A/N: Having to be funny all the time gets immensely tiring after a while, so I started writing this as a break from my KOTOR
parody. It's not a funny story (at least not intentionally), so if you're looking for something like YAKP, be warned. All reviews gratefully accepted...

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Part 1

Looking back, he couldn't think when he'd first started to love her. It might have been on Kashyyyk, where they had finally stolen the kiss that both of them had secretly longed for. It could have been back on Tatooine, when he'd found her sitting silently in a dark corner of the ship, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she gazed at her dead father's holocron. Or perhaps it went as far back as their first meeting on Taris, where, despite the scornful arrogance with which she had treated him, he'd found himself drawn to her in a way which was both infuriating and impossible to explain.

He knew now that her coldness was just a front, a defence mechanism to conceal her own doubts and fears. She'd been terrified by her feelings for him, the man who had almost destroyed the galaxy; she'd feared that he would return to the Dark Side, and take her with him. As he drew closer to her, slowly coming to understand her constant struggle against her darker emotions, his initial feelings of irritation had faded – gradually replaced by compassion, respect, and eventually love.

He hadn't realised how much he loved her, however, until their interrogation aboard the Leviathan. He still winced at the memory of her horrible screams and Saul's cold, detached voice, tormenting him with the knowledge that he was responsible for her suffering. He had felt her pain, sharing each searing jolt of agony which convulsed her body, and at that moment he knew he would rather face any torture the Sith could devise for him than see her hurt like that again.

Yet now, again, he could sense that she was suffering. Not physical pain, but a sort of spiritual ache: shame, misery, guilt. Feelings that he was all too familiar with himself, yet he knew that in a way it must be worse for her; he could barely remember anything of his previous life, whereas Bastila's memories of her fall to the Dark Side were all too fresh in her mind.

He longed to comfort her. But since they escaped the Star Forge she had barely spoken to him or any of the others; she had shut herself up in her cabin and remained there for the rest of the day, not even coming out for meals. Sensing that she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, he had so far resisted the temptation to go to her, but it was becoming harder and harder – especially now, at night, when he had nothing to distract himself with.

Sighing, he leaned back and rested his head against his arms, wondering what to do. He was still deep in thought, when a harsh, metallic voice broke through his reflections. "Query: Are you in any distress, master?"

Startled, Revan sat up and looked across at the sleek, copper-coloured droid which stood patiently by his door. "HK, I thought I asked you to turn yourself off?"

"Answer: No, master, you gave me no such order." The droid swivelled his head slightly towards the door. "Since this ship contains a considerable number of unfamiliar meatbags, I assumed that you wished me to stand guard."

Revan couldn't help smiling. "There's no need to be so suspicious, HK. Everyone here is part of the Republic."

"Explanation: I am always suspicious of organic meatbags, master. They are most infuriatingly unpredictable." The Jedi smiled faintly, but made no reply. After a minute, HK continued: "Observation: You appear dissatisfied, master. Is something causing you distress?"

"Bastila..." Lost in his own thoughts once more, Revan was barely listening to HK, but the droid's eyes lit up with a fiery glow at the mention of Bastila's name.

"Query: Would you like me to dispose of her for you, master?"

"I – what? No, of course not!" Revan struggled to conceal his irritation. There were times when he found his assassin droid's almost insatiable blood-lust amusing, but this was not one of them. "I don't want her 'disposed of', HK, now or at any time in the future. Understand?"

"Acknowledgement: Perfectly, master." The droid spoke with the weary resignation of one indulging a child's whim. Revan's mind was clearly elsewhere, however; he sat hesitantly on the edge of his bed, drumming his fingers against the covers. After a minute, he appeared to come to a decision.

"I'm going to see her." He stood up and began to put on his robe. "You can put yourself into sleep mode, HK."

"Acknowledgement: Very well, master. As you wish."

HK-47 stood in silent contemplation as Revan left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Despite his fondness for his master, HK found himself forced to admit that the former Dark Lord appeared no less illogical than any of his fellow meatbags. If the Jedi Bastila was a problem, why not simply eliminate her? His best guess was that the two humans were engaged in some kind of elaborate mating ritual, though how organics ever managed to reproduce in this manner was beyond him. He sighed and, with the mechanical equivalent of a shrug, switched his central processor into standby mode.

