With my apologies to Hans Christian Andersen, Andrea of No Rest for the Wicked, and the late Messrs Morecambe and Wise.

Age: Still 20

The training hall was eerily quiet, but that didn’t stop Lysia from slamming the door on her way in. Ania let out a calculated squawk and dropped herself a foot down the rope, then grabbed hold again.

"Don’t do that!"

"Oh, lay off it. You’re a precog. I appreciate the effort to make me feel comfortable and all, but it’s not working."

"Sorry," Ania said, and dropped to the ground. "I just thought, since it was you -"

"You do it with everyone, and it’s not the precog which scares me," Lysia pointed out. Ania had to admit that she was right; she did do it with everyone, because trying to have a conversation when you should properly be reacting to everything five minutes before it was said was impossible, and Lysia had always been mercifully honest about the fact that Ania’s bonding ability scared the hell out of her. It made it much easier; they just avoided each other, a cordial arrangement which strangers nevertheless tended to take for dislike.

"I do. Okay. Why’re you here, then?"

"There you go again."

"You have to tell me," Ania said patiently, "or there’ll be a time paradox, and Master Zilar’ll have my guts."

"Really? Huh. Well, I’ve got a... a bad feeling. About Kheen. I figured you’d probably know if he was all right, and when I went to your room and you weren’t there I figured that you must know, because it’s two in the morning and humans aren’t generally nocturnal. So. What’s happened?"

"I don’t know for certain," Ania told her. "I had a vision a few days ago, and something happened shortly after. I’m... I’m not sure what. I think it might hit the news soon, but that’s... I usually have precog for about an hour, right, only it gets fuzzier as it gets further into the future, and I think it’s a couple of hours away yet. But I think... um. I think Malak’s unconscious."

Hospitalised victims of the Jedi, Revan was fairly sure, weren’t supposed to be this cocky. All right, they’d knocked Malak out, but she and Yusanis had both still been standing, had done a pretty good cleanup - without actually having to kill anyone, too - and, well, if not for the fact that she was looking at what could still possibly turn out to be his murderer, she’d be the first to point out that Malak was easy to beat.

As it was, she was seething, and expending every ounce of energy and discipline she had to not show it. Yusanis, of all people, had gone behind her back and tutored Malak, then sat there and smirked as she complained to Malak afterwards. They’d been caught up in the Mandalorian attack on Kheen, which naturally meant that the whole negotiation had been utterly pointless anyway, nearly bested by a bunch of - of children, and just to top it all off the little schutta who had put Malak in hospital was sitting up in bed, raring to go, and laughing at her.

"How’s your friend? Died yet?"

Revan almost bit through her tongue in her effort to avoid reacting to that.

"I can’t believe we beat you. You Jedi are supposed to be the best warriors in the Republic? Why are we bothering? There’s hardly much honour in such an easy victory -"

"I’d hardly call it a victory," Brianna remarked. "All six of your squad are in hospital, and my father and Revan are fine."

Oh, yes, and she was stuck babysitting Yusanis’ brat of a daughter, so she couldn’t go and see Malak. Worse, the girl reminded her strongly of someone else she knew, but she had no idea who. It was driving her mad.

"We’re not dead. We’ll keep coming, Jedi."

Oh, for - he was in a hospital bed, for crying out loud, with a broken arm and ribs and bruises all down one side from being temporarily caught between a Jedi-speeding Malak and the wall of the ship and a nasty leg wound from Yusanis’ sword. The rest of the squad were in a similar state. They’d hardly won just because one of them had managed to knock out the weakest fighter of the three before Revan returned the favour.

Besides, Malak was going to be fine. At least, the doctors said so, and right now that was the only thing keeping her from killing this little wart, so she was hanging onto it for dear life.

"Besides," Brianna continued, "you’re wrong. Revan and Malak are Padawans. Even if the Jedi were warriors, they’d hardly be the greatest in the Republic. And there’d be far more ‘honour’ in being taught by them than killing them."

"Why’d I want to be taught by that pathetic bunch?"

The girl raised an eyebrow, causing Revan to nearly scream in frustration. Who in the galaxy was it that this kid reminded her of? "As I understand it, you were slammed into a wall by a human mountain moving at colossal speeds."

"Psssch. I won."

"Only because somebody tripped him. And once he wakes, he won’t be otherwise hurt. You’ll be healing for weeks."

He snorted. "I can handle pain."

"Yes, but you shouldn’t have to. Better not to get hit in the first place."

