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There is no emotion…. Bastila Shan wanted those words to be true, but she felt anything but peace at present. Her head ached from the weeks in the Force collar, leaving her still feeling a bit off balance. She’d never experienced that before, the turning off of that essential part of herself, like being underwater and almost out of air.
When…Tal Aren she quickly reminded herself…had shown up as her would be rescuer, she had vacillated between relief and panic. Relief because she was supposed to be escorting him, had been assigned as his minder, and losing him would have been a disaster. Panic because he wasn’t Tal Aren at all and really did the Council know that what they had done to the man would stick? There is no emotion….
The immediate problem of getting off of Taris pushed her past that worry. Once off Taris, she would take Tal back to Dantooine, regroup with the masters. In the meantime, she was Bastila Shan, Jedi knight and certainly capable of securing a way past the Sith blockade, something neither Tal Aren nor Carth Onasi, the only other survivor of the Endar Spire, had managed yet to do.
They were back in the upper city apartment the two of them had been using for a base, trying to sort out their next steps.
“Just what have you been doing the last few weeks aside from collecting companions?” The Twi’lek girl, Mission, smirked at her, the Wookie, Zaalbar, watched her impassively.
Tal grinned, “Looking for you, planning your rescue…but, really, no thanks required.”
“I was perfectly capable of saving myself, thank you. Perhaps now that I’m back in charge of this mission, we will make some progress on our escape.” Bastila forced herself to project a confidence she hardly felt, her doubt made worse by the skeptical look Carth was giving her.
“Didn’t look like much self-saving was happening when we arrived.” Tal was laughing at her now…the nerve of the man. “Nice getup the Vulkers had you in.”
“You underestimate the power of the Force, Tal Aren, I….”
Carth cut her off, “Bastila, I’m not sure fighting amongst ourselves is the best approach here.” And he was right, but she had no intention of saying so.
“This is my mission, Carth. As a member of the Jedi Order I have rank here. Perhaps the two of you might consider that more carefully.” Her foot stomped impatiently as she crossed her arms and glared.
“Then perhaps you should act more like a Jedi and less like a spoiled child.” Carth’s words stung but the look on his face was not unkind. Tal was biting back another laugh though. “Let’s just head out, ok. Staying cooped up in here isn’t good for anyone’s nerves and won’t get us a lead on passage off Taris.”
Bastila watched the others prepare to go, envying the way they chatted so causally amongst themselves. Her battle meditation allowed her to affect the outcome of entire battles and yet, she realized, no one had ever taught her how to navigate the landscape of acquaintances, how to just talk to people instead of trying to manipulate them.
They set out, intending to check the cantinas for possible leads. “Listen, Bastila,” Carth grabbed her hand and pulled her back, allowing the others to go on ahead. “I’m sure the Vulkers put you through hell…”
“I’m a Jedi, Carth, I’m more than capable of fending for myself in such situations.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up as he continued, “So you keep saying. But I think even Jedi are subject to human emotion, no matter what your code might say.” He’d not yet let go of her hand. “All I’m saying is that it is understandable that you are feeling, well, off. We all are. But, you want to be a leader, try listening more, especially to those who have more experience than you do.”
There was something reassuring both about the weight of his hand on hers and the logic of his words. “Thank you, Carth. I’m sorry for my behavior earlier.” She brought her gaze to his. “I shall endeavor to seek your council more often as I am sure I have much to learn from your experience.”
“You don’t have to put it quite like that.” He laughed just a little, but not at her, Bastila realized. “I’ve been fighting for the Republic for 20 years, Bastila. And sometimes, sometimes you have to bend the rules just a bit. Come on, let’s find us a ship.” He dropped her hand then, leaving Bastila puzzling over what it might mean to bend the rules.
*****
The council had given her and Tal Aren the mission to find the star maps that would lead them to the Star Forge and Malak. The weight of the task was oppressive, made worse by the lie of Tal Aren and the Force bond between them. Through the bond she’d felt his confusion about learning he could wield the Force, his discomfort at the the mission they’d been given.
She’d also felt him grasping for the memories he didn’t have, coming up mostly blank. Twice, though, she’d felt a flicker of some recognition, not something he consciously could process, but enough that made her afraid.
