Hayle counted the days to Manaan by the cuts on her forearms.  On the fifth day, the last day of the long trip, she got up, made the bed, and took a shower to wash the blood from her skin.  She knew how to heal herself through the Force by now, but the edges of the wounds stayed raw and unmended as she dusted off the old Echani armor she had purchased on Taris.  Her Jedi robes sat, folded neatly, next to her lightsabers at the foot of the bed.  Picking up her vibroblades from the nightstand, she wiped them clean and slid them into the sheaths hanging from her hips.

Just like old times.  Oh, hell, who was she kidding?

Sweeping her damp hair up into a ponytail, she walked out of the Captain’s quarters and into the common area.  Carth and Jolee were sitting there, waiting for her, looking much as they had five days ago; namely, Carth was pissed and Jolee was quite unsurprised.  Hayle could feel Carth’s eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Jolee was the first to break the silence.  “Damn, kid…”  Carth’s lips were pressed into a thin, angry line.  What…?  She looked down at herself.

Oh.

The armor was cheap, which had been a necessity at the time, and ended at her shoulders, leaving the weeping gashes on her arms exposed.  Defensively, she moved her hands from where they were resting at her sides and instead clasped them behind her back.

“Hayle.”  She glanced up reflexively.  Carth had taken a step towards her, and a flicker of old concern crinkled his forehead momentarily.  “Did you do that…to yourself?”  She looked away.  He didn’t really need her to answer that, and surely didn’t care anyway.  When she turned back, he had wiped the worry from his face, replacing it with the new hardness.  Her heart ached, but she pushed it aside.

“I’m fine,” she answered, automatically.  She wasn’t fine.  She was so far from fine that Carth couldn’t bear to be in the same room with her, that she didn’t trust herself to carry lightsabers, that she cut herself at night but felt no pain and got blood on the sheets.

Jolee was watching her warily.  Whether he was wondering if she was going to collapse or suddenly mutate into Darth Revan, she wasn’t sure.  Clearing her throat, she asked, “Ready?”

They both nodded.  Without a backward glance, Hayle walked towards the boarding ramp.  “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can…” she mumbled to herself, but the sentence hung in the air unfinished.

Jolee spoke from her right, startling her.  “The sooner you can what, kid?”  He gave her a bland look that said he knew exactly what she was planning, and that he knew he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, make any move to stop her.

She shook her head and kept walking.  Beside her, Carth said nothing.

* * *

Carth watched her out of the corner of his eye as she sliced her way into the Sith base security system.   Hayle typed furiously with one hand, the other resting on the hilt of a vibroblade.  His gaze traveled up, past her wrists to her forearms, where ten deep, bloody slashes bit into her pale skin.  Blood still oozed from the wounds, sluggishly, but she refused to heal them, and had snapped at Jolee when he had tried.

He couldn’t help it.  He was concerned.  Concerned for a former Sith Lord.

He knew she hadn’t eaten since they had been captured by the Leviathan, which was well over six days ago now, and the armor that had been form-fitting on Taris now seemed to hang off of her.  He would bet 50 credits that stims and determination were all that were keeping her upright.

Damn it, he cared, but not about the former Sith Lord.  He cared about Hayle.

How could he want to put a blaster to Revan’s head, to hurt her so very badly for betraying the Republic and gathering the armada that had destroyed Telos and killed Morgana…and yet, want to gather Hayle into his arms and make her stop hurting.

But, of course, they were the same person.  He could hardly hug her and then shoot her.  Life wasn’t fair.  Then again, life never was.

Hayle straightened and merely nodded before stepping towards the blast doors.  She had hardly said to words to him since…since Malak.  Jolee shot him an unreadable look as he took up a support position behind one of the consoles.

There were five Sith troopers and three droids standing in the repair bay, but Hayle threw herself into the room without a second thought.  Carth cursed and dove in after her.  She had always been reckless, yes, with a penchant for the melodramatic, but this bordered on suicide.

Oh.

Thankfully, the fight ended with the three of them still standing and all the Sith on the floor.  Hayle started to move over to the broken Republic droid, but he reached out and caught her shoulder.

“You were trying to kill yourself!” he accused her hotly.

“I was not trying to kill myself,” she replied.  Her eyes were dead.

“Yet!” he shot back.  She didn’t try to deny it, merely turning away and twisting at the droid’s circuitry.  “But after you kill Malak, what’s to stop you?”  It came out more sarcastic than he meant it to.

“No one!” Hayle answered quickly, spitefully.  She froze for a moment, realizing the slip, before calmly setting to work again.  “I mean, nothing.  But I will take Malak down before then, you don’t need to worry.”

“But I do.”  It was his turn to freeze, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to take it back, so it just hung awkwardly in the silence.

Hayle misinterpreted his words, as usual.  “I can take Malak, Carth.  Doubt me all you want, but I am not going to fall to the Dark Side again, and I am going to beat him.”  She yanked the data module out with unnecessary force, and it sparked a little in her hands.

