The afterlife, Revan hazily concluded, was not all it was cracked up to be.

For one, it was cold. Deathly cold and dark, down here in the very depths. Revan lay slumped against a wall, head sunken upon his chest. His armour and his robes, tattered and battered though they were, should have offered him protection and yet…and yet, the chill sank into his flesh and his bones, leaving his blood sluggish and his muscles weak. He slowly opened an eye, seeing once again his chest, crimson and silver armour paled, translucent. He could see the stone through his chest, he dimly comprehended. The thought should have brought him to his feet, curious and afraid, but it was insufficient to break through the blanket of exhaustion that weighed upon his shoulders, thick and smothering and far, far too heavy to shift.

It was so dark. So cold.

Revan drifted through a mindless haze, his mind washed with the briefest flickers of memory and thought. He couldn't say how long it took him gather the strength to drag himself back to coherency. A day. A month. A year. A century. What did it really matter.

He thought about stirring, but even the briefest consideration brought the leaden weight upon every limb to the forefront of his mind, too weighty to move. No, he was comfortable here.

That was a lie, but one he couldn't yet shift. It took all of his feeble strength to focus his mind. He was beneath some building, he thought, the whisper of life filtering down to this place, this darkness. A temple, he thought, a Jedi temple. Or whatever had replaced the Jedi. He could taste the texture of the Force above, the flavour and the warmth. But down here, there was only darkness. Only cold.

The fading echoes of Sith filled this place, echoes of Lords and Warriors and Acolytes long fallen, conglomerating together. A meaningless babble, a collective of those who prided themselves of individuality, the scraps that had survived them huddling in the dark and twisting together into a mockery of the Sith Ghosts on Korriban and a dozen other planets, mere memories of battles won and battles lost. They- it- ruled down here, or so it liked to think.

Even as exhausted as he was, the thing in the dark did not approach Revan. Not while he struggled through the waves of tiredness long enough to touch this parody of thought. Not even while he slumbered, hauled into the mire that devoured his strength. Revan appreciated that, even as he felt his mind sinking again.

Even in this parlous state, the name of Revan was feared.

He slept, the dreams coming in wisps, fog from an uncertain mire, sand drifting from a forgotten desert. He awoke to the cold and the darkness and the exhaustion, unable to rise, fading soon again. Sometimes the temple above tasted of fear and pain. More often it was serene, calm. The ghost-thing became stronger, but it still feared him and those who were reckless enough to venture into these ancient tunnels were strong, disciplined. They never came to Revan. He never went to them. He wasn't sure they could see him and, even if they could, they would probably presume him a Sith. His memories were hazy at best, but he was fairly sure that the galaxy remembered Darth Revan better than Revan, the Prodigal Knight.

Besides, he was tired. So tired. Perhaps when he was rested. Just a little rest more, surely that would bring him back. Just a little rest more, and he would see the light and the warmth once again.

Revan slumbered.

He awoke again, a flicker of something testing him, reminding him. He was tired- so very tired, tired so much that he could barely breath and yet…and yet, there was something there. Something lightening his limbs, something calling out to him. Revan took a breath, unsure if he needed it but the habit strong. Revan took a breath and listened.

The tunnels were dark, cold, empty. The ghost-thing was still there, its gelatinously amorphous form roiling and twisting below him, in the deeper tunnels. Revan wondered how it held itself together instead of shredding, the uncertain mind of it unable to hold a form. The Dark Side, he presumed. Generally that could be relied upon to provide the answer when anything particularly frakked up occurred. Revan fought the tiredness enough to force himself to his feet, pointedly ignoring the way his tattered robe shifted through the wall and…wait.

Revan paused, one hand touching the wall and feeling the smoothness through his gauntlet. He could stand. He could think. He was tired still, so tired, sluggish from the cold but it was receding, ever so slightly. A smile cracked his lips for a moment before he realised that the Sith thing was moving, a slithering, gulping motion. Revan searched for its target and found it, there, in the tunnels. A touch in the Force, bright and shining amongst the dark and young, so very young. So very vulnerable. Revan began to move, every muscle creaking and groaning, numbness taxing him but inferior to his determination. For the first time in longer than he could remember the tiredness that dragged at his heels seemed meaningless, washed away by the memory of urgency, the flickering ghost of anger. His legs were stiff, his gait jagged and limping but Revan felt a touch of warmth, an ember of the man he used to be kindling in his chest. It kept him moving. Kept him going as he tried to outpace the monstrosity below, dragging itself in pursuit of the flickering candle-light that wandered through the catacombs, fear colouring its presence. It was below him, too close to the Sith and Revan found himself stuck, lost, lurching unevenly through the tunnels as he tried to cudgel his brain into compliance.

