted against the synthleather seat, the old frame squeaking slightly at the movement. Her breaths were uneven, not erratic as if she was panicking, but there was a tension in each breath she took, as if her lungs wouldn’t fill to capacity.

How painful, after everything they’d been through, when she couldn’t even ask her if she was alright. Peace was permanently destroyed for Bastila Shan, and no matter how much she may try, there might never been a chance for her to find it again.

Humming low in her throat, Revan dimmed the brightness of the navicomputer, hoping it would ease Bastila’s fears enough that she might sleep sometime during the night cycle. Though, if her nightmares were anything like the ones she had when she closed her eyes, Revan understood the desire to avoid them by any means possible.

The blinking lights that marked their trajectory burned her eyes as she stared at them amid the ever present darkness, wishing she could reach out and touch some part of who Bastila was beneath the pain and fear and guilt. To have her know that she wasn’t alone anymore, that she wouldn’t let her be alone anymore if that was what she wished. 

Revan knew enough of regret to understand how easily the mental toll could become physical, affecting the body, the mind, how each breath became harder no matter how much air you took into your lungs, how each time you attempted sleep, it eluded you. How the nightmares existed around every corner, shadows dancing out of the corners of your eyes, a coldness that crept up on a person and got into their very being.

There were times when she wondered what it would feel like to surrender to the dark again, to turn away from everything she’d known, believed, and let the revenge she’d longed for control her. To get revenge for everything Malak had done to Bastila, to the Enclave. To Taris, a place she’d once known, long ago, but now, could never completely remember no matter how much she tried.

Sometimes, she wished this evil that curled inside of her would disappear completely. Otherwise, it might consume her once more and she might just let it.

“Revan?”

Her name on Bastila’s tongue was soft, as if her very utterance would send them both spinning into madness. Maybe she already was mad. Maybe it was the better way to go, at the end of it all, here with Bastila.

Glancing through the cyan glow of the lights, she noticed Bastila watching her, slender fingers curling into the folds of her robes. She was like a startled animal, too afraid to leave her spot on the chair, but if she made one wrong move, she might flee…. Or attack. 

What was she supposed to do? Or say, for that matter? Revan had known her own taste of darkness before, wanted to wrap her hands around Malak’s throat and choke the life out of him on the bridge of the Leviathan, but Bastila had been there to pull her back. And no matter how angry she was at her for withholding the truth about who she truly was, no matter how many mistakes she’d made over the course of time they’d spent together aboard the Ebon Hawk, Revan knew that Bastila Shan had the best interest of the galaxy in mind.

She’d never met a more maddeningly stubborn woman in her entire life.

Yet the woman who sat in front of her now was a shell of the Jedi she’d once been.

Time stretched between them, taut as if it would snap at the slightest touch. Bastila’s eyes had shifted away from Revan’s face, a shadow crossing hers as she searched for a lifeline to hold onto. Anything that could help ground her to this new reality. But all that was left behind was a past rife with torment and an uncertain future.

Trying to find some way to spare her more pain, Revan attempted a distraction, anything to keep her from thinking of the bad things. “I’ve spoken to Dustil. I know you… you were worried about him.”

Silence greeted her words. Not a single reaction to the reminder of what they’d found on Korriban: not a blink of an eye or a glance in her direction. No flinches nor quick movements. No tight breath or mournful sigh.

Perhaps, that was the most concerning part of this new Bastila: how empty she seemed.

“He’s left Korriban. Doesn’t exactly know what he’s going to do with his new freedom, but he convinced a few of the other apprentices to leave.” Despite everything left unsaid between him and his son, Carth was proud of the person Dustil was becoming. No matter how much he tried to hide it from the rest of them, he had hope once more and most of that was Bastila’s influence. “Without your guidance and friendship, I doubt many of us would be here now.”

That got a reaction out of her. She visibly swallowed, a nervous motion that Revan immediately recognized. She shifted almost imperceptibly, but she’d gotten good at reading her over the last few weeks. She was uncomfortable and was having a difficult time hiding it.

“Friends.” A huff of breath escaped her mouth, as if she hadn’t considered them friends at all, and she wet her lips, trying to find the words to respond. “I’m not sure I can be anyone’s friend. I don’t even who I’m supposed to be anymore.”

Revan rested her arms against the back of Carth’s pilot’s chair, watching Bastila in the quiet. She wouldn’t meet her gaze, eyes focused on the stars past the viewport. Her fingers were curled into the folds of her robe, her grip white knuckled and tense. But she’d responded, that was the first step.

“Who says you have to be anything but a person?”

“Is that what I am?” She whispered, voice strained as she closed her eyes, looking older than she’d ever had before. “I don’t feel very human.”

She wished she could reach out to comfort her, for both of their sake. Even at her lowest point, Revan had never seen anyone as sad as Bastila Shan was in that moment.