"Oh, as if you would know anything, Echani."

Brianna just smiled. "I’m not the one in the hospital bed."

"So what do we do with them now?"

Arren sighed. "I’ve no idea. All I know is that the one with whom our daughter is currently debating is Force-Sensitive. That complicates matters a great deal, San."

"You’re not thinking of training the boy?"

"Good grief, no. Too old, and far too Mandalorian. But we can hardly release him back into the wild, either. Any of them, for that matter."

Yusanis sighed. "It’s a shame. If we keep them here, they’ll have to go into an orphanage, and I pity the poor care workers. Not to mention the debatable sanity behind teaching Mandalorian children Echani battle tactics."

"Prisoners of war in an orphanage," Arren mused. "It does have a certain something to it, doesn’t it?"

"The Jedi would at least be able to handle them. Maybe even teach them some manners. Heck, maybe even teach them honour."

Arren grimaced. "Perhaps. I suppose they wouldn’t have to be trained, just kept and taught to act like responsible Republicans... well, I can ask the Council, at least."

"And that’s all I can ask, really. Hadn’t we better rescue your poor Padawan from Brianna’s clutches?"

"Oh, I’m sure she can keep her desire to run off and cry by Malak’s bedside in check for another hour or so. The question is, what can we do in an hour...?"

"Some Jedi you are," San said, and kissed her.

A mere fifteen minutes into Kae’s predicted hour, Revan finally snapped and, leaving Brianna still debating with the obnoxious Bandon kid, marched off to find Malak. Not as if Brianna was in any danger, anyway. Bandon was only three years older than her, and in a cast.

It was rather worrying, really, she mused as she wandered past a giggling cupboard, turning her nose up in disgust - a hospital, good grief, some people had no decorum - that they’d had a fair fight with a squad of fresh Mandalorian recruits. If their new warriors could do that, what would the adults be like when they finally attacked the Republic proper?

Malak was still asleep; had been for three days now, and she had spent most of that time sitting with him. As Revan sat down, she noticed his head seemed to have gone rather... orange. She leaned over to check, and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing.

"So that’s what colour your hair is," she said to Malak. He - of course - made no reply, but Revan kept going, just to hear a voice in this deathly quiet room. "Wait till I tell Ania. You know there’s a book open? She said ginger just to be contrary, and the odds are something like eighteen-to-one. Talk about lucky guesses. A lot of people said blond, dunno why... and then, you know, there were the usual few jokers who said you’d gone prematurely grey and that was why you’d shaved it off in the first place, and Dyuun reckons you’re naturally bald, but then he is a Sullustan, and, oh, Force help me, I’m babbling, aren’t I?"

"A little," a voice said from the doorway, and Revan whirled around to see one of the doctors - Doctor Moryne - who was smiling slightly. "But then, talking to them is one of the best things you can do. How is he?"

"Same as ever," Revan said. "I don’t think he’s getting any better, sir."

Moryne rubbed his nose thoughtfully, evidently considering this seriously, then said, "Every test we’ve run says he’s getting better. I can tell you conclusively that he’s been dreaming, at least, but... I don’t know. I’ve never had a Jedi patient before. Are you picking up something that I can’t? If so, you should tell me, please."

Revan shook her head. "I’m not a Healer, not even the tiniest one. I’m sorry. I’m letting my anxiety get the best of me."

"Ah... you’re close?"

"Since we were six."

"I’m sorry," he said, quietly. "I’ll leave. I only wanted to check that he hadn’t woken, anyway."

He did so, leaving them alone.

"Dreaming, eh? Not more porno nightmares?"

Malak let out a little snort. Revan sat back, wondering if he’d heard her, what he really was dreaming about. Would he remember, if he woke up?

When he woke up. When, it had to be when, because Revan simply could not imagine a life without Malak in it somewhere. She didn’t much care to, either. Ania would no doubt have seen this as more proof for her wild theories, but really, it was nothing to do with love. Just... wanting him around. Nothing wrong with that.

What was he dreaming about in there?

Well, she could find out easily enough, she thought, though Malak wouldn’t thank her for it later; it’d have to be without his consent, after all, and she had promised.

Still...

Still, she couldn’t shake the idea that he was never going to wake up, or would wake up completely different, and it wasn’t as if he could give consent, was it?

She leaned forwards again, touching his arm lightly - it was easier to make this level of deep contact with physical closeness - and began to meditate.

Getting in was surprisingly easy - it no doubt helped that he was unconscious, and all his mental blocks were down. All the same, everything felt eerily... still. Unmoving. Unchanging.