The first flicker had been when he’d sparred with Aoibhinn in the enclave. The cocky Mandalorian may not have been trained in wielding her Force abilities, but she certainly had been trained in weapons. Aoibhinn had beaten him, smirked and called him out of practice, an odd thing to say Bastila thought. After, she’d felt that flicker through the bond, that searching for something just out of reach.
The second had happened at the star map. Bastila worried that perhaps he remembered being here before, and he did, only it was easy enough to say that it was only the memory of their shared dream. “Strange we dream of Revan and Malak, isn’t it?” he’d asked, nothing but sincerity in his question. Still that flicker burned her. She should have told the masters, should have reported her worry. But they needed the maps, and the maps were in the mind of this man who didn’t remember. The Force had tied them together for a reason. Bastila kept the flicker to herself, told the council nothing.
She found Carth in the cockpit of the Hawk making final preparations for their departure. “You’re coming with us then? I’m glad to hear it.” Bastila hoped the relief she felt didn’t show on her face. In their weeks on Dantooine, she’d been kept busy in the enclave. Carth had joined them in all the tasks the council had given Tal and she’d come to find his presence reassuring.
“Yeah, heard you needed a pilot….and the Republic thought I might be of use. But,” he grinned at her over his shoulder, “I thought you didn’t like me much. Glad to see you are happy to have me along.”
Her face twisted. Why was he mocking her again when she was trying to be friendly? “I’m not sure why you would think such a thing, Carth, that I didn’t like you.”
He stopped fiddling with the control panel and turned to face her. “I’m just kidding, Bastila. Guess they don’t go much for humor in the enclave?” He was wearing the quirky smile again, the one that reminded her he wasn’t laughing at her.
“I’m sorry.” She frowned and looked down at her hands, twisted together in frustration. “This is all just… a lot.”
“Hey,” one of his hands came up to cover her own. “The council wouldn’t have given you this mission if they didn’t think you could do it.” Bastila wasn’t sure she believed that, but it helped to hear it. “You know I’ve got your back right? We all do. That’s how a crew works.” She looked up to find sincerity in his eyes, the quirky smile still playing at his mouth. “I know I’ve given you a hard time before, but that’s just...well, ok, you are frustrating at times,” Bastila winced at that despite the lack of malice on his face, “but, probably goes both ways, huh?”
Bastila allowed her face to soften a bit before she replied. “You have had your moments, Carth. But, I truly am glad for your presence on this mission.”
“I’m going to need a co-pilot up here, you know. Gotta say I’d rather have you than the Mandalorians.” He was grinning at her full on now, the warmth of his hand strange yet comforting on her own. “Interested?”
She wasn’t sure why he was asking or even what was meant by the offer. Perhaps this was how one behaved with a friend. Without thinking she found her fingers stirred softly under his, her hands unclasping so that she could lace her fingers in his instead. “Thank you, Carth. I would like that.”
*****
The bond with Tal mostly showed up in their shared dreams. Bastila knew them for what they were, the man’s own memories, but it was important to hold the facade, to continue to express false confusion at why the two of them would be randomly granted visions of Revan and Malak. Except for those occasional flickers, the lie held.
They were on Kashyyyk, nearly to the first star map. Tal kept wanting to talk about the dream, “It could help us understand what to do when we get there, how to retrieve the map.” He was right, of course; that’s precisely why the council had made the choice they had, to replace Revan’s shattered mind with the lie of Tal Aren. Still, Bastila grimaced inwardly each time he asked. That the dream grew more intense as they drew nearer to the star map didn’t help.
The fear of the dream pushed her away from the fire of their camp and the sleeping forms of the others, not that the strange darkness of the Shadowlands was particularly comforting. Bastila settled on the soft ground, saber in her lap, and closed her eyes to try to meditate. There is no emotion….
At a sudden crackle of the brush beside her, she jumped to a ready position, saber ignited.
“Whoa, Bastila.”
She deactivated her saber at the familiar voice. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Carth.”
“Wasn’t trying to sneak. And you shouldn’t wander off out here by yourself.”
