Chapter Text
A myriad of events seemed to happen simultaneously, all of them important and yet none of them breaking through the dreadful calm that had settled over Alek’s mind. He impassively watched as Onasi picked off two of the riflemen in rapid succession, all of the levity gone from the teen’s face as grave concern billowed frigidly around him. At the same time, Meetra appeared from the shadows with her silver lightsaber expertly clutched in one hand as she charged the trio of gangsters still trapped in her stasis field. The weapon hummed as she stabbed it through a Human’s chest, their life blinking out within the Force. But none of this held the former Sith’s attention.
Several meters away, Saquesh was lording over his fallen opponent, coldly observing as the teen struggled to stand. Blood dripped from both knife wounds, the droplets soaking into the dark, loamy soil. Pain was etched across Deran’s face, his agony and fear flowing into the surrounding Force like a tidal wave. Or maybe that was Alek’s own terror as he saw his friend rise to his knees only to fall over when the Quarren delivered a swift kick to his ribs right above where one hilt jutted from his body. The high-pitched yelp of pain was so raw and child-like that it cut through all of the former Sith’s thoughts until all he could focus on was the slender, dark-haired figure who, despite the pain, was glaring up at his opponent with a snarl of absolute ferocity.
Alek didn’t even realize that the stun had worn off and he was striding forward until he nearly tripped over one of the dead gangsters, his limbs still sluggish and heavy from the bolt’s lingering effects. Distantly he was aware that another round had pierced him in the shoulder but he barely felt it, his focus narrowed down to the sight of Saquesh drawing another dagger and pointing it directly at Deran’s throat. Even in his weakened, the prodigy managed to use the Force to shove his opponent’s hand back, nearly disarming the knife. At the same time, he tried to summon his dropped lightsaber to parry the next hit. But his injuries slowed his reaction time and the ‘saber hilt was still in midair when the Quarren swooped down shockingly quickly, adjusting the throwing blade to deliver one final blow…
But Alek was faster. The air crackled as lightning erupted from his fingers, burning white-hot with the power of his fury. It raced forward with an electric scream, striking Saquesh in the side just as his knife drew the first drop of blood from Deran’s neck. The Exchange leader’s triumphant chuckle turned to a scream, his body shaking uncontrollably as energy coursed through his system. Drawing back his hand, the former Sith gave his victim a brief reprieve as he stalked forward, watching amusedly as the Quarren sighed with relief an instant before being struck with another burst of electricity. He didn’t have to see his own face to know that his expression was lined with rage, his eyes likely fading to a sickly gray as he quietly delighted in each scream his lightning drew forth. Only when he was looming over his victim did Alek relent, reaching out to grasp Saquesh by the tunic.
“M… Malak. Supreme Commander. I… We… can make… a deal.” The Quarren’s limbs were still twitching, his gaze glassy and unfocused.
Lifting Saquesh off the ground so they were at eye level, Alek shook his head. “I gave you a chance to escape with your life. You didn’t take it.” Raising his lightsaber, he slowly pressed the tip against his victim’s abdomen. “Now, you die.”
One of the first things that Alek learned as a Jedi was control. He’d always been big for his age with a penchant for blurting out the wrong thing at inopportune moments. This led to incidents where he accidentally broke things or hurt feelings due to carelessness. As an Initiate, he was taught to be aware of his capabilities so that he could be mindful, especially when interacting with others. Unlike Deran, his path to being a Guardian had been clear from an early age, and the Masters had insisted his unique power came with a different type of responsibility. He had to think before speaking and, more importantly, control his immense strength.
As a Sith, Alek had appreciated those lessons because they made him far more effective at torturing others. While he could have ended Saquesh’s life with a simple jerk of his forearm, he dragged out the ordeal, gradually moving the burning plasma through muscle and tissue with near-surgical precision. The stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils and he savored each shout of pain and terror, the emotions making the surrounding Force grow almost unbearably cold. But he wasn’t delighting in his victim’s agony for the twisted joy of it, not like his time as the Supreme Commander. In this situation, he merely found satisfaction because the Quarren had hurt Deran and thus was owed that pain back tenfold.