He tasted the horror and the terror in the musty air as the Sith thing found the wanderer. The ember in his chest struggled, but Revan was awake now, refusing to let it die. Refusing to let it go, fighting onwards. Tiredness slowed him, but determination kept him moving. Cold sapped him, but anger gave him warmth. The darkness blinded him, but the Force gave him eyes. He wobbled through a doorway, limbs stiffening and limbering in odd ways as he moved, his right leg dragging a fraction and not cooperating but Revan merely cursed it and struggled on, feeling the warm, flickering light flee from the monster in the dark, brightness dimmed by terror and seeping tendrils of darkness. He hobbled after it, cursing his leg and his exhaustion and his own stupid weakness in not forcing himself up earlier, in not hunting down the thing first. A hand slapped at his belt.

There was no lightsabre there, no comforting weight.

It didn't matter.

I really thought about trying to turn this one into a full story, but then I realised that I don't really know enough about the Star Wars universe and I couldn't be bothered to do all the research, so I decided to just pop it in here with the rest. It might get some more work done, it might not, no promises. But I think it does have potential, at least.

The light had halted, brought to bay by the slithering creature in pursuit. Revan could feel it now, the clamour within it, a whispering conclave of rage and hate and hunger and amusement and satisfaction, satisfaction, satisfaction. He sped up, his right knee finally bending, his own body reluctantly ceding control and he saw, through the darkness, the doorway beyond which the horror and its victim lurked. Revan crashed through the doorway without halting, finally running, the hammer of blood familiar in his chest and his throat and he jumped without even thinking. The creature was before him, a shambling, hunched wreck of a thing. A dark cloak covered it, a dozen masks clinging grotesquely to a misshapen skull, arms too long and with too many joints reaching out to a cowering figure. Revan flung himself into a leap, both boots leaving the floor and smashing into the creature with all the strength he could muster.

He surprised himself with the force of the impact. If the shrieking screech that followed was any indication, he surprised the creature too.

It reeled back, cramming itself into a wall as Revan rebounded off it, landing on his feet, the rush of battle dispelling any hesitation and he grinned wildly, moving in. The creature did not stay to contest him, however. It turned to him, wailing in a hundred different voices and cursing in a hundred different tongues, masks twisting and scraping in a mockery of life, grating together in discordant chorus that contrasted horribly with the gurgling, whispering tones it called in. One of the masks gaped wider, mouth opening before the darkness thickened, grew deeper and even as Revan lunged forwards with fingers grasping it was gone, leaving only a trace of fear and dread and a rapidly fading miasma.

"That's right, frakking run!" Revan shouted after it, completely ignoring the sensible voice in his mind that told him that attempting to fight the horror might have been unwise. That voice was an idiot. He was Revan. Of course he could defeat some hell-spawned monstrosity when he could barely find the energy to raise his head a few minutes ago.

That voice may have had a point, especially as the rush wore off and Revan suddenly became aware of the pains in his joints and the tiredness that clung to his bones like moss on a neglected statue. Still, he pushed it aside long enough to turn, slowly ducking to one knee and observing the target of the Sith-ghost. It was a child, he thought, the surprise distant and muffled. The kid was huddled in a corner of the room, arms raised protectively over his head and knees drawn up. His thin frame was shaking with fear, locks of red-brown hair showing beneath his raised arms, muffled sobs wracking his frame. Revan grimaced. Traumatised children were not his forte. Still…

"Hey." Revan said, reaching out a hand and stopping several inches away. What was it Mission had told him, once upon a lifetime ago? Ill advised to touch a panicking person unless you knew them? Well, Revan didn't want to startle the kid into running again. He felt like an old man, and that fething ghost-thing…Revan wasn't going to call it that anymore. That fething amalgamation, he decided, was still out there.

"Hey. Kid. Can you hear me?" Revan called, careful to keep his voice low and reassuring. It sounded rough in his ears, velvet smoothness scraped away by years of disuse, but it was the best he could go. The next words caught in his throat and pulled a cough from him, but when he spoke again his voice was less gravel and more sand. A decent start, he reluctantly conceded.