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Bastila was curled up in an armchair in the corner of her room, her robe wrapped tightly around her. She hardly knew herself how many hours she had been sitting there, barely stirring, her eyes fixed vacantly on the opposite wall. Even when Jolee knocked on her door earlier in the evening, she had remained immobile, silently willing him to leave her alone.

"Bastila? I've brought you some food. Try to eat something, kid..." She'd waited until she heard his footsteps retreat down the corridor before retrieving the tray. The food still lay on the table by her bedside, stone-cold and untouched.

She couldn't face leaving the room. The evening before, when the crew of the Ebon Hawk had been taken aboard the Republic's flagship... she'd heard the muttered comments of the troops who accompanied them, felt the hostile eyes burning into her as she walked past. And what was worse, she couldn't blame them – they knew nothing of what she had suffered in the Temple, or the tremendous struggle which had taken place within her on board the Star Forge. To them she was simply a traitor, yet another so-called 'hero' who had betrayed the Republic...

But it was the reactions of her own friends that she truly dreaded. None of them had said much to her on board the Hawk, but the expressions on their faces spoke volumes – Carth's quiet disappointment, Canderous's scorn, and worst of all, Mission's well-meaning sympathy. She could have endured almost anything else – anger, blame, reproach – but she couldn't bear to be pitied, as if her crimes had been the act of a foolish child who didn't know any better. And so she hid in her room, hating herself for her cowardice, yet unable to stand the thought of compassion from a girl a decade younger than her.

And then, of course, there was Revan. She'd been avoiding him as well, though not for the same reasons. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him; in a way there was nothing she wanted more than to be held and kissed by him as she had been on the Star Forge, sheltered in the warmth and safety of his arms. Yet at the same time she dreaded it, because she knew what would inevitably follow...

The sudden disturbance in the Force, though slight, made her tremble. Oh, gods, he was coming here... could he have realised that she was thinking about him? She shook her head and breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself. Even with the growing strength of the bond between them, it was hardly possible that he could read her thoughts.

She could feel his approach, even before she heard the footsteps and the soft knock on her door. "Bastila, it's me. May I come in?" She did not reply immediately, but hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the control panel which would unlock her door. Finally, with a strange sense of resignation, she softly tapped the button and watched the door slide open.

The room seemed to flood with warmth as Revan stepped through the doorway. He wore nothing but his robe over a pair of leggings, and she couldn't help feeling a tinge of excitement at being so close to him. As he entered his eyes fell upon the tray by her bedside, and he shot her a dismayed glance. "Oh, Bastila. You haven't been eating?"

"I wasn't hungry." She turned her head away slightly, unable to meet his eyes.

He walked over to her chair and bent over her, his face anxious and troubled.

"Why have you been hiding from me, my love?"

Bastila shifted uneasily. "You know why."

"No, I don't," he answered honestly. "Look... I know you're feeling guilty about what you did, but I don't blame you for it. None of us do..."

"Well, you should." She spoke sharply, looking directly at him for the first time. "I'm not a baby, Revan. When did I stop being responsible for my own actions?"

He shook his head. "You know that's not what I meant. Bastila, you were tortured and brainwashed by Malak. Even Masters have fallen to the Dark Side under torture –"

"But it wasn't that." Her voice was beginning to tremble. "It wasn't torture that caused me to fall, it was my own pride, my... stupidity. You don't understand..."

"So explain it to me," he said quietly.

She winced. "No. Please, Revan, don't make me talk about it."

Revan sighed. "All right, I won't... but please, you have to stop tormenting yourself like this. You've suffered enough already."

"I deserve it," she muttered, dropping her eyes again.

"No, you don't." Revan's eyes flashed. "Look, do you think I didn't feel the same way when I found out I was the Dark Lord?" His voice grew lower and harder. "I wanted to kill myself, did you realise that?"

She looked up at him, startled. Rather more calmly, he continued, "But I didn't, because I realised that it wouldn't change anything and it wouldn't help anyone. What's done is done, Bastila – all we can do now is try and make up for the damage we caused. Understand?"