Only when the orange blade of Alek’s lightsaber had leisurely carved almost straight through Saquesh’s abdomen did the screaming stop, the body falling lax. Looking at it with both fury and disgust, the former Sith tossed it aside and extinguished his weapon before turning to check on the others.
Working together, Meetra and Onasi had managed to disarm and round up the remaining four Exchange members, clustering them together and holding them at blaster and ‘saber-point. The gangsters and the teens were watching Alek with unrestrained horror but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Leave one piece of scum alive to return to Nar Shadda and tell the rest of the Exchange what happened so that they’ll stop chasing you. Kill the others.”
“Squint!” Meetra’s voice was desperate. “They’re unarmed prisoners. Killing them isn’t the Jedi way and we’re not going to do it!”
“Do I look like a kriffing Jedi? Onasi, get it done!”
Ever the good soldier, the cadet tentatively raised his main pistol to one of the gangsters’ heads only to hesitate. Before he could pull the trigger a slim hand grasped his wrist with strength that was clearly augmented through the Force.
“Fleet, no!” Tugging the other teen’s arm down, Meetra shook her head. “We can let them all go, they won’t bother us again. I can convince them to leave us alone from now on…”
Alek didn’t have time for the adolescents’ moral dilemmas. If the blonde wanted to mind-trick a bunch of gangsters into temporarily ceasing their search for her, she was welcome to. Her adult self would certainly kill them the next time they came after her. Shaking his head, the former Sith shifted his focus to the prodigy who was now desperately clutching his ‘saber hilt as he limped away, a trail of blood shining in his wake.
“Deran, no! Stop!” Rushing forward, Alek raced toward the teen to hold him still so that the knife wounds could be examined. The blades were long, but there was still a chance that nothing vital had been hit and the worst of the damage could be healed with a stimpack and some rest.
As a large hand tried to grasp him Deran shied away, igniting his lightsaber and stumbling back toward the ship. His breaths were wet and shallow, and he didn’t get far before collapsing, his palms so slick with blood that his weapon nearly slipped from his grasp.
Reaching out his awareness, Alek acknowledged that the teens’ fear was directed entirely at him. Regret poured forth and he sucked in a sharp breath, his shoulders slumping as he accepted that he had undoubtedly earned this reaction. For the last two days, he’d been trying to be a better person, desperately drawing upon what light he had left to guide his actions in the hopes that these adolescent versions of his allies would trust him. But he wasn’t actually ‘Knight Naver’. The real him was lightning and darkness, a tyrant with a mechanical face feared by the entire galaxy. It was inevitable that his rage would shatter the fragile trust it had taken him days to build.
“Deran, I’m sorry, I lost control! I know that’s not an excuse and you have every right to be afraid of me right now. But I really need to examine those wounds. I won’t hurt you. I would never…” Wincing, Alek recalled that Vann had a very large and ugly scar that proved that he was fully capable of harming his friend. He’d only seen it once, but that had been enough to make his stomach churn.
Still trying to crawl across the ground, the teen was pale and sweating as the fingers of his free hand dug ineffectively into the dirt. The thin, strained breaths he was taking sounded even more pained, likely due to the fresh panic that was threatening to overtake him. “You… you…” Nodding towards the Quarren’s corpse, he turned an accusing glare toward the former Sith.
“I know, I’m a monster.” Alek’s voice was calm only because of the vocabulator. “But I’m also the only one here with any experience in battlefield triage and you currently have two knives sticking out of your chest. So, please let me look before you die of your own stubbornness.”
It was probably pain that finally made Deran acquiesce, exhaustion washing over him as he slumped onto his back. Laying in that position immediately made his breathing worse, the reason made clear as his robes were carefully peeled away. One of the knives had struck fairly high between his ribs, in the perfect location to puncture one of his lungs. He was currently drowning in a mixture of air and his own blood.
Trying to keep his expression neutral, Alek fought a sense of vertigo as he recalled the multitude of times he’d treated his friend in the field during the war. At least back then he could heal using the Force. “This isn’t great, but we can fix it. Meetra!”