“You aren’t a machine.” She paused, waiting for Bastila to finally glance at her again, grey eyes reflecting the blue of the consoles. Two of her favorite stars to gaze upon. “I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise, Bastila. But it doesn’t make it less true.”

“I’ve only ever been a tool for others. My mother, the Jedi, Malak. I…” She trailed off, dropping her gaze to her hands where the scars of chains still marked her wrists. They’d always be a reminder of the things she’d suffered at the hands of the Sith. Of Malak.

“It’s okay to be angry. You’re allowed to be upset about what happened to you.” Revan spun the pilot’s chair around, taking the chance to sit and meet her gaze head on, without fear or hesitation. Bastila’s biggest flaw was her inability to realize that she was more than a Jedi, more than her powers. Dangling her hands between her knees, she had to fight the impulse to touch her. Twining her fingers together, Revan let her words hang in the space between them, hoping some part of what she’d said settled in Bastila’s mind.

To her surprise, Bastila didn’t glance away, slanting those haunting grey eyes at her, as if the very thought she voiced was insanity. “Revan-”

The sound of her name on Bastila’s tongue set her heart stuttering in her chest and for a brief moment, she almost forgot about the horrors they’d witnessed from the Sith, from Malak. She was staring at Revan like before… before the day she’d almost lost her forever. “You’re worth more than this, Bastila.”

“Worth more than what?” She hissed, the fury rolling off of her in waves, eyes wild as she reached out to grab her by the wrist, her next sentence dripping from her mouth like venom. “I’ve done unforgivable acts, hurt the people I cared for most. Taris is gone because of me! And Dantooine-” Reminder of what Malak had done to the Enclave made her pause, a sound between a hiccup and a sob coming from her throat.

Revan didn’t think Bastila even realized she’d grabbed her, her grip tightening almost painfully. The touch of Bastila’s cold skin against hers was almost scalding, the iciness of her fingers curling around her wrist reminding her of how much healing they had left to do. The dark side still slithered beneath Bastila’s skin, the veins dark against pale skin, scars that went deeper than flesh imprinted on her entire being. 

Revan glanced down at where Bastila touched her, unable to resist covering her hand with her own. Her warmth helped to dissipate both the chill of Bastila’s skin and the fire of her anger, dousing it as quickly as it’d arrived. Her shoulders fell, her body curling in on itself, as if trying to make herself disappear altogether. Bastila needed to heal, but she couldn’t do that if she denied herself feeling anything at all. 

“You don’t do halfway, do you?”

Those grey eyes studied her briefly, expression shifting to confusion the longer she thought about the question. “Whatever you are attempting to say-”

Revan let out a small laugh, unable to stop herself, and Bastila’s nose scrunched up in frustration. When she attempted to pull her hand away, Revan gripped it a little firmer, shaking her head and trying to keep from laughing again. “Bastila, wait-”

“I will not sit here and be made fun of-”

“I’m not making fun of you, darling.” Revan couldn’t stop a soft smile from appearing on her mouth, a response to how easily agitated Bastila got. Some things never changed, even after everything else had. The pet name made her pause, glancing away as if it shamed her to be called something so affectionate. Revan hesitated, afraid of scaring her away, but what she needed to say was too important to be ignored. Bastila was struggling against the dark side still, and she wouldn’t let her lose herself again. “You think you don’t deserve happiness. That emotion, any emotion, is something to be ignored, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? If you deny feeling anything at all: happiness, anger, fear… love… that’s what will corrupt you. Indifference is worse than being angry once in a while.”

Bastila stared at Revan as if she’d only just seen her. And was questioning her sanity at the same time.

“You try too hard to be this perfect stoic Jedi Master that you forget that you’re also human. Give yourself a little grace. You deserve some peace in this galaxy.”

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

Revan removed her hands from Bastila’s, leaning back into the seat, the chair’s cushions welcoming her back to the helm. Bastila waited for Revan to speak, appearing more confused than she’d been before. In the aftermath of her torture with the Sith, with nothing but anger as her motivator, Revan wasn’t expecting her to understand. Only for her to listen to what she said and then decide on her own path.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Flexing her fingers, she tried to ignore the tingling in her skin where Bastila had touched her. 

Bastila stared at her, mouth slightly agape, before shaking her head. “How can you trust that I won’t snap and kill you where you stand?”

It was a possibility, always had been, she supposed, but there was one issue with Bastila’s question. Revan was tied to Bastila for the rest of their lives, force bond or no. Because Revan would never give up on her as long as she lived.

“I’ll sit here in the dark for as long as you’d like, Bastila.”

With a scoff, a soft smile curled Bastila’s lips, an image that Revan committed to memory. It was the first smile she’d given since before the Leviathan. “You fool.”

“A fool I may be, but I’m your fool all the same.” 

Bastila fumbled to reach for her hand, but Revan easily locked their fingers together, feeling hope again for the first time in so long, that it nearly choked her. There was too much to say and so little time before they arrived at Coruscant. For now, however, they could bask in the stillness of a galaxy saved.