8: Lehon

It's a funny feeling, waiting on the brink of something you always knew would come about, yet spent every minute in between the time you first knew and now doubting that it would really come together.

She stands calmly on the roof of the Temple, barefaced, wearing a short gray tunic, dark gray trousers and a closely-tailored gray robe, with her two lightsabers clipped neatly to her belt. Malak never understood the purpose of her mask, her robes, her mission. She wants him to realize how little he understands her, because fool though he may be, he is not such a fool as to think her one as well. He will see there is a design to her methods, a reason for her acting the way she has, and maybe whatever remains of his brain will put two and two together.

Not that she's holding her breath.

An hour ago, she felt him and three other Force-sensitives enter the Temple. She doesn't need to think to know their names; they rise up when a thought so much as brushes them: Bastila Shan, Jolee Bindo, Juhani. She has watched him closely since she discovered he had not died at Chibias, and she knows everywhere he has been, everything he has done, every one of his companions. Considering "Senn"'s social skills, she probably knows them better than he does.

She is not surprised it has taken him over an hour to reach her, as the Temple has not been empty since she and Malak first began this war almost three years ago. The students in the Temple are some of those with her on the Star Forge, the ones who have a dangerous interest in the Dark Side, and the ability to do something with it. Whoever makes it to the Temple roof will be the more dangerous enemy, and she will take them out herself.

Part of her reminds her of when she did not think in terms of executions, assassinations, domination and intergalactic power. The remembrance hurts, but unlike all her predecessors, she knows the day she silences that part is the day she fails.

Her ambition has never been to rule the Republic - only an idiot would want such power - but to protect it, turn it into something great, something that would not fall when challenged by those that lurk outside the galaxy's borders. A tyrant could not do such a thing, and a tyrant is what she would become if she refused to consider what this ambition has cost her, and those around her.

The poor, pathetically blind Jedi Masters prattled about a Jedi's life being sacrifice, without coming within a million miles of what sacrifices would really be necessary to save the Republic. Malak dismissed their millennia of experience, completely missing the fact that if something lasts millennia then there is something to it. She saw it. She turned her back on the Jedi, too high-minded and squeamish to face what was necessary. She took on the facade only of the Sith, too arrogant and egotistical to see the shortsightedness of their own strategies. The mask she wears disgusts her. The robes she wears chafe her. The Star Forge she runs unsettles her. And every night, she sees the tens and hundreds of millions who have died because of her. Only her regrets keep her from the Dark Side. Only the knowledge that it was necessary keeps her from killing herself.

Faintly, through highly-tuned senses, she can hear the door to the roof opening. She recognizes the footfall of those approaching, and breathes deeply. Her old apprentice is coming, as loud, clumsy, thick-headed and arrogant as the last time they met, his "reprogramming" at the Jedi Council's hand notwithstanding. The person to his right is agitated, uneasy and deeply tainted by the Dark Side - Bastila, suffering from the effects of her well-intentioned yet misguided bond. The person to his left, by contrast, is focused on the present, self-controlled, and unshakably devoted to a light-tinged gray alignment - Jolee Bindo. Behind him stalks the Cathar, tumultuous inside but determined to hold to the Light Side that keeps her emotions in check.

Once more, she reviews her attack plans, when the inevitable battle comes to pass. She rests her hands on the hilts of her lightsabers, but does not draw them. The shield attached to her wrist, specifically designed by her own hands to provide incomparable protection against lightsabers and Force attacks, remains unactivated. She stands calmly on the roof of the Temple, a small piece of her still amazed that she has come to be here at all.

A/N: Fini!

I realize i'm leaving a lot unfinished...The trouble with a premise like this is there are so many questions raised - would Malak be recognized? How would Revan handle the search for Malak? Would (s)he track him down earlier than Malak did Revan? What different decisions would Malak make? Would he choose LS or DS? Would he get the same companions? In this instance, i chose to stick pretty close to the game's plot, with some obvious changes. After this, however, there isn't even a basic plot-line to follow any more. I'm not completely abandoning it, however! I am working on a sequel, but as i haven't even finished the prologue yet - and my finished stories to incomplete stories ratio is terribly depressing - i can't make any promises about it coming out any time soon.

I started this story for my own enjoyment, after some conversations with my sister about what would happen if a gray-sided Revan conquered the Republic, and when i liked how it turned out, i decided to publish it here on . I'm thrilled that other people enjoyed it as well! Special thanks to rockforthecross74 and Kurlan Aank for your positive reviews! Having regular readers is a new experience for me, and i've enjoyed it a lot. I hope you like this final chapter.

And finally, the people, places and things mentioned herein are the property of Bioware/Lucas Arts - though the personalities of Malak and Revan are mostly mine.

1 Corinthians 1:26-31