He folded his arms across his chest.  “Then why are you trying so hard to throw your life away?”

She knelt and stuffed the module into the small backpack they had brought with them and swung the straps over her shoulders.  “I’m not throwing my life away, I’m trying to protect yours.  No one else is going to get hurt because of me.”  With that, she stalked out of the room.

Carth stared at her retreating back for a few moments.  Damn it!  Why couldn’t she just be more…more Revan?  Why did she still have to be Hayle?

* * *

The decent to the ocean floor to retrieve the final Star Map was a blur, and it was only when they were back on the Ebon Hawk and in hyperspace that time seemed to slow.  The moment they lifted off and the coordinates for the Star Forge system were set in the navicomputer, Jolee cornered her in the medbay and wouldn’t let her leave until she’d consented to treatment.

“Jolee, let me out of here!” she snapped.  She and the old Jedi were squared off across the diagnostic bed; she had come in to retrieve some adrenal stims and had fallen into an ambush.  Unfortunately, he was on the side facing the door.

“I most certainly will not, young lady!  Now, you listen to me for once; you are injured and you haven’t eaten in a week.  The way I see it, you have two choices.  You can fight me, or you can sit your butt on that bed and let me treat you.”

Anger boiled in her blood; Bastila would not have been happy, but then again, Bastila was not there.  Yet another person on the list of those she had hurt.  For a moment, she was tempted to take Jolee on, but then slumped in defeat; she wasn’t about to make that list any longer than it already was.  “Fine.”

“I see that reason can actually penetrate that thick skull of yours,” Jolee harrumphed.  He thumped the bed.  “Now get up here.”

Peevishly, reluctantly, she pulled herself up and stretched out, crossing her feet at the ankles.  Jolee glanced at the readouts above her head.  “Well, kid,” he grumbled as he rummaged through the cabinets for supplies.  “Apparently, you’ve managed to give yourself dehydration, 15 deep cuts, two broken ribs, and a black eye.  What do you have to say for yourself?”

Hayle reached up and touched her eye, surprised.  She hadn’t known about that.  He harrumphed again at her silence.  “You’re gonna have to forgive me for this, kid,” he said, and just as she opened her mouth to ask what for, a needle slid into her neck.

‘Forgive him?’ she thought muzzily as her consciousness drifted away and the lights above her began to dim and blur.  ‘I’m going to kill him.’

* * *

Carth spent an uneasy night on the couch in the common area, waking up every fifteen minutes to stare at the faint glow that spilled from the medbay.  Jolee had assured him that Hayle would sleep through the night, but he wasn’t taking any chances and he didn’t want to leave her alone.  The part of him that had died with Morgana on Telos hated himself for caring.

At four in the morning he threw back the blankets in disgust and padded into the medbay, pulling a chair behind him.  She was still asleep, as promised, lips slightly parted, a lock of dark hair swept across her eyes, one of which was still slightly bruised.  Jolee had healed the worst of her injuries, made up for the lack of food and drink, and heavily sedated her, but there were still bruises.  Still scars.

She stirred slightly in her sleep and he involuntarily reached out to her before stiffening and backing away.  Sitting down on the chair with a sigh, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing at the back of his neck.  He didn’t know how to deal with this.  But really, she didn’t either.  They were both survivors of a terrible flood, but instead of clinging to one another they were alone and drowning.  If they continued down this path she would not survive the Star Forge, whatever it was, that much he was sure of.  And a small part of him, a part that was, despite his protests, getting bigger, wanted her to live.  Part of him wanted the Dark Lord of the Sith to pay for her crimes against humanity, against Morgana, against himself.  But he knew she was paying, and dearly so; his eyes traced the fine scars on her forearms…and still, that other part of him wanted to wake up after Malak was dead and the Star Forge was destroyed and find that he still had something to live for, and that he could give her something to live for.

Hayle stirred again, this time more forcefully, and whimpered a little as she tossed and turned.  A nightmare…or a memory.  Synonymous in her case.  This time, Carth allowed himself to reach for her.  He slid behind her on the bed and lifted her into his lap, smoothing her hair back and speaking softly to her.  After a moment, she quieted, and he watched her sleep.  With one tentative finger, he reached out and stroked the faded ring around her eye.

They were drowning, but he would be damned if they were going to go down alone.

* * *

The remnants of the nightmare tore a gasp from her throat as her fingers clenched painfully on nothing.

Her face was pressed into something warm.  Something moving.  Something…Carth?

Suddenly his hand was in hers and Hayle held on tightly and sucked in a few shuddering breaths.  His palm was rubbing circles on her back and he was whispering in her ear.  “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here.”

She opened her eyes groggily.  It was still dark, not that it necessarily meant anything in the middle of hyperspace.  “You’re here?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

“Yeah, I’m here.”  His fingers were still woven into her hair.  “Go back to sleep, it’s not quite morning yet.

Hayle stiffened slightly, her forehead withdrawing into a frown.  “But…why?”