Tears pricked her eyes. "I know you're right, Revan, but it doesn't make the guilt any easier to stand."

"I know," he said softly. "That's why I'm here." He reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Let me comfort you, Bastila."

His touch was like an electric shock. She shrank back involuntarily, causing Revan to drop his hand in surprise. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." She flushed deep red, mortified by her lack of self-control. "I'm sorry."

Revan took her face in his hands, gently turning it back towards his. "You're afraid, aren't you?" he whispered. "I thought you told me you weren't afraid any more."

"No, I..." All at once she was gripped by the same sense of helplessness that always came over her when she was near him, as if some force far more powerful than either of them were pushing them together. Suddenly all she wanted was to yield to the inevitable, to get the worst over with. After all, how bad could it possibly be?

She pushed his hands away and stood up so quickly that he had to take a step backwards. "I'm not afraid." Her voice was no longer hesitant, but clear and resolute. "Kiss me, Revan."

"Bastila –"

She put a finger to his lips. "Please. Just kiss me..."

Needing no further invitation, Revan drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. Calming waves of Force energy pulsed through her; pain, guilt and fear began to drain away as his strength flowed into her through their bond, and suddenly she was engulfed by an overwhelming sense of elation and relief. What had she been so afraid of? He was so kind; of course he wouldn't do anything to harm her.

They stood there together for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, with an effort, Revan broke his lips away from hers. "Better?" he murmured. She nodded, unable to speak, and rested her head against his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful..." His voice was a hoarse whisper. Before she could respond he had bent her over backwards and was kissing her again, harder and deeper. She slipped her arms up around his neck and closed her eyes, oblivious to anything but the warmth and tenderness of his embrace. A faint groan escaped her as his lips gradually explored her mouth, her face, her neck...

He ran his fingers down her spine, and a shudder of desire ran through her whole body. She opened her eyes and looked up into his face; he was gazing down at her, a silent questioning in his eyes. She could sense how much he longed for her, and suddenly she felt an intense ache of love for him. He had risked everything for her; how could she deny him this?

She nodded wordlessly, and his face lit up with joy. Momentarily releasing her from his grip, he slid her robe from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over to the bed and tossing her down on it in one fluid motion. She gasped, breathless with anticipation and a twinge of fear.

Revan pulled off his own robe and flung it over a chair; a moment later he was beside her, pulling her against him, burning lips pressed hungrily against hers. She felt his hands begin to caress her, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her body, and heard him breathe her name. Then suddenly he was half on top of her, kissing her with a fierce intensity that almost frightened her, fumbling with the buttons of her nightdress –

– and she was lying on the floor of her cell in the Temple, faint from hunger and lack of sleep, the cold, rough flagstones digging into her back. Faces swam above her – Malak, somewhere in the background, and two Dark Jedi, their eyes hard and glittering behind their face-concealing masks. One of the men held her down, pinning her arms behind her head; the other was knelt over her, pulling at the belt of her tunic...

"No!" She struggled frantically, but days of torture had left her weak and exhausted, and they'd put some kind of collar on her which prevented her from using the Force... "No, please! Help me!" Her screams echoed uselessly around the thick stone walls; no one was there to hear her, or care if they did. She saw the mocking glint in the Dark Jedi's eyes as he ripped open her tunic, clawing at her skin with his hands –

"No... NO!" She struck out wildly at her attacker, tearing her lips away from his, trying to push the heavy body away from her. He grunted in surprise, and she felt his grip slacken. "Get off me!" she howled, blinded with tears, and in one last desperate attempt to free herself she flung a burst of Force energy at him. There was a crash, a cry of pain...

Bastila opened her eyes. She was not in the Temple, but lying on her bed in the security of her own cabin. Malak and the Dark Jedi were nowhere to be seen, but on the floor opposite her was Revan – Revan, gazing up at her in utter bewilderment, his face white with pain and shock. He was panting heavily, too badly shaken to speak.

"Bastila..." he managed at last. "Bastila, what the hell?" She could not reply; the enormity of what she had done was only just beginning to dawn on her. "I thought – I thought you wanted..."