“We let them all go.” The Consular scowled as she approached, her movements tentative until she saw the other Jedi’s concerning condition. “Oh shit. That’s not good.”
“Having knives sticking out of your chest is usually bad for your health. But you can heal, right?”
“Yes, but… Er.” Crouching down, Meetra whispered, “I’ve never healed anything this bad before. Mostly just some cuts and burns, plus a couple of broken fingers.”
“I’ve healed worse and trust me when I say it’s not so different.”
“Then when don’t you heal him?”
“Because I can’t! I lost the ability a few years back after… After I fell. You saw me, you know what I am.” Turning to the blonde, Alek tried to give her a reassuring smile with his eyes even as Deran wheezed and glared vibroknives into his skull. “He needs you right now.”
Swallowing hard, Meetra squared her shoulders and focused her presence. “I can try.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Glancing over at the cadet hovering nearby while wearing a helpless expression, Alek ordered, “Onasi, go into the ship’s medical bay. There should be a small supply of stimpacks and at least one medkit. Bring out what you can carry. If everything else fails, we can get enough kolto into these wounds to keep him stable until we fly somewhere with healers or an actual medical facility.”
“Got it!” the teen called as he sprinted towards the Hawk, clearly glad to be useful.
“Meetra, I just need you to focus and try your best. I’m going to pull the knives out and then use the Force to help put pressure on the wounds. It will keep Deran from bleeding out, but it’s going to hurt. I wish I could say this is the first time I’ve had to do this but…” Memories of Duro ran through Alek’s mind, a battle that resulted in the Revanchist leader taking a bad blaster wound to the inner thigh that nicked his femoral artery. He’d almost bled out, a fact that had been kept secret from both the Mandalorians and the holonet reporters. “You’ve met him, right?”
That tiny hint of levity made their patient roll his eyes, but it also sent a bright flicker of amusement through Meetra’s presence that she instantly drew upon. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Deran, I’ll count to three. If you think you’re in pain now, just wait. I’d give you a tranquilizer but for now, I need you awake.” Grasping the hilts of both knives, Alek made sure that he had a firm grasp on them before slowly saying, “On three. One. Two. Three!”
The scream of pain was enough to send chills down Alek’s back, but he didn’t let it distract him from his task. Blood was already pouring from the wounds as he tossed the knives to the ground. Holding a hand over each gash, he applied just enough physical pressure to augment the push he was sending through the Force. It was more exact this way, holding blood and major organs in place without doing as much damage to the surrounding tissue. While it required concentration and precision, what Meetra was doing was infinitely harder.
Breathing deeply, the Consular closed her eyes as she channeled her innate connection to the Force. Both hands began to glow bright white as healing energy flowed through them, weak at first but rapidly growing stronger. Placing her palms against Deran’s chest, she sent the power into him, directing it towards the wounds that Alek was holding shut. Slowly, the flesh began to knit back together.
“Good, very good,” Alek encouraged. “But don’t force the energy into him. Let it pulse naturally between you like another heartbeat.”
The rapid flow of power instantly slowed, becoming a gentler stream that thrummed soothingly, its presence vibrant and bright. Deran was already breathing easier, though his voice was still weak as he mumbled, “You know, I almost had that squid.”
Alek ignored the comment. “Don’t worry about healing everything. With an injury this large, there might be some residual damage that’s better treated with kolto and rest .” After Duro, getting Deran to relax so he could fully heal was a challenge that ultimately resulted in the discovery of two Star Forge maps. Research had been the only thing appealing enough to keep him off the battlefield.
Healing energy continued to stream from Meetra’s hands and Alek intuitively sensed the Force energy had done its job. As he gently removed his palms from Deran’s chest he saw that the wounds had closed beautifully thanks to the Consular’s endevors. The same effort was now causing sweat to bead on her brow and above her lip as her shoulders sagged with fatigue. Offering the girl a grateful nod, Alek assured her, “You did it. He’s fine… or at least as fine as he’ll ever be.” Casting an admonishing glare at Deran, he ignored the scoff that he received in return. “Don’t exhaust yourself.”