“I’m perfectly capable of guarding myself against whatever dangers may be lurking.”
“Maybe, but you are a part of a team now, remember?”
She sighed softly, torn between her irritation that he was right yet again and her embarrassment at the fact. “Of course,” she muttered, sinking back to the ground.
He sat beside her, his physical presence somehow more burning than what she sensed of him in the Force. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” That was a lie.
“Nothing doesn’t make you wander off into the dark, Bastila. Wanna talk about it?”
She did but wasn’t sure how. Instead she flipped the question, “What brings you out wander, Carth? Do you wish to talk about it?” His eyes narrowed a bit at that. He had managed to keep much of his past to himself, offering little more than what she might learn from his service record. Her eyes drifted to the ring on his finger, wondering at what it meant.
“You’re not the only one who has nightmares, Bastila.” He was staring off into the dark; she resisted a sudden urge to push his face to look at her. “I thought enough time had passed but I guess not. It’s always the same. Telos. The bombardment. Morgana.”
Despite the low light she could see the way his jaw clinched against the pain of the memory. Morgana must be the ring. When she took his hand in her own, he didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to speak of it, Carth. I didn’t intend to raise difficult memories for you.”
“No, it’s alright.” He looked at her then, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Maybe I should talk about it. Never really have you know. Was just easier to keep going in the war. To fight Malak and Saul. To hate them for what they did.”
The voices of the masters echoed in her head, Hate is a path to darkness. She bit back those words, too simplistic to explain what was before her. Instead she let her thumb rub at his hand, hoping to offer some comfort. “I will listen if you want to talk, Carth, if talking will help.”
He talked for hours then or rather they both did. First his story of his wife and son, both killed in the bombardment of Telos. Carth’s grief at watching his wife die in his arms, helpless to stop it. The agony of not even finding the body of his lost son to bury. The rage at learning his once friend Saul Karath had been behind it all. The hatred of Malak, the man they sought to stop. Somehow that led to her own story, the loss of a childhood cut short by her induction into the Order. Her rift with her mother, the sadness at her father’s death.
Their hands stayed clasped the whole time, fingers moving with small comforts when the telling grew too hard.
****
She hated lying, and that’s what this was, lying. At first she’d not seen it that way, thought she was just doing what the council asked as a good Jedi would. Disobedience, that’s one way to a fall - just look what happened to Revan and Malak for failing to heed the council.
Revan. Bastila’s stomach churned. The council had asked too much. What if they were wrong? That’s a dangerous thing to think. But they had asked her to lie, hadn’t they. Lie to Tal Aren about who he was, lie to everyone who had signed on for this mission, lie to Carth. It was that last lie that she hated most of all because Carth did not trust easily, hated betrayal, and she wanted desperately to believe that he trusted her. Why?
She remembered the feel of their hands together on Kashyyyk, the way they’d shared that which made them vulnerable, the trust between them in that moment.
Even now she could feel his presence in the Force, steady and good, with that hint of unresolved anger and sadness hovering about, the thing that made him so slow to trust. And if he knew the truth…She longed to tell him, wished often that he would just guess or ask or anything that might give her an excuse. But she’d promised the council. Does that mean more?
“How much longer?” Bastila knew the answer, but need to fill the air with a conversation that didn’t matter to distract her thoughts from the things that did.
“Couple of hours till we are out of hyperspace, a few more for docking probably. Fair amount of traffic around Manaan these days.”
“Good. I’ll go let the others know.” She got up to leave the cockpit, suddenly feeling a need for space.
Weeks later it was over, finding the star map on Manaan anyway. They’d be leaving tomorrow for Tatooine, half the mission behind them now. Bastila walked along the promenade overlooking the sea, losing herself in the peace of the view.
“Mind some company?”
Those strange flutters in her belly flared, the ones that had been hitting her with increasing frequency in Carth’s presence the last few weeks. They weren’t unpleasant though….and, no, she didn’t mind his company. “I was just going for a last walk before hyperspace. I am always pleased to have you join me, Carth.”
“Not sure you’d have always said that.” He gave that awkward grin, the one that meant he wasn’t quite sure he believed what he’d heard. Strange, too, that she knew his expressions so easily now. You’ve been watching.
