Disclaimer: KOTOR2 belongs to Lucasarts. Et cetera, et cetera, et ceteraaaa

Notes: This is a major rewrite of my fanfic "Consumed", which you may or may not have read before. I felt that the fic hadn't reached its full potential, and the feeling bothered me to the extreme. So, this is my attempt to realize that potential. I am now reasonably content.

What's in the rewrite? Well, expect to see Mical's POV (gasp!), flashbacks that explain the background story (yay!), and an improved ending (woohoo!). If you've read the old version and enjoyed it, I encourage you to read this one. It's different enough that it should be worthwhile, and I would greatly appreciate your feedback on the changes. As for new readers: full steam ahead! But first, here are a couple of things for all readers to keep in mind.

(1) Each chapter is told from a different POV, so please pay attention to the chapter headings.
(2) Flashbacks, which start in the second chapter, are italicized.

One last sidenote. I listened to lots of Evanescence while writing this, as well as "Diary of Jane" by Breaking Benjamin, "Breathe Into Me" by Red, and "Animal I Have Become" by Three Days Grace. Meaning this is an "alternative metal" kind of story. Very emotional. Be warned.

Part I: Atton

You're walking through the cathedral-like room, looking around in concern, your stance agitated. Oh, how sweet. You're looking for her. You really do care.

My cracked lips twist in a smile as I watch you from behind a pillar. I knew you'd come because I know you better than you think. I knew you'd be worried sick over her, and you wouldn't obey her order to stay on the ship. You'd come looking for her like the lovesick puppy you are.

And I knew you'd end up here, not at all suspecting I'm here with you, watching you from the shadows.

I smother a chuckle. Yeah, some Jedi you are. Aren't you supposed to sense me or something? Is the darkness in this place too much for your tiny Jedi senses, or am I just that good at hiding?

You start walking in my direction. I freeze every muscle in my body, becoming as still as the statues in this room. As you come closer, I burn with the longing to step out in front of you, to thrust my saber into your gut and watch you writhe 'til you die.

But . . . no, that just won't do. Every revenge story needs a striking ending. First you'll learn why you must die, and then you will, but only after you've had time to angst about it.

Besides, every gentleman deserves some last words.

So I stay frozen, holding myself back until you pass by. Then I slip away from my hiding place and glide after you. My footsteps are nonexistent, my breathing quieter than a corpse's as I slip from shadow to shadow. I'm amazed by how naturally my assassin training's returned to me. Maybe I've always been a killer at heart.

Suddenly, you stop dead in your tracks, alerted to my presence. I'm so frustrated I want to spit, but I decide to snag this opportunity. Before you can turn around, I move to stand behind your shoulder.

"Hey, kid."

You turn around with a start, a response that's only vaguely entertaining. It's your horrified reaction when you see me straight on that really gives me a kick. Pale eyes, cracked skin . . . yeah, I know what I look like. The darkness on this planet's done a real number on me.

See if I care.

"Atton?" Your expression shifts from horror to distrust. "The Exile. Where is she?"

Of course you would ask about her. "She's safe. You don't need to worry about her. You never did, really."

Not like I did. You never cared about protecting her. You stole her from me.

The thought's run through my head dozens of times. This time, though, there's no hollowness, no burning regret. This time there's a hunger that only blood can satisfy. I smile at the familiar feeling. Welcome back, Jaq.

Striking a careless pose, I circle around you and enjoy the feeling of having you right where I want you. Though I keep my voice casual, every word is thick with the hunger I feel.

"You know how long it's been since I killed a Jedi? You get a taste for it, you know. I killed a bunch here on Malachor, while the planet was dying. Killing a half-Jedi like you should hold me over until the next one comes along. They always do, you know."

"Atton, Kreia is using you!"

A memory pierces my thoughts, one of a witch clawing into my mind, breaking, stealing, destroying. Then a memory of her smiling coldly at me in her quarters while I'm shaking with rage, choking back tears . . . because of you.

Grimacing, I throw up an extra mental wall. Ain't no way you're gonna leech that from me.

"Really? I had no idea." I laugh. "Everyone uses each other, kid. And if she's using me to kill you, as I see it, I really don't lose anything."

Except one thing.

Like an echo, the thought threatens to make me feel hollow again. I channel it into my hunger instead, and my voice turns dark.

"I already lost what mattered to me. I wanted to protect her, to help her, and then you show up, playing hero." I finger my saber. "Fine."

"Atton, the feelings between the Exile and I—"

"Doesn't matter. Not anymore. I'd forgotten how much I hate Jedi. And the less of you that are in the galaxy, the better."

Liars.

Manipulators.

Murderers.

I flick my saber on, unleashing a blue blade of energy.

"Ready to die, kid?"

Your muscles stiffen. Your eyes flame.

"I won't fight you, Atton!"

Oh, no you don't. I won't let your pretended nobility steal this from me. Leveling you with a cold stare, I answer flatly: "I don't care, I just want you to die."

Then, with a Force scream, I leap the distance between us.

I just want you to die.

I want all of you to die.