Drawing a slow breath, Meetra drew back her power and lifted her hands to examine her friend’s injuries. While dried blood still covered his skin, the once-jagged gashes had become nothing more than reddish-pink scars that would fade even more with time. She smiled. “Look at that, almost as good as new. And with two reminders not to be so careless in the future.”
Even if the scars remained it was doubtful that Vann would have any more survival instinct than his teenage self, but Alek didn’t voice that opinion. “Alright Deran, try sitting up slowly. You might feel a bit light-headed since you did lose a lot of blood.”
Struggling upright, the prodigy coughed a few times as he regained his bearings. Running his fingers over the marks that now marred his chest, he glanced confusedly at his former friend. “How does someone like you know anything about healing?”
“You mean a Sith?”
“No, I mean a Guardian .”
Chuckling at this, Alek nodded. Most Guardians learned abilities that augmented them on the battlefield by enhancing their speed or shielding them from damage. Healing required a level of patience and understanding that many couldn’t summon. “I learned during the war. There was a kolto shortage and I wanted to be sure that my troops and other allies were taken care of. Meetra is actually the one who taught me.”
“Because I’m the Exile… or maybe I’m Revan.” Noting the surprise this assessment earned, the Consular added, “And Deran is whoever I’m not. Either way, we’re your, uh, your former teachers, aren’t we?”
“Er…”
“Okay, I have the… supplies.” Onasi was standing less than a meter away, holding a bag that contained a medkit and anything else he could grab from the medical bay. “Though, I’m guessing it’s not needed.”
“It is. Squint’s hurt and I’m not sure I have the energy to heal him, too.” Frowning, Meetra gestured to the various red stains marring the former Sith’s clothing. Some of the spots were steadily growing. “Did you… not notice?”
While Alek had noticed the pain, his connection to the dark side made him far more resistant to it than the average Jedi. While he didn’t have Vann’s ability to channel his rage into temporarily ignoring almost any injury, the blaster wounds he’d suffered weren’t grievous enough to bother him. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s a lot more blood than I’d consider ‘fine,’ even for someone your size.” Crouching beside the rest of the group, Onasi pulled out a stimpack and examined it for a moment before jabbing the syringe into the older man’s thigh without warning.
“Ow! What the hells? You’re supposed to tell someone before you do that!”
“If I did, you would’ve refused.” Shrugging, the cadet rooted around in the bag for a few more seconds before producing some gauze and a package of disposable antiseptic cloths. “Right now, everyone might want to wipe off some of that blood before you get back on the ship and contaminate everything.”
It took a bit for everyone to clean up, including Alek allowing Meetra to fuss over him with another stimpack and some wound salve. It felt unnecessary, especially considering how badly he’d scared her not an hour before. While they were treating these minor injuries and removing the startling amount of residual blood, the group discussed how to dispose of the bodies. Ultimately, they decided to move the corpses further into the jungle to allow nature to reclaim what it could, a strategy made more convenient by the realization that Alek already had to navigate through the thick foliage to reach his shuttle and retrieve a change of clothes. Using the Force to carry the literal dead weight made the job easier, though it didn’t spare anyone from the afternoon heat. By the time the task was complete, they were all sweating profusely.
As the group loaded back onto the ship, Alek noticed the scowls that Deran was still giving him. He sighed. “We should probably discuss some of the things that you heard and saw. I’m sure you have some more questions.”
“I think that you do, too.” When she received a curious look, Meetra noted, “You probably want to know how Deran recognized you, where we found those binders, and how we knew that there was so much information that you weren’t telling us.”
Humming mechanically, Alek conceded, “I wouldn’t mind knowing some of that.”
Hours later, after everyone was washed and changed, the makeshift crew finally sat down together in the main hold. Alek was the first to break the tension. “So, you probably want to know more about Malak, Revan, and the Exile.”
“I don’t need to know more. According to Meetra, I’m one of them and after watching you I think it’s pretty obvious what my future looks like.” The glare that Deran shot Alek was filled with the same sense of betrayal he’d worn right as Onasi had knocked the former Sith unconscious.
Meetra must have sensed the hostility, but she chose to ignore it. “Well, I’d like to know more.”