Malak?

No reply. Not for the first time, Revan found herself wishing that he were telepathic.

She pushed on, deeper, and finally found him in a dream.

Dreams were funny, when you were watching someone else’s. Revan occasionally picked up on Ania’s, when the latter was having a particularly vivid or upsetting dream, and they always seemed rather... strange. As far as she was aware, though, there was no way to contact someone while they were dreaming - of course, she was usually asleep herself when she ended up watching Ania’s dreams.

She was in a forest - no, it was denser, darker, and there was, just on the edge of perception, a sense of heat and humidity - a jungle. She couldn’t see him anywhere, but he must be close - dreamscapes only existed for a short way on either side, after all. Revan sighed, and went for a wander.

The trees melted away as she approached them, saving her the trouble of having to push through them, and it took almost no time at all before she found him, dragging bits of wood around to make a pattern on the ground. Revan hesitated, then went up to him. It was a dream, after all - he wouldn’t be surprised.

"What’re you doing?"

"I have to get them to say ‘altruistic’," Malak said. A small gizka fell from his lips and hopped away, croaking.

It was a stupid question, Revan knew, but she had to ask. "Why?"

"Well, then I get the whole galaxy and a good book, the moon is returned to the sky and the princess can sleep once more."

"The princess?"

"Oh, well, she says she is, but they’re not sure, they think she might be a Sith, so the Queen came up with this plan - she gets a juma pip, see, and -"

"You have a very weird mind," Revan told him. He laughed.

"Tell me about it. This grass was blue a while ago."

"Malak," Revan interrupted, before he could make this any weirder, "do you know you’re unconscious and dreaming?"

He gave her an odd look. "I’m not."

"You are," Revan insisted. Maybe, if she could get him to realise that, he would wake up. "I mean, look, I don’t know how your dreams usually go, but this is just strange, and... look, come with me. I want to show you something."

He shook his head. "I can’t leave until I get these bits of wood to read ‘altruistic’." As before, a gizka fell from his lips and hopped away. Revan wondered idly where that particular dream element had come from, but the more important point was in what he had just said.

"You can leave at any time, Malak, you don’t have to -"

"Not if I want the princess," Malak said, and levitated a plank into a new position. "Which I do, but she has to be a real princess, so it’s just as well that she is one, but still, she doesn’t like flowers or chocolate, so maybe if I can give her the whole galaxy and a good book..."

Suddenly, it dawned on Revan what exactly he was on about. "You mean, you’re doing this - for me?"

"Depends, are you a real - actually, never mind. I don’t much care anyway."

"Malak, I don’t want the whole galaxy or a good book," Revan told him, as gently as she could. "I just want you to wake up. I miss you terribly."

"I told you, I can’t leave until these bits of wood read -"

"- altruistic," Revan said hastily, and this time the gizka came out of her mouth. "I know, you told me."

"I’m nearly there," Malak said. "Another day or so, then you’ll have the galaxy and a good book."

"And you?" Revan asked, not daring to hope.

"Maybe."

They spent the next three hours watching the Holonet in an awkward silence, trying not to do anything which might cause Ania to bond with Lysia - which was, of course, practically everything. By the time it finally rolled up on the screen, Ania’s hands were shaking from the sheer effort of not bonding to Lysia, and it wasn’t working anyway - she could feel it starting. No going back, now, it was only a matter of time.

"Oh, frack," Lysia whispered, staring up at the screen.

Ania had to agree. ‘KHEEN OVERRUN BY MANDALORIANS’ did not look like a promising headline.

She swallowed, hard, and said, "The Masters think they can handle themselves. And they’ve got Kae with them."

"Not on the planet, and the Masters probably didn’t know this’d happen."

"They did," Ania told her bitterly.

"How is he? Or can’t you tell at this distance?"

"He’s still unconscious, I think. Revan seems all right, though. Maybe they did make it out."

"I hate this," Lysia muttered. "We’re supposed to be defenders of the Republic, aren’t we? How much longer do we have to sit on our butts and watch this? Just until they actually attack and prove the Council wrong? As if it could be any more obvious after this, Kheen just declared its intention to join last month!"

Ania said nothing, partly because the Council had forbidden her to talk about her vision after the arguments with Atris and partly because she wasn’t sure how much Lysia already knew - Malak, after all, hadn’t been ordered to keep quiet.

"I mean, at the very least we should be preparing for the possibility of war, but we’re not even doing that. They barely even admit that the Mandalorians exist. It’s crazy."