They walked for a bit, talking about nothing important, stopping eventually at one of the many overlooks spaced along the promenade. The warm salt air and gentle brush of the waves against the seawall were relaxing, made it possible for just a moment to forget the events of the last months, or even to forget what it meant to be Bastila Shan, Jedi knight, the responsibility that came with that.
“You know, Bastila, I owe you an apology.”
“Whatever for?”
“I misjudged you,” that awkward grin on his face again. “Used to think you were arrogant I guess, like you couldn’t be bothered by anyone who wasn’t a Jedi. More than a little aggravating.”
“I’m not sure you were wrong. I….I have learned quite a bit these last months. I am sorry for my behavior. Although,” she felt her own grin bloom at her lips, “you have also had your frustrating moments Carth Onasi.”
“I’m glad to have been wrong.” His hand on hers was different than their touch on Kashyyyk. This one sent the flutters in her belly racing, made her wonder how else his hands might touch her.
“As am I.” She let her fingers tangle firmly in his as they studied each other’s eyes.
They didn’t loose their grasp until they got back to the Hawk.
*****
Bastila blinked against the clear desert air of the Tatooine evening. She’d been drinking and dancing…. and dancing with Carth. Stars, what was she thinking? Aoibhinn’s fault; she’d never have behaved so wantonly on her own. Sure about that?
They’d been walking in silence for at least ten minutes when she realized that Carth’s hand was firmly clasping hers and furthermore, she most certainly didn’t mind.
“Carth.” She stopped walking, tugged gently at his hand. “This turned into an unexpectedly nice evening.” His face was so close to her own that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She could hardly blame the whiskey for her forwardness, since its effects were now gone. And Aoibhinn was well ahead, no longer whispering encouraging words in her ear. “I’m glad you came.”
“Yeah, me too.” Oh. He was looking at her in a way that made her stomach flip with anticipation. Of what? One thumb rubbed against the side of her hand, somehow the other was at her cheek as it had been earlier in the cantina.
And then they were kissing, hands still clasped between them.
*****
Malak meant to break her. He wouldn’t kill her, of course, just work her over until she was willing to fall and do his bidding.
At first it had been possible to resist, to remember why she walked in the light, to focus on anything other than the pain he inflicted upon her.
When it got harder, she thought about Tatooine, about the way Carth’s hands had felt as they’d held her, as they’d touched her and made her want for more. When it was the hardest, she could almost see him smiling at her, inviting her to take his hand. If only she could reach those fingers across the divide, maybe she could save herself from falling.
But everyone has a breaking point. Bastila sobbed when she broke, not because it hurt - which it did - but because she knew she was betraying everything she had ever stood for and could no longer bring herself to care. That’s what it meant to break, to give up that which had always mattered most.
She couldn’t remember any longer the way his hand had felt in hers. That loss ached, but she pushed it aside to survive.
Later on the temple roof Revan pleaded with her, “It’s not too late to come back, Bastila. Carth is fighting for you.” She hated him then, Carth. Hated him for his pretty noble words, for daring to care for her. How weak he is. Her fists clinched as she tried forget the feel of his hand in hers, tried to convince herself that her hate was true.
*****
With time, the events of the Star Forge might come into better focus. Malak had told her to stay, to use her Battle Meditation against the Republic fleet and she had, felt their resolve crumbling under her will, a will fueled by the dark energy of the Star Forge.
Then Revan had come, begged her again to remember herself, to remember the power and draw of the Light. Trying to come back had hurt worse than falling because she had to remember what she’d done, those who had died because of her actions. She’d wanted him to kill her, but he’d refused - whether because he wanted to use her or because he pitied her or something else altogether she wasn’t sure. “Use your skill against the Star Forge fighters,” he’d commanded. She obeyed because her will to do anything else was broken.
Carth had stayed. She couldn’t look at him, not as this terrible fallen thing she’d become. Focus was hard. The battle raged in the space around them; she could feel every fighter but couldn’t distinguish between them. Strong arms wrapped around her then, steady hands grasped firmly her shaking ones. “You can do this, Bastila. You can come back. Please.”