Considering that she’d destroyed two fleets and a planet, Alek doubted that she would enjoy hearing the details of her future. Still, he owed them all an explanation. “When Deran first petitioned the Council for permission to join the war against the Mandalorians, the holonet gave him the nickname ‘Revanchist’. It’s from an old word, revanchism, that refers to seeking retribution and regaining what’s been lost in war. At the time I thought it was overly dramatic, but…”
“He’s always enjoyed sensationalism.” Giggling at the frown she received from Deran, Meetra gestured for the former Sith to continue.
“Eventually the name ‘Revan’ came to mean many things to many people. It brought them hope and the courage to keep fighting. Though, to some, it represented proof that Jedi should never go to war. But before all of the symbolism, it was just a name that was easy to remember and alter on existing documents.” Noting the incredulous glances, Alek chuckled. “In the early days, while we were still gathering proof of the Mandalorian’s atrocities for the Council, we spent a lot of time undercover. But, since neither of us were Sentinels trained in the arts of forgery and adopting false personas, there were… complications.”
Onasi snorted back a laugh, clearly sensing where the story was headed.
“Charisma and quick thinking will only get you so far if you keep calling each other by the wrong name or your identifying documentation is obviously fake. While we improved dramatically in a very short time, it was still easier to keep things simple. Revan and Malak are remarkably close to Deran and Alek, both audibly and in writing.”
Humming thoughtfully, Meetra asked, “Did that Quarren know you as Malak because of your cover, or because of something else?”
“Revan and Malak eventually became our public identities. They weren’t just names anymore, they were a way to remind allies and enemies what we stood for. But the change also helped us to differentiate ourselves from the Jedi we’d been raised as and allowed us to step beyond the boundaries of the Order.”
“And to move beyond its light.” Rage flickered across Deran’s face, an irony considering that same anger enabled him to embrace his connection to the dark side.
“To move beyond its limitations .” Recalling the prodigy’s comments to Onasi back at the Rakata ruins, Alek explained, “In your own words, we wanted to see beyond what was logical and push the edge of what is possible.”
“That’s how we fell.”
It wasn’t untrue . The more they searched for hidden secrets of the Force, the easier it was to become something beyond Jedi. Something strong enough to survive nightmarish horrors and continue to persevere. “Pushing boundaries is also how you found the strength to survive not only the war but everything that came after, including the realization that military conflict is only a symptom of much larger problems.”
“Peace is far more delicate than most sentients realize.” Meetra gave the Guardians a pointed look. “I hope that you now have more respect for all of my ‘trade negotiations’.”
Deran didn’t notice the jab. All of his attention was trained on Alek, his voice dripping with justified accusation. “That Quarren said that you have a lot of blood on your hands… which I can believe. But what I don’t understand is why he called you ‘Supreme Commander’.”
“Er, right. That. After the war, I ah… I seized command of the military in a misguided attempt to protect the Republic from an even greater threat. I regret that decision, along with all of the mistakes that came after…” That was an understatement, but there was no way to express the former Sith’s shame over his fall and the many atrocities that followed. He’d never discussed the details with anyone present, even their adult selves, and he wasn’t about to start. Eyes sliding to the side, he muttered, “But then, I believe we all live with significant regret.”
“Do my regrets have anything to do with why I’m called ‘the Exile’?”
The bright, golden glow of Meetra at eighteen was still oddly painful. It was only Alek’s prosthesis that kept his tone even. “The events that led to your formal departure from the Jedi Order also convinced you to leave Republic space for several years. But because your files were classified most sentients you encountered didn’t know your real name, just your reputation.”
Frowning softly, the Consular’s voice was barely a whisper as she wondered, “What happened to make me leave?”
“You’ll be happier not knowing.” Fingering the hilt of his crimson lightsaber, Deran sighed. “I’m ashamed of almost everything that I’ve learned about myself.”
“The years immediately after the war were hard for us all and I don’t think any of us were pleased with the people we became. Yes, even you Onasi.” The atmosphere of the hold was distinctly anxious, the Force chilled with a faint but looming dread, and Alek felt guilty for giving the teens such a hopeless view of the future. Shifting uncomfortably, he cautiously added, “But over time you’ve created new lives for yourselves and found places where you truly belong. I’d even dare to say that you’re happy .”