"It is," Ania said. "Not much we can do, though, is there?"

"No," Lysia said glumly. "Well, except sneak out and get drunk, I guess. Coming?"

Ania stared at her for a minute. If there was one thing guaranteed to cause them to end up bonding, it would be spending the early hours of the morning together, being sociable.

She must be really desperate, either for company or for someone to talk to. Either way, Ania had to admit that it’d be nice to get out, except...

"Get drunk? Are you mad?"

"Well, not drunk drunk, that’d be suicide, but, you know. Better’n sitting here and worrying, right?"

Yes... yes, it probably would be, Ania had to admit. And just once wouldn’t do any harm, after all.

"All right then."

"Great. There’s this cantina I know -"

Kae paced the room again, hair still in disarray. "Revan, I cannot believe that you would be so irresponsible. Do you have any idea how easy it is to get stuck with deep contact, let alone permanently melded?"

"I do, Master."

"And yet you did it anyway. Why?"

"Well, I’ve done it before with Malak anyway, it’s the only way to get around his telepathy problem -"

"Yes, child, but he was awake then!" Kae groaned. "He could reject you if you got yourself into trouble! Not to mention be able to consent!"

Yes, all right. It had been a stupid idea, a whim, a spur-of-the-moment thing brought about largely by a need to see Malak, her Malak, again, and to know he was all right.

She hadn’t got stuck, anyway. She just hadn’t wanted to leave, and still wasn’t too happy about Kae forcibly removing her.

"He’s the one who’s got stuck, Master, not me."

"No, Revan, he was freeing himself until you... barged in there and distracted him!"

No, he’d been stuck, playing with stupid bits of wood, not having the faintest idea of what was going on outside. Anyone could see that - why else would he be dreaming of such a stupid, futile task?

She said as much.

"It’s hardly futile, Revan. He’ll get there in the end. In fact he told you when he’ll get there - in about a day! Use that rather fine brain of yours for once, please. Good grief, it’s as if you’ve... lost all your sense... since... oh, my."

Oh, not again. "Master, I’m not in love with him."

Kae sat down at last, raising an eyebrow. "Really. You’re remarkably quick to deny it, in that case."

"I get this all the time from Ania."

"Ania?" Kae looked even more sceptical now. "The empath who is bonded to both of you."

"Doesn’t mean she’s always right," Revan pointed out. Why couldn’t anyone just accept this?

Kae stared at her for a while, then sighed and buried her face in a hand. "I can’t tell if you’re lying to save yourself, or genuinely oblivious. If it’s the former, then well done, but I assure you it is largely unnecessary -"

"I am not in love with him!"

"You are, Revan, and frankly I couldn’t care less, as long as you promise to learn to deal with it without it affecting your judgement, which you clearly cannot at the moment."

"I’m not -" Revan began again, then stopped. "You [/i]don’t care[/i]? Is that really an... an appropriate thing for a Master to say?"

"Oh, really. You’ve been looking after my daughter all afternoon. Well, you were supposed to be, at any rate." Kae sat back, breathing deeply. "Which I tell you in complete confidence, you understand, and only so you can understand that you are not alone. But, Revan, you cannot allow it to cloud your judgement. What you did was dangerous for both of you, to say nothing of the inherent dangers of the Dark Side."

"But I’m not -"

"You do realise that that is the fourth time you’ve said that in the past five minutes?"

"I’m sick of telling people it!"

"Revan... you’ve spent three days sitting next to him. You’ve become twitchy every time somebody pulled you away. You attempted deep contact with him while he was unconscious. Not to mention the number of times that I’ve found you in the infirmary with him -"

"He doesn’t get much free time, Master, I’d never see him otherwise."

" - at least once a day being your apparent minimum, hmm?"

"I’m just used to him being there!"

"When we were on Manaan in that awful court case, you pined. For three months. Honestly, I can’t tell why I didn’t see it then."

"Missing someone doesn’t mean you’re in love with them -"

"No, but pining over them usually does."

"Master, why is it so important to you that I admit it?"

"Because then you can deal with it, Revan, rather than letting it take you over as you are now."

"Master, I’m really -"

"If you say ‘not in love with him’ one more time, Revan, I shall force my way into your head and show you."

She wouldn’t dare, Revan thought, then realised that she probably would. Oh, this was just too damn much, it really was -

"Go on then," she said, sitting bolt upright and glaring. "I’ll even let you in. Show me what it is that makes you and everyone else so utterly sure that I’m in love with him, when I’m not!"