"Can you hear me? Kid?"

It would be just typical if the kid had been too traumatised to recover…or if the amalgamation had gotten him worse than Revan had thought. But the sobs seemed to be slowing, so maybe it was alright. Revan waited patiently. His tiredness still weighed on him, but his mind seemed clearer and the chill in his limbs less biting now. He could afford to wait, even as the shaking turned to trembling and the sobs slowly receded into sniffles. He could try and meditate, he supposed, but he had spent frakking ages sleeping. He felt like being awake. Very slowly the kid drew his arms away from his head, tousled hair moving away from blue eyes with painful slowness. Revan gave him a slow, gentle smile, carefully keeping a distance.

"Hey, kid. You with me again?"

The kid sniffled and blinked at him. He was maybe nine, Revan estimated, too young to be down here alone. He must have gotten lost.

"Wh- who are you?" the kid asked. Revan kept his gentle smile in place.

"My name's Revan, kid. What's yours?"

"I…um, m'name's Obi-Wan."

"Obi-Wan. Ok, Obi-Wan, are you hurt?" Revan asked. Obi-Wan was still sniffling, but he seemed to be pulling himself together.

"No, Master. I just- it was so cold, and I was lost."

"That happens." Revan softly told him, inching forwards. A gauntleted hand carefully reached out, as though to ruffle the kids' hair.

The digits passed clean through, the hair moving just a flicker, as though a gentle breeze had disturbed the locks. Revan blinked. Obi-Wan looked even more confused.

"Master?"

"Revan, kid. Just Revan."

Looks like he might be some kind of ghost of something. Revan didn't think he was actually a ghost, he was in full technicolour rather than monotone blue or red, but he wasn't substantial.

That really frakking sucked, to be honest. But he had a child to rescue.

"Ok, Obi-Wan. You've been really brave so far, kid, but I need you to keep being brave. Alright?"

"All-alright."

"Ok. Can you stand up?"

A quick shake of the head was his reply, so Revan simply settled himself on the ground. There was a vague sense of cold on his knees, but that was it. Maybe being a ghost had its moments.

"That's alright, Obi-Wan. We'll stay here until you can." He told the boy, keeping his voice soothing. A moment of concentration allowed him to taste the timbre of the air, testing it for the amalgamation but it was distant, fleeing and warbling in pain and fear. The child would be safe here.

"Master Revan…" the boy whispered, soft as a shadow in the night, "Why are you here?"

"Just Revan, Obi-Wan. Just Revan." Revan reminded him quietly. He offered the boy a small smile.

"And to answer, I don't know why I'm here. Just that I am."

Probably the 'Will Of The Force' -patent pending-, he mused. Selfish thing that it was, too cryptic for anyone's good. But that wasn't much use to tell a child. Instead Revan returned the question.

"Why are you here, Obi-Wan? I don't think this is a place that sees many younglings."

"'m an Initiate." The kid grumbled. Revan grinned at that- obviously the kid still had spirit.

"Alright then. Why are you here, Obi-Wan? I don't think this is a place that sees many Initiates."

Obi-Wan looked up, looking surprised at the teasing tone. A tiny, watery smile crossed the portion of his face that Revan could see.

"Got into a fight with Bruck." Obi-Wan grumbled. Revan stroked his goatee thoughtfully, affecting a grave expression.

"Bruck?"

"Bruck Chun."

The watery smile had been replaced with a scowl. Revan waited patiently.

"He's always mean t'me. Says I'm stupid. He knocked me over so I hit him but then his friends ran after me so I ran away. I'm always the one who gets in trouble though." Obi-Wan explained in a sudden rush. Revan continued to stroke at his chin. It made him look wise.

Meetra didn't know what she was talking about when she said it made him look like a lost tourist.

"Another Initiate?"

"Mm-hm." Obi-Wan said. He peeked up at Revan, eyes wide and blue beneath his lashes.

"You're not gonna tell me I should be calmer?"

Revan blinked at him.

"No. If someone pushed me over I'd hit them." He told the kid, grinning at the baffled goggling he received in return. He shrugged.

"You can't be a pushover if you want to be a Jedi, kid. Didn't your Crechemaster say anything?"

Obi-Wan redeveloped the ferocious scowl. It was pretty adorable, to be honest.