Apparently sensing the former Sith’s own melancholy, Meetra placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “What about you, Squint? You’re happy, right?”
“I already told you, I’m alive which is more than I deserve.” Unwilling to dwell on his miserable existence, Alek turned away from the teens for several long seconds as he tried to collect himself and lighten the mood. “But that’s enough about my mistakes. I’d like to know how any of you managed to recognize me. I’m not exactly the boy you remember.”
It was Deran who tentatively answered, “While we were in the ruins you put me in stasis. At the time I didn’t notice anything but how angry I was, but later I realized that your use of the power felt familiar, a new version of something that I already knew so well. And later, when we were translating the Kel Dor texts, you kept brushing your presence against mine just like you’ve always done.” He looked thoughtful, some of his resentment fading as he murmured, “But it wasn’t until you figured out how the ritual worked and your eyes lit up that I just… I knew you.”
“I’m not that person anymore.”
“You’ve definitely changed… and not in a good way.” The contemplative expression deepened as the prodigy’s awareness drifted around Alek. “But it’s still you beneath all that darkness.”
The statement unsettled the former Sith, mostly because there was no possible way for it to be correct. Yet, there was no trace of a lie within the Force. While Deran could be manipulative, the words of reassurance that he offered others always found root in things that he genuinely believed. Though he sometimes infused them with embellishments it didn’t diminish the truths that the encouragement was built upon. So, if he claimed that his former friend was still Squint somewhere deep down, he genuinely believed it with all the veracity that a genius visionary could muster. Warmth settled in Alek’s chest, the feeling distracting and blissfully comforting all at once. He was so preoccupied by the sensation that he almost didn’t notice Onasi breaking the silence.
“Meetra figured out a lot of the hints that proved we’re in the future. Or, well, our future. I’m still not entirely sure of the specifications.”
“The main thing I noticed was that Atris looked older than I remembered. And, after Deran convinced us to take apart our weapons, I realized that I must have built this lightsaber. But the wiring techniques are far more sophisticated than anything I’m currently capable of.” Shrugging off her own deductions, the Consular glanced at the prodigy. “Of course, he’s the one who found more clues in the text you had us translate.”
Huffing at the praise, Deran grumbled, “It wasn’t hard. Once you combine all the pieces, it’s obvious that the Baran Do designed the ritual for fully mature adults to somehow channel their younger selves. Since you and Atris are a lot older than any of us remember, it makes sense that we should be an equivalent age. Which, obviously, also implies that we are the type of fully mature adults the ritual is designed for.” Noticing that Alek’s expression was growing increasingly exasperated, he blurted out, “It was Fleet who found all the stuff hidden on the ship!”
“Er, I was mostly just exploring!” Guilty rubbing the back of his neck, the cadet gestured to the bulkhead. “This is a highly customized Dynamic -class and I was curious what type of modifications had been made. I wasn’t trying to find the smuggling compartment but once I did, well… The others recognized some of the things in it.”
Scoffing, Meetra quipped, “There was way too much black clothing for it not to be Deran’s.”
“The binders, cables, and lock were just lying in the garage.” An amused smirk tugged at Onasi’s lips. “I’m not sure I want to know what we were doing in there as adults.”
“Considering who owns this ship, the answer is ‘hoarding junk’.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alek grumbled, “It’s good to know that I was thoroughly outsmarted by three adolescents.”
Meetra patted the former Sith’s shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. Deran has always been smarter than all of us.”
As the prodigy appeared torn between accepting the compliment and continuing to doubt his own ability, Onasi just looked curious. “Is, uh, is there anything else you can tell us about our lives? Do we have families? Kids?”
You have a son who you believed was dead for three years because of me . “There’s plenty more I can tell you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to. You have a rare chance to enjoy a few days without the burden of your adult lives. Enjoy it. Force willing you’ll be back to your actual ages tomorrow and you’ll have all of the memories that come with it.” Except for Vann who, because of me, has almost no memories at all.
Slouching petulantly at the lack of answers, Meetra arched a brow. “So, what are we supposed to do until then?”