Kae regarded her silently for a moment, then asked, "You give me permission?"

"Yes. Show me."

"Very well. Relax, please. And lower your blocks completely."

Revan did as she was told; harder was keeping them down when her instinct, as she felt Kae enter, was to pull them back up as quickly as possible.

It was slow at first; Kae found, and brought to mind, the tiniest incidents, silly things, trying to make him laugh, spending hours - literally hours, when it added up, it was amazing - just sitting around and listening to him try to explain how gizka worked to her, then hours more once he moved on to people...

...going to find him almost every free chance she got. Age ten, thoroughly unhappy when he didn’t look likely to come to Coruscant. Age eleven, that one, solitary, daft fight, with both of them apologising within an hour. Age fifteen, Lysia. Lysia! Kae hit a goldmine, then, and started digging harder, more thoroughly; prettier, more like him, more physically fit, a threat, a challenge, always seeming to win... get away from him, leave him alone, he was hers, her friend, hers and maybe Ania’s, and getting more like... like Lysia every day, oh, it made her sick, it made her cry when she was seventeen, and look, Revan, you hardly ever cry...

...the pillow fight, Force, had she really spent that much time jumping up and down on him, tickling him?

...always, always him when she was upset or wanted company, only occasionally Ania, even then because he wasn’t around or was too busy...

...the Manaan thing, three months without him, okay, so for some reason she didn’t need as much food as other people, but still, three months on barely anything wasn’t good for her, didn’t usually happen, only really when she didn’t see him for at least a fortnight, Force, really? She just missed him, though, it was normal to miss friends, just a friend, didn’t prove anything -

Weeks trying to talk the Council into putting him on the list for this mission, finally had to get Ania to do it... all because she didn’t want a repeat of Manaan, because she always missed him, on every mission, and there were memories of at least twenty to prove this quite conclusively...

Wave upon wave of it washed over her, dragged to the front by Kae’s relentless memory-searching. Oh, Force, stop, please -

Misery. Happiness. A sort of neutral state, true, but only when he was nearby and not hurt, but not close enough for conversation. Anger, this morning, she’d wanted to - no, Kae amended as new memory came to the surface, she did want to kill Bandon, hardly Jedi-like, was it...? Fear, Revan. Fear leads to anger, and rash decisions, like making deep contact with an unconscious person, all right, please, it hurt now...

It stopped, finally. As Kae withdrew, Revan realised that she had tears running down her face, and began to search frantically for her handkerchief. Not often much use for it, of course, she usually used Malak’s - oh, hell.

Kae waited until she had composed herself, a little, then said quietly, "Well?"

"Why?" Revan asked. It was meant to be angry - she felt angry - but it came out rather as a high-pitched sob.

"Why did I show you, or why did it happen?"

Revna said nothing. Both, really.

"I doubt anyone can begin to fathom why love happens. As for why I showed you... it affects you, and your mood, far more than you seemed to be aware. You need to be, Revan. What if you had drawn your lightsaber and killed poor Bandon?"

It would have served him right. No, that wasn’t the answer that Kae wanted, even if it was true... "Dark Side?"

"Murder," Kae said simply.

"What do I tell him?"

"Whatever you like. Nothing, if you choose - it will certainly make your life in the Order easier. The important thing is that you know it, because Revan, the one thing this mission has shown me is that you are not ready to be a Knight. I did think, perhaps, but... your emotions rule you, to an incredible degree, when it comes to Malak. I need you to overcome that before I will feel happy about recommending you for Trial."

Revan stared for a while dumbfounded. When she finally found her voice, she asked, "That’s it?"

"Aside from that, yes, I believe you are ready."

"I -"

"Don’t become overconfident, now," Kae warned her, though she was smiling as she said it. "This is perhaps the most important lesson for you to learn. I hope you will try hard to overcome it."

"I will," Revan said, hardly able to contain her amazement. "Master, I will."

Ania sat in a corner of the cantina, head down, staring at her drink. If she looked as unobtrusive as she could, she reasoned, she might be able to get through the whole early morning without having to get along with anyone, or worse, having anyone attempt to ‘get along’ with her.

Lysia was doing a wonderful job of keeping potential troublemakers occupied; every time somebody came near Ania, they were whisked off by a scarlet-headed, cheerfully tipsy and rather pretty girl, flirted with a little, then gently dropped, ideally some way away from Ania. Lysia was, in fact, having such a good time that she had utterly failed to notice that Ania was becoming more and more drunk, and was in fact doing so on purpose now, because she had made a wonderful discovery.