"Revan –" She tried to speak, but he wasn't listening. Painfully he dragged himself to his feet, still struggling for breath.

"You didn't have to do that." He was trying to stay calm, but his voice trembled with anger. "I would never hurt you, Bastila. Never. You didn't need to use the Force against me –" Again she attempted to speak, but he had grabbed his robe and was already striding towards the door. "Never mind. Forget it. I... I think I'd better just leave, hadn't I?"

The hurt in his eyes was more than she could bear. She leapt off the bed and threw herself in front of the door, blocking his way. "No, don't! Revan, please, I'm sorry..." Revan was staring at her in disbelief. He must think I'm completely mad...

"Please," she tried again, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. "It wasn't your fault. I - I thought I'd got over it..." Tears were welling up in her eyes, and her throat ached so badly that she could hardly get the words out.

Revan was still gazing at her in bemusement. "What? Got over what?" A sudden suspicion began to dawn in his face. "Bastila, what happened to you in the Temple?"

She couldn't speak, but the look on her face told him all he needed to know. He groaned and sank down onto the bed, lowering his head into his hands. "Malak?" he muttered, almost too quietly to be heard.

"His men. Two of them –" Bastila got no further. Her strength gave out and she collapsed onto the bed, choking with sobs, barely able to breathe. Revan pulled her into his lap and held her close, cradling her shuddering body in his arms.

"Oh, no. No. Oh, Bastila..." He looked utterly sickened. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I couldn't." Her face was hidden in his robe, as if she could hardly bear to look at him. "I didn't even want to think about it, Revan. I felt so... dirty. So ashamed. And I thought –"

"What did you think?"

She raised agonised eyes to his. "I thought... you might not want me any more if..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the expression on his face.

"You thought that?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You honestly believed I would be that... that cruel? That shallow?"

She groaned. "I don't know what I thought. Oh, Revan, I'm sorry..."

Revan heaved a sigh. "Listen to me, Bastila," he said gruffly. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't your fault. And nothing those bastards could do to you would ever make me abandon you or stop loving you. Understood?"

She nodded mutely, and he held her for a while in silence, gently stroking her hair. "How can I help you?" he murmured eventually.

"Just... stay with me." He made no answer, but continued to clasp her to him as if she were the most precious thing he could imagine, burying his lips into her hair. Finally the tension in her body began to relax, and her breathing grew slower and quieter; physically and emotionally exhausted, she had fallen asleep.

Revan laid her carefully down on the bed, drawing the covers over her. He gazed down at her face, still pale and wet with tears, trying vainly to comprehend what she must have been through at the hands of the Sith. He knew how proud she was, and how sensitive; to be treated like that must have been an unimaginable humiliation for her. No wonder she had fallen to the Dark Side...

He felt a sudden burst of fury – at Malak, at the men who'd hurt her, but most of all at himself for failing to protect her. He'd told her mother he would take care of her, and how had he lived up to his promise? By letting her sacrifice herself to save him; by abandoning her on board the Leviathan, leaving her to be tortured and raped while he played at being a Sith on Korriban. She had finally overcome her fear and mistrust, allowing herself to fall in love with him against her own better judgement – and he'd screwed it up, just like he'd screwed up everything else in his life.

A horrible thought struck him. Had he committed similar acts of cruelty himself, back when he was the Dark Lord? Just thinking about it made him want to vomit. Even if he hadn't, it hardly mattered; the knowledge that he had been capable of it brought home to him, more forcefully than anything else could, just how much of a monster he had been.

What would he be now, if she hadn't saved his life? A tortured spirit like Ajunta Pall, drowning in hatred and darkness? He'd been a traitor, a brutal, murderous tyrant – if anyone had ever deserved such a fate, it was him. Yet she'd risked her own life to save him, to give him another chance...

He clutched her to him, holding her so tightly that she whimpered in her sleep. I won't leave you again, Bastila. Never again... Almost as if she had heard him, she murmured something and slipped an arm under his. Sighing, he laid his head down next to hers and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander until he himself finally drifted off into sleep.