“I don’t know. Be eighteen for a few more hours.” Vaguely recalling how impulsive he’d been at that age, Alek winced. “Just… don’t do anything that your adult selves are going to regret.”
“Like getting stabbed?” Onasi cast a disapproving glance at Deran that was almost identical to the looks he gave his partner as an adult.
Seeing that, as usual, the prodigy showed no sign of remorse, Alek rolled his eyes. “I can honestly say that his adult self won’t see any problem with that.”
Strained but genuine laughter bubbled out of the adolescents, chasing away some of their tension. After startling revelations and a brush with death they all clearly needed to decompress, something that Alek didn’t know how to provide. The best he could offer was to leave them alone, so that’s what he did. While this increased the chance that they’d find a way to get into trouble, they had already managed a mutiny while under what he believed to be close supervision. Even worse, Deran had almost died while the former Sith was less than 10 meters away.
The teens might actually be better off without Alek watching over them, especially considering how anxious he currently felt. While the dark side had made Alek’s body more resistant to pain, his nerves frayed far quicker than they had during his time as a Jedi. While the original Baran Do ritual was supposed to end the next morning, there was no guarantee that would actually happen. As Atris had pointed out, the extenuating circumstances surrounding the situation and its unwitting participants meant there could easily be unforeseen complications. The original duration of three days may have been extended to three months… or even three decades. That thought made the former Sith shudder.
Eventually, Alek found himself shut inside of the starboard dormitory attempting and failing to slip into some semblance of meditation. The rush of teenage emotions flashing through the Force was distracting, especially for someone unused to being around Individuals who were still learning to completely shield their thoughts. Part of him was contemplating how to convince the teens to shoot him full of more sedatives when there was a knock at the door. Answering it revealed Meetra, a smirk on her lips and a faint flush to her cheeks.
“You said that we shouldn’t do anything that our adult selves might regret, right?”
Oh no . While there was a chance that the blonde was coming to admit her own mistake, it was more likely that she was trying to prevent someone else from making an irresponsible decision. Alek already knew who that ‘someone’ was. “What did Deran do this time?”
“You should probably just come with me.” There was a disturbing cheekiness to the way that Meetra practically skipped down the corridor and through the main hold, headed for the garage.
As he followed the Consular, Alek tried to mentally account for anything on the Hawk that Deran could tinker with to somehow ruin everyone’s day. In less than a minute the list was long enough to give the former Sith a headache, especially considering all of the tools and parts the adolescent had access to. Provided the hyperdrive was intact they might be alright, though any alterations to the main engines would still cause a problem. With a little luck, the prodigy was only tampering with non-essential parts of the freighter and all they’d have to contend with was a malfunctioning sonic or, Force-forbid, another murderous droid.
As she paused by the garage doorway Meetra put her finger to her lips, shushing Alek before she nodded into the room with a wide grin. Bracing himself for whatever mechanical horror he was about to find, the former Sith drew a slow breath before he cautiously peered around the doorframe. One hand hovered near his lightsaber just in case there was another HK-47 waiting to eliminate any bothersome ‘meatbags’.
What Alek found was the only thing he wasn’t prepared to handle. Sprawled languidly across an old blanket was Deran, his eyes closed as his lips moved very insistently against Onasi’s. The cadet was crouched beside him as calloused fingers tangled passionately in his hair. There were already a pair of lovebites marking the pale column of the Jedi’s throat, the red splotches even more obvious thanks to the fact that he was naked from the waist up. In contrast, Onasi was still mostly clothed though that clearly wasn’t going to last. His partner’s hands had already rucked up the back of his shirt so that they could cling tightly to his shoulders, short nails digging crescents into his flesh.
Breathlessly breaking away from the kiss, Deran threw his head back as he let out a low groan. The reason for this was quickly made obvious. Onasi’s hand, the one not grasping those long, dark tresses, had been slipped down the front of the Jedi’s pants and was visibly moving beneath the fabric. Another eager moan made the cadet grin wickedly before leaning down to once again capture his partner’s lips. As they resumed their wet, open-mouthed, desperate kissing, a few more sweet whimpers managed to escape.