Alcohol dulled the senses. Every Jedi was, and most non-Jedi were, aware of that. What Ania had never appreciated before was the extent to which this happened.

She couldn’t ‘feel’ a thing. No bonds, not even the faint one which was just beginning to form with Lysia. No precognition. Just Ania, and her thoughts, and a sort of thumping sensation which might be the beginnings of a headache. The headache, though... oh, she could live with the headache, because this was bliss.

There was only one problem. The cantina only had piped music, not even a holoemitter. The song was one that she hated, had hated ever since she was old enough to realise her influence over other people, to realise how she had to live her life if she was to allow others even a modicum of free will.

Make me happy... through the years... the speakers warbled. The song was full of static, no doubt playing from an old recording; it was, after all, was probably older than Ania herself. Never bring me... any tears...

She snorted into her glass. Yeah, go on. Make people happy, every second, every minute, every day. Don’t go mad while you’re at it.

Let your arms be as warm... as the sun from up above...

Whoever had written that song had never, she thought sourly and for the thousandth time, had to project happiness all the time. It was fracking mental torture. Most likely go insane before she’s thirty, Master Dissik had said, and she was twenty now. Ten years of sanity left. Whoop-de-doo.

Bring me fun - bring me sunshine - bring me love...

End up matchmaking two of the most stubborn people in the entire bloody Order, just so they’d stop mentally whining at her and let her retain her sanity for a tiny, tiny bit longer... oh, yes, bring them love. Hah!

In this world where we live... there should be more happiness... so much joy you can give to each brand-new bright tomorrow...

She hated this song, she thought viciously as the headache rose. Hated it hated it hated it -

Every speaker in the room simultaneously exploded. The noise made her wince, and if she had been a little more sober she would have realised what it meant. She hadn’t lost control like that in years.

"Oopsie," she said quietly, and giggled. A few metres away, Lysia stopped what she was doing and, making loud, vague excuses, came over to her.

"What did you do?"

"Didn’ like th’song," Ania told her. Lysia stared at her in horror; it was easy to tell, because there were two of her now.

"Force, you’re drunk! Really drunk. Do you want to get caught or something?"

"‘M all alooooone," Ania told her. "‘Loooooone. Oooooooown."

"You idiot. You utter, utter - come on. Sun’s coming up anyway. Gotta get you back, before you get any worse. Force! Last time I do you any favours, that’s for sure."

Someone was talking. They seemed to have been talking for hours, actually; he could barely remember it being quiet. The whole place smelled funny, not like a passenger ship but more like a... well, an infirmary. Not his infirmary, though.

If he really concentrated, he could make out the words, and almost the voice behind them -

"So Brianna took him onto the mat and completely laid waste to the little schutta’s ego. You should’ve seen it, Malak, it was hilarious. Ten-year-old girl, thirteen-year-old boy. ‘Course, this does mean that she could probably have beaten you, but, well... oh, hell. You’d better wake up soon; I’m running out of inanities."

Revan, he realised. Had to be; her voice, and nobody else could use a word like ‘inanities’ with a straight face.

"It was raining earlier," Revan continued. "I think it’s stopped now. Force. Talk about scraping the barrel. You’re a much better conversationalist when you’re awake, you know."

But he was awake. At least, he felt awake, and he always knew when he was dreaming because he felt asleep, so...

It took more effort than usual, but he finally managed to get his eyes open. The first thing he saw was Revan, staring off into the distance with a look of some concentration on her face, as though she was trying to work out what she hadn’t already said.

"And you did say you’d be waking up soon. My throat’s awfully dry. I hope you’re happy.

"Uh," Malak said, which was meant to be it’s all right, you can stop now. His mouth was dry, too; even if he’d been able to open it, he suspected that he wouldn’t have been much more eloquent.

It got her attention, at least; she glanced down, then did a visible double-take as she realised that he wasn’t just making coma noises, but actually had his eyes open and focused on her. "Oh!"

Malak smiled at her, sort of, then decided that this was a stupid way to hold a conversation. If he shut his eyes, he was sure, he’d go out again, so instead he focused on her nose and, hoping she wouldn’t interrupt, began to take a serious ‘look’ at the damage.

Hm. Not that much, really, just a nasty blow to the head which seemed to be resolving, slowly; if he focused, he could speed it up - had done it before, though not on himself - so he did, pushing gently, careful not to go too far or too fast in case he undid his work as he went. He probably wasn’t supposed to do this, but really, making Revan keep talking would be cruel.