In response, she felt him lean down and lightly kiss her temple.  With a satisfied sigh, she settled in his arms and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Carth shifted uncomfortably on the bed.  It was no use.  His foot was completely asleep.

Hayle, for her part, was sprawled across his lap, her head pressed firmly into his thigh, fingers open and relaxed.  At least she was finally getting some rest, and for that he was willing to sacrifice some circulation; he would’ve bet both his blasters that this was the first real sleep she’d gotten in a week.

Two hours ago, in the early morning that only grumpy old men seemed to revel in, Jolee had come into the medbay to check on Hayle.  He didn’t say anything, but then again, he didn’t really have to; the knowing smirk plastered on his wrinkled face said quite enough.

Carth could hear the rest of the crew gathered in the common room now, and although he knew that they were trying to keep it down for Hayle’s sake, Mission’s high-pitched giggles would occasionally drift into the medbay through the closed door.

He had had four long hours that left him with little to do but think.  And while Carth had come to the conclusion that he would give anything to the woman who was curled up in his arms, cutting off the blood supply to his legs, this was ridiculous.

And, damn it, this was uncomfortable.

As gently as possible, he tried to free his trapped legs, but it was no use.  Hayle, whose Jedi senses had been honed to perfection over the years, let out a startled gasp as her head shot up.  Her hair was tangled, she had several creases from the material of his pants pressed into her face, and she was blinking furiously in the dim light of the medbay.

Carth began to chuckle.  The former Dark Lord of the Sith was cute when she had just woken up.

Hayle jumped and turned her head at his laughter, raising one haughty eyebrow over one bleary eye.

“Sorry,” Carth said, taking the opportunity to move his legs and wincing slightly at the pins and needles.  “I didn’t mean to wake you, but my foot fell asleep.”

Hayle stared at him for a moment, at a loss for words, looking around in confusion.  “I wasn’t that bad, was I?” she asked after a while.  “Jolee said…”

Carth shook his head.  “No, no, not that bad.  But you had a nightmare and I, uh, was here.”

To say she was shocked was an understatement.  Hell, he was still surprised.  But…it felt right.  “Oh.  Um, thanks,” she said.  He felt her stiffen, watched her face close off.

“Do you want me to move?” Carth asked awkwardly.

“I, uh…”

“I’ll move,” he said decisively, and got up to sit in the chair that he’d abandoned last night.  Silence stretched between them, Hayle nervously fingering the hem of the blanket spread across her legs.

“We need to talk,” she said finally.  “About me…being Revan.”

“If you're ready to talk, then yes... so am I,” Carth said with a sigh, running his hand through his hair absently.  Hayle was never one to put things off.  “Hayle…”  He looked at her then, for the first time in a week, and saw the cautious, guarded optimism under all the self-hatred and doubt and confusion.  “Hayle…I can't hate you.  I tried...I wanted to hold you responsible for all the things you've done. For my...for my wife, for Telos...for Dustil.  But I can't.”

“But you should.”  Her voice was small, full of self-loathing, her chin tucked tightly to her chest.

Carth shook his head.  “I got the revenge I always wanted when Saul died, but it hasn't brought me the peace that I thought it would.  All I can think of now is the promise I made to protect you from what's going to come.  It's given me a reason to look past simple revenge.”  He stood and began to pace the length of the tiny room.  “Despite whatever part of Revan is inside you, the...the darkness that must surely be there, it isn't who you are.  That's why I can't hate you, why I don't want any more revenge. You don't have to be Revan, you can be so much more. Whatever the Jedi did to you, they gave you that chance.  You have this huge destiny waiting for you, and I just fear that if you're alone it could swallow you whole.”  He stopped and leaned against the closed door, meeting her gaze.  “I mean, is there room in there for me?  Will you let me help you?”

Hayle swallowed.  “I don’t want you hurt protecting me, Carth,” she said finally.

“I think I would be hurt worse if I didn't try.  Whatever's happened up until this point, there's going to come a time very soon where you're going to have to make a choice.  And there won't be any turning back.  I want you to make the right choice.  I want to give you a reason to.  You gave me a future, Hayle.  I want to give you a future, too...with me.”  He knelt in front of her, then, taking her hands in his.  “You’ve given me a reason to live past Saul.  Let me give you a reason to live past Malak.”

She started crying, then, for the first time since the Leviathan.  Hesitantly, Carth reached up and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I think I could love you, if you give me the chance.”  There.  He’d said it.  He was in love with the former Dark Lord of the Sith.  But it didn’t hurt the way he’d expected it to.  It didn’t hurt at all.

“I think I could love you, too,” Hayle said finally.  She looked so vulnerable, so decidedly not Sith Lord.  She was just…Hayle.  The woman he’d come to love.  “Thank you…for giving me…”  Her words caught on a sob.

Carth’s doubts melted away as he drew her into his arms and pulled her head to his neck.

“Well then I'm...I'm glad.  Let's...let's face the future together, then...there's still a lot to do.”

* Fin *