A bright spark of pure pleasure was rapidly building in the Force and Alek hastily turned away from the scene as he jammed his mental walls into place. Fan-kriffing-tastic . On a purely ethical level, he should put a stop to this, if only because there was a twisted level of mental acrobatics required to comprehend that two people who had met in their thirties were currently having sex at age eighteen. The pair would probably find some reason to object to the situation once they were back to their correct ages and then proceed to blame him for letting them follow their libidos.
The urgent, panting whine that echoed through the garage shattered Alek’s resolve to be a responsible adult. Instead of marching into the room and yanking the pair apart, he stoically walked away. On a more technical level what Deran and Onasi did with their free time was absolutely none of his business. He knew for a fact that more than one Master had been aware of what the older Padawans got up to in the dorms and let it happen. Apparently, attachment-free orgasms were less offensive than other temptations like fear or anger.
On an extremely personal level, Alek was just too emotionally drained to care. He’d spent the day being shot, drugged, tied up, shot several more times, and then forced to relive aspects of his past that he still wasn’t ready to accept. He couldn’t bring himself to be concerned that two people who were romantic partners in their normal lives had met for a second time and decided to have consenting sex. Thanks to Dustil, he was aware that Onasi was experienced enough to not kriff things up and besides, Deran was more than capable of fending off some flyboy if something went wrong. Let them have their fun.
As he swept into the main hold, Alek could hear Meetra rushing up behind him. “Aren’t you going to stop them?”
“No.”
“But aren’t they going to regret this once they’re back to normal? Doesn’t at least one of them have someone waiting for them in their adult life?” The blonde was almost certainly referring to Onasi.
“No.”
“Really? I thought you said that we have friends and family. That we’ve made lives for ourselves. That we’re happy !” Suddenly realizing that her version of happiness was personal and not a universal constant, Meetra awkwardly amended, “Not that you need a romantic partner to find that type of satisfaction…”
Sighing, Alek turned to the Consular and assured her, “Don’t worry, they’re plenty happy with each other.”
“Wait, what?”
Snorting sardonically at Meetra’s surprise, Alek clarified, “They’re a couple, as strange as it may seem. And no, it doesn’t make any more sense once they’re adults.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
That was a question the former Sith honestly couldn’t answer. Perhaps it was just jealousy. Or maybe he’d been legitimately concerned that it would put undue stress on the teens. “I didn’t think it mattered. Apparently, I was wrong.”
Grinning as she processed this new information, Meetra nodded her approval. “I’m glad they have each other.”
Alek was not, though he wasn’t particularly inclined to admit this. That didn’t prevent the Consular from sensing the faintest wisps of his jealousy, causing her to offer a soft smile. At least there was no sign of pity in the expression.
Wearily rubbing his eyes, Alek trudged towards the dormitories. “Since they’re going to be occupied for a while. I’m going to bed. Feel free to mock them if and when they finally crawl out of the garage.”
“Did you… want to talk?” Meetra’s tone was heartbreakingly gentle, as though Alek was something fragile.
“ Absolutely not.”
“Squint…”
Shaking off the small hand that grasped his wrist, Alek searched for the right words to explain that he didn’t need Meetra’s sympathy, nor did he deserve it. “I appreciate that you care despite everything you’ve learned. But you shouldn’t. And tomorrow morning you’ll understand why.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll still care about you. This isn’t about light and dark.” The Force gently hummed around the Consular as she quoted, “There is no chaos, there is harmony.”
“I am unquestionably the wrong person to be quoting the Code to.”
“You’re not the wrong person. Just because you’re no longer a Jedi doesn’t mean that you can’t find peace. Or that you don’t deserve it.”
Peace is a lie. As the Sith Code flashed through his mind, Alek closed his eyes and drew a slow breath. “Good night, Meetra.”
There was a surprising amount of wisdom in the blonde’s voice as she called, “Why don’t you meditate on the idea? Maybe the morning will bring the answers that you’re seeking.”
Alek doubted that would ever happen, but a long-buried part of him desperately hoped that the Consular was right. After years of being at war, first with outside entities and then with himself, all he really wanted was peace .