She was fingering her nose by the time he finished. Probably hadn’t been a good choice of focus; it was a bit pointy, and he had a feeling that Revan, despite all her protestations to the contrary, did occasionally look in a mirror and wish she was prettier. Personally, if Malak had had to choose, he’d have fixed her lips, which were barely there at all.

"Sorry," he said, and she jumped. "I needed a focus, and it was the nearest thing."

Force, his mouth was still so dry, though. He mentioned this to Revan, who gestured to a glass by the bed.

"I’ve been talking to you non-stop for four hours now. Go on, my spit’s clean enough."

"S’disgusting," Malak informed her, but he was too thirsty to really argue; for once, he overrode his hygienic instinct and gulped half of it down. Oh, hell. He’d probably upset his stomach now. "Thanks."

"No problem. Um. Where did you come in?"

"Someone called Brianna?"

"Right. Beating the pride out of the little... who knocked you out. Well, he is still injured, I suppose; it was hardly a fair fight."

"Right," Malak said. "Er, how long’ve I been -?"

"About four days. You missed your exam, Malak. I’m sorry."

"Oh, it doesn’t matter," Malak said, though it did; he’d have to go through all of this again, now, and Zhar would probably push him harder than ever after this. "I can always take it next time."

She grinned awkwardly. "Pretty ironic reason to miss a medical exam, though, isn’t it?"

"It is," he agreed, and they lapsed into silence.

He must have drifted off after that; when he woke up again, it was to find both Revan and Kae, along with a man who was probably a doctor - he gave Malak one of those patronising little smiles which should be saved for those under five and said, "Well, and how are we feeling?"

"We," Malak informed him, "are opening our eyes spontaneously, responding coherently to questions, fully oriented and able to obey simple commands if you give us any, which gives us a total score of fifteen on the Alderaan Coma Scale, thereby making us fully conscious. Don’t patronise me. I should’ve been taking my medical exams yesterday."

"Oh," the man said, and coughed awkwardly. "Sorry. Well, if I could just confirm that last one -"

"Go ahead," Malak said, and sat through ten minutes of tests until the doctor, apparently staggered, finally admitted that he was in fact fully conscious and, apart from being tired, completely healed.

He left then, muttering about Jedi and how he’d never seen such a speedy recovery in his life. When he was sure the man was out of earshot, Malak said, "Should I tell him how it happened, Master?"

"That’s up to you. I don’t think he needs to know. And we do have a reputation as superheroes to uphold. Of course, he may not fully believe you even if you did tell him... ah, the galaxy is full of sceptics. I should go - I’m expecting a reply from the Council soon, as to what we should do with our Mandalorian friends."

She left; Revan, in response to Malak’s questioning look, said, "They were new recruits. You know, thirteen-year-olds? Nobody’s sure what to do with them. Depending on how the Republic reacts to this, they might even be prisoners of war, though I honestly doubt it. They’ve had four days to call this war; if they haven’t yet, well...

"Actually, now you mention it... they did seem young at the time. Didn’t have much time to worry about it, though."

"Mm," Revan said. She seemed to have something on her mind. "Look, Malak - "

"Yes?"

"I... missed you," Revan said, in a small voice. "A lot."

Well, Malak thought, as she gave an obviously forced smile and began to recount the inanities which he had missed earlier, that was something, at least. Definitely worth remembering.

The whole squad had survived! Those Jedi really were weak. And not only had they not killed their prisoners, but they’d healed them...

It would, Bandon thought, be all too easy to escape. Their stupid Republic couldn’t honestly have believed that putting a crack squad of Mandalorian warriors in the care of such pathetic fighters was a sensible idea? It would be one of their weeks, at most, before they’d escaped and rejoined their clan.

"Dan-too-iiine," Sharda said, slowly, as they were loaded onto the ship that would take them to their temporary prison. "If we haven’t defeated it yet, there can’t be much there."

"Farms," Bandon told her. "Farms and farmers, and Jedi. Nothing worth doing, except escaping."

She laughed. "Shouldn’t be too hard. Steal a couple of those laserswords, live off the farmland, and we’d reach a spaceport eventually if we kept moving. Failing that -"

"Failing that, smash a couple of farm-heads together, and the blithering weaklings’ll give us a map," Jassdun put in. She nodded.