She didn’t deserve that at all, not his hands, not his words, not his belief that she could do one thing right in the wake of her evil. His hands didn’t let go though, no matter what she deserved. The battle came into focus and maybe she made a difference.
When the voice on the com had shouted at them to hurry, she’d been unable to move, just looked at him at whispered, “leave me, please.”
But he wouldn’t. He didn’t let go of her, pulled her to her feet. “I’ll carry you if I have to, but it would be easier for us both if you’d run with me.” Even now he was trying to smile at her. “I won’t leave without you, Bastila.” She knew he meant that, couldn’t stand to imagine him dying, wouldn’t have him leave behind the son he’d found again in the dark of Korriban; she went with him back to the Hawk.
They’d gotten away. The battle outside was ending, she could feel that still despite trying hard to block it all out and sink into herself. She’d spent so many hours sitting in this chair, coming to know the man beside her. It hurt now to be here, the lights too bright, his presence too big. She curled into herself waiting to die. You are weak, a coward.
Someone was speaking to Carth. She knew the voice but couldn’t - or didn’t want - to acknowledge it, stayed wrapped in herself. “Malak….not dead….” the voice said. At that she lashed out, lunged at the speaker. Aoibhinn.
Carth’s arms were around her again. Pulling her back to herself, to him. “Bastila, stay with me.” His hand found hers, held it tight. “Stay with me. It will be ok. I promise.” And she broke again, this time because she was so terribly sorry for all she’d betrayed, including this man who just held her close when he should have thrust her away. He was kissing her hair, whispering his promise, his hand on hers the only thing keeping her from crumbling into the nothing.
*****
“I don’t want to do this, Carth. It’s false. Just another lie.” The council had asked, wanted someone to show off as the hero of this whole thing, some public explanation for how the Star Forge had fallen. There was to be a public ceremony, a celebration of victory.
They also needed Revan to stay dead, Revan who in the end had broken the Star Forge but had not killed Malak. The details of that Bastila couldn’t bring herself to think upon.
Because Revan needed to stay dead, they turned to the others. Bastila would help to represent the Order, famous already for her Battle Meditation, the public would have no trouble rallying behind her. And Carth, the handsome pilot and war hero, well of course his part in it all was believable. At least the Carth part of the story was true.
Bastila hated herself for her weakness, for falling. The council said what mattered was that she’d returned, that she would be redeemed by her actions now. That felt hollow and false because it was. She was ruined.
“I don’t want to do it either, beautiful, but….orders.” That was part of it, too, though. She was done with orders. Done with the Order? He was holding out a hand. “Let’s just get it over with, ok.”
She’d refused to let go of his hand, even when they’d put the medal around her neck, Carth’s fingers warm in her own helping her through.
After the medals, the reception, the photos, the endless stream of very important people, Bastila sank exhausted in a corner, hoping for a moment of respite.
“We can just get out of here, you know.”
“And go where?”
He pulled her into his arms, whispered at her forehead, “There’s always the Hawk. Pretty sure they won’t follow us there.” She merely nodded, too tired to speak. Neither of them noticed the curious glances and raised brows that followed them as they walked out hand and hand.
*****
It didn’t end there. Revan came to them later, asked them to stay and help make the Republic strong; Bastila wasn’t sure she cared much what he intended to do. She’d left the order, or what was left of it - maybe she was still a Jedi, or maybe she wasn’t; the answer didn’t feel important anymore. The darkness had scarred her, but in the end, she’d not broken, instead found her way back to the light.
She found him at his desk, hunched and frowning; her arms drifted around his shoulders from behind, her lips brushed against his ear. “You work too hard.” That was true, Carth an admiral now, always with reports and plans and things to worry about. Her hand played at his face, brushed the hair now sprinkled with gray back from his temples. “Come home with me.”
“Always beautiful.” She never tired of his smile, the way it lit the flutters in her core. Their kisses were familiar now, still warm and sure, a thing that made her believe in fighting for the light. He pressed his lips to her fingers, wound his own in hers. “Always.”
And that was enough. The press of his lips, the promise of his heart, the weight of his hand in hers.