Chapter Text
Saraea Degan, prodigal Jedi Knight, sat in the co-pilots chair of the Ebon Hawk, mentally rehashing recent events. The ship was to return to Coruscant as ordered by Grandmaster Vandar to report to the Jedi High Council. Prior to Vandar's orders though, a lot had happened in only a short space of time – Carth’s confession, finding the Star Forge, fighting Bastila, confessing her own love to Carth, reaching the Star Forge, saving Bastila, failing to save Alek, being promoted to Knighthood with Bastila and Jolee, and now speaking with the spectre of Alek, the man she loved first and who still loved her, for what she knew was the very last time.
It was too much.
As Carth walked into the cockpit he could only vaguely sense the fading spirit of Alek, but was definitely able to sense that Saraea needed time to process everything before she’d be ready to talk. She shut the rest of the world out as he turned on the engines, ran through the systems checks and begun the take-off, Saraea drifting from silent meditative contemplation off to sleep.
Carth didn’t interrupt. Back to Coruscant. Back to the Navy, for me at least. Back to the Jedi for her. Even if we do love each other, perhaps we could never be together… He had travelled the lanes more than once and had lost any sense of naivety that might allow him to hope for more. Even if we deserve it, which it pained him to admit they probably didn’t.
Carth might be a loyal and capable soldier, but his carelessness had caused him to let Saul Karath go, and his home world had burnt because of it. He wasn’t taking responsibility for Karath’s actions, or Malak’s, or even Revan’s. Just his own, and how things might have been different if only he’d acted differently.
And as for Saraea? Well, many of Revan’s sins possibly went unremembered by her even before the accident, who really knew? The more depraved your worst actions get, the more trivial your previous worst actions become to the point that they even don’t register as noteworthy any more.
It wasn’t a pleasant line of thought, but he was too exhausted not to be drawn into sleep once they’d entered hyperspace with his thoughts tracking along that deeply ingrained sense of self-loathing and mistrust he’d spent years cultivating.
In the main hold with the rest of the crew, Bastila sensed Saraea’s grip on consciousness slide. Sleep tugged on her also through their bond and she yawned. 'They’re just napping' she informed the others. 'And I think we all feel drained.'
The sole remaining Padawan of the crew, Nautolan Oric Edestus, nodded. 'I think, finally being away from that place, knowing I never need to return, I could rest.' He smiled at Bastila. Although his master could empathise with having been tortured by the Sith, he sensed his Nacinta’s subconscious kernel of pride at never having fallen herself. Even if Nacinta would never consciously look down on him for it, it was Bastila who shared his specific shame of being broken by torture in the temple at Lehon.
"A Jedi should be able to forgive", but just like he’d explained to Saraea, before his Fall no one had ever told him that the most difficult sentient to forgive would be himself, or that he could never truly be free from what he did in the Dark. And now it was Bastila who was going to need his support. In the immediate aftermath though, they would all do better after some sleep, so he stood first to leave for the dormitories. The main hold emptying of people after him.
*
In the cockpit Saraea woke first to the unfamiliar sound of Carth’s gentle snores coming from the pilot’s chair. She smiled softly and moved to place a hand on Carth’s shoulder to wake him.
'Huh?' he half whispered as he woke, before realising where he was, and who had woken him. She looked as dishevelled as he felt, but he liked that freshly-woken look on her. 'You look beautiful.' His mind drifted to hoping he could see her like that more often before quickly snapping back. I can’t have this. 'I know I called you beautiful on Taris as a joke, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually told you that I really do think you look beautiful.' I would never be allowed to have this. 'Gorgeous, even.' The galaxy would find a way to rip this from you too, Carth. Just stop. He smiled at her sadly.
'I think I could get used to you saying such sweet things about me. For what it’s worth, you may not be the most handsome pilot in the galaxy, but you certainly are the best.'
'Really?' Conflicting feelings of joy, smugness and sadness intertwined within him.
'I still think you’re very handsome, but I’m sure there are other more handsome pilots out there.'
'Not the handsome part, that you could get used to me telling you that you’re beautiful?' That we…? Oh just ask her! 'That we could ever have the chance for something like that?'
'It would take a lot of work, Carth. And I can’t guarantee the outcome, but I want to try. I can only hope that you do too.'
'Nothing in life is guaranteed, no matter how hard you try.' Telos had taught him that. He stood up and moved an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. 'But I’m willing to try very hard for you.' Carth rested his forehead against Saraea’s, their noses millimetres from each other’s. 'You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you.'
'Then stop thinking about it and do it' she gently challenged.
Carth moved in excruciatingly slowly. He let his lips barely brush against hers before murmuring 'I just want to savour this first.' He stood, breathing heavily, heart pounding, lips now touching so lightly that the sensation was just on the edge of detectable, and waited.
The seconds stretched on, but Saraea couldn’t wait any more. She pushed forwards into the kiss, a hand brushing up through the hair at the back of Carth’s head to bring his lips in closer to meet hers, fingers curling and uncurling while the other hand gripped his shoulder tightly. Carth ran his other hand up her back, then down her side, then up her back again, unable to be stilled as they desperately mapped her, pulled her body in as close to his as she pulled his lips in close to hers. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, but he was going to be damn sure it wasn’t because he let her go.
Suddenly Saraea broke out of the kiss. Bastila! She mentally checked on her bond, and noted that Bastila was still asleep. Good. I might have to tone this down for now. She would have felt that if she were awake.
A quick check of the chronometer showed they’d been asleep for over eight hours, and there was still about two days of hyperspace travel until… whatever awaited them on Coruscant.
Carth noted her pensive face. 'What’s on your mind?' he asked, hoping the familiarity of the phrasing would be comforting in the face of the changes they would surely be subjected to on return to civilisation.
'Just… calculating how much more time I have to spend with you until we arrive on Coruscant, and wishing I could have more of it.'
He ached at the familiar sentiment, previously felt by him about another courageous and suborn woman, and felt by her about him in return. She needs me. Morgana needed me too, and I… promise to do better this time.
Saraea tilted her head to rest it on his chest, and they simply stared in silence towards hyperspace together, enjoying nothing more than the simple pleasure of being in the company of a beloved, warmed by their embrace.
After some time Saraea noted that Bastila had awoken, but said nothing, barely shifting in Carth’s arms, only stepping apart when Bastila entered the cockpit.
'No, it’s quite alright' the younger woman insisted. 'I should thank you, Carth, for helping Saraea find some peace. What we feel is shared together through our bond and often amplifies between us. And you, Saraea, I should thank for not giving in to passion where Carth is concerned, for the same reason. I find this' she gestured from one to the other 'helpful. For now.'
Saraea stepped forward to hug Bastila, but the younger woman turned and left without another word, straight to the cargo hold where she knew the other Jedi would be meditating. She centred herself on that peace, and prepared to apologise to Juhani and Jolee for the stupid things she’d said on the temple rooftop. Turns out "Dark" didn’t necessarily mean "smart", no matter how superior users of that side of the Force liked to pretend they were.
Her thoughts turned as well to the soldiers who died in the battle at the Star Forge while she wielded her Battle Meditation against them. She could never know who they were, would probably never meet them, or their families. How could she ever begin to make up for what she had done, let alone be at peace with it?