"And then it’s home, clan, and glory all round. Come on. Might as well go quietly; they’ll be expecting trouble on the flight. Easier to escape once we’re there."

As if missing his exams wasn’t bad enough, Zhar obviously took the news that his Padawan had fallen to a thirteen-year-old to be proof that Malak needed to spend less time in the infirmary and more on the training mats; Malak, who couldn’t deny that he had been failing to fulfil his ten-year-old promise to keep his marks level of late, had few valid arguments against it. Well, there was one, but he doubted Zhar would consider it; it didn’t seem to have occurred to him so far.

Zhar picked at every tiny flaw in every stance, every movement, until finally, one day, Vrook of all people called out to him to leave the boy alone, he was form-perfect. Not that this helped matters much; rather, Zhar simply began teaching Malak a new form, then another. He had nothing else to do: there was never any real call for combat Jedi on Coruscant, and he was once more forbidden to leave.

It was generally expected that a Guardian, by the time of becoming a Knight, should have mastered the basic form and at least one other; preferably they should be well on the way to getting a handle on a third.

Six months after the Kheen invasion, Malak had four mastered, two of those perfected, and finally snapped one morning when Zhar, without warning, made an off-hand comment about tackling Ataru.

"With all due respect, Master," he said through gritted teeth, "it won’t help. None of this will help."

Zhar frowned slightly. "Go on."

"For one thing, you’re not giving me time to consolidate these properly, and trying to get me to switch forms in the middle of combat when I can barely keep them separate in my mind as it is isn’t helping. Secondly, this isn’t the problem. The problem is that before that Mandalorian squad attacked us, I’d never been in a combat situation before in my life. In fact, everyone I’ve fought in the past four years or so - excluding Mandalorians - is somebody who I’ve known for ages. I know how they fight, I know their styles by heart, and there’s no real element of surprise when, for example, Revan beats me to a bloody pulp. Everyone knows it’s going to happen before we even step onto the mat."

"What about Lysia? She’s helped a great deal, I must say -"

"She’s still only one person, Master. Being able to hold my own against Lysia just means I’m used to how Lysia fights, doesn’t it? Not to mention that she’s never trying to kill me."

Zhar nodded, slowly, then smiled. "I wondered how much farther I would have to push you. You do not break easily, Malak."

"What?"

"How long have you been hiding this... revelation? About opponents?"

"A while," Malak admitted. "I think I was about sixteen when I realised."

"And I have been waiting for you to realise since you were, ah... twelve, I think." Zhar sighed, and gestured Malak towards the benches that lined the training hall. "I always knew this would be a problem. You are right; you know almost everyone in this Temple, and though a string of sparring partners would have some effect, it is still not the same, as you have undoubtedly observed. However, given your... unique condition, I hardly wanted to give you still more false hopes about getting offworld and seeing the galaxy."

"So you lied to me," Malak said, surprisingly calmly given how angry he felt, "and held me back on purpose."

"I omitted certain truths, and I have hardly held you back. In fact, Vrook has been asking after you for a while now - not Ania, Malak, not Revan, but you. Close your mouth, please; a gaping maw is very unsightly."

"Sorry," Malak said, and just stared instead.

"He wants to take over your training," Zhar said. "For the next six months, at least; he has decided that it is about time somebody went to tackle slavers on the Rim again, and I believe he is planning to use Dantooine as a base of operations. I had told him that you weren’t ready, but... perhaps you are."

Dantooine. The word leapt out; hardly surprising, really, since it’d been the subject of many a fond daydream for years now. Grass. Trees. Gizka, most likely, unless a miracle had been worked in the past ten years. No Force-migraine. No people...

...no Ania, no Revan.

"Of course," Zhar continued, watching him closely, "although Dantooine does have an infirmary, your Healer’s training would still suffer. And since you seem to find my standards too exacting, I should warn you that he will be worse."

Oh, well, the infirmary wasn’t a problem. He’d spent hours cataloguing the Dantooine wildlife, and had been nowhere near finished when he left - sentients could wait, as long as he got to take those exams. And Ania just needed someone to talk to occasionally; didn’t really matter if it was him or Revan.

Revan, though...

Oh, get a grip. He’d miss her, fine. Judging by what she’d said when he woke up, she’d miss him, too, but that was hardly an incurable problem. If anything, the distance ought to help with his predicament.

And Vrook would have to make trips back to Coruscant occasionally, so it wasn’t as if he’d not see them for the whole time, anyway...

He looked over at Zhar, who was waiting patiently, and said, "All right."