"They don't believe me." He muttered. Revan frowned. That sounded like bullying to him, although he couldn't say he had a great deal of experience in that regard. He had been mostly ambivalent towards his agemates during his own training- except Alek, of course- but the one time he had had trouble…well, luring the annoying Corellian into an out of the way corridor and providing a solid, instructional beating had solved that problem.

Really, it was a wonder that none of the Jedi had considered his proclivity towards violence an issue. He should probably take that as a compliment to his acting skills. But that advice wouldn't help the child before him. Revan had been older, more controlled. He had not given in to his anger, he had allowed it to run free, maybe not healthily, but he had been in control. There was no guarantee that Obi-Wan could do the same.

Besides, revenge was not the Jedi Way. Allegedly. Revan was fairly sure that there had been more than a little touch of vengeance in the Council brainwashing him and sending him after his friend- his Apprentice. But that was the sort of thing to agonise over on sleepless nights, a suspicion that would never be shared and never forgotten. But if he was to help the young man before him he would have to tread carefully. Children could be so very touchy. Even more so than Sith Lords, and the Sith were some of the most thin-skinned beings Revan had ever encountered.

"Being angry at your bully is what he wants, kid. Have you tried letting your anger out in a different way? I always liked breaking things. Maybe your Crechemaster could help you with that."

Obi-Wan stood, slowly and a little wobbly. Revan watched him with concern but said nothing. The kid looked confused.

"I- that's not the Jedi Way, Master."

Revan could hear the capitals. But still, not the Jedi way? As far as Revan was concerned, expressing anger in a healthy manner was the best way to be rid of it. There is emotion, yet there is the Force, after all.

"Not the Jedi way?" he asked. Obi-Wan shook his head.

"There is no emotion, there is peace." He said, the words dead and rote. Revan tilted his head.

"The Jedi Code? That's not how I remember it." He muttered. He stood, grimacing as his knee twinged irritably.

"Can you tell me the Jedi Code, Obi-Wan?" he asked. The child blinked up at him before he nodded tremulously.

"Um, yes, Master. Um…'There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.'"

Revan frowned as he listened. That wasn't what he-no. Wait. He did remember that, he had heard it once or twice. A newer Code, maybe, one that had become popular after he left? But to be the only Code that was taught, the thing that the Jedi of this time were expected to live by…it was so very naïve.

"Hmm. The Code I remember is a little different, kid. You want to hear it?" Revan asked, assessing the tunnels around him as he spoke. The Force whispered around him, eldritch and fading. He ignored the whispers, instead listening to the way it moved, the way it swirled, using the whorls and eddies of it to find a way out of the tunnels and gently guiding the kid towards the one he thought was right. Obi-Wan nodded at him.

"If you don't mind, Master."

"Call me Revan." Revan muttered, shaking his head.

"The Code I was taught, kid, was this: 'Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.' Control, but in a different way."

Obi-Wan had a thoughtfully scrunched face and Revan made no further comment on the Code. Honestly he preferred the Sith Code, flawed though it was. The Sith were far too obsessed with power and what they thought of it, but the end of the Sith Code had always resonated with him.

"Still worth asking, kid. You keep trying to bottle it up, someday you aren't going to snap and get rid of the anger. You're going to bury it somewhere deep and dark, and it'll never leave you again."

Obi-Wan shrank at that, and Revan sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder. Ethereal though it was, it seemed to comfort the boy.

"Try, Obi-Wan. The Jedi cannot condemn you for asking. And if they will not lend you aid then…"

Revan hesitated, but really the other half of that was obvious.

"I will always be willing to listen to you."

"Thank you, Mas- Revan." Obi-Wan said quietly. Revan nodded, humming in his throat. They walked in silence after that, making their way through the tunnels. Revan felt his steps lighten a little as they drew closer to the surface, the buzz and hum of life above bringing some life to his own steps, though he refused to leave the shadows of the tunnel when they reached the stairs at the very top of the tunnels. Obi-Wan walked a few steps before he stopped.

"Ma-Revan. You are not coming?"

Revan smiled at him.

"No, Obi-Wan. The Temple is…the Temple is not my home, now. And someone must go after the thing that lurks in the depths."

Obi-Wan blanched and stepped back at that, paling. Revan smiled sadly at that.

"Remember, though, that it was just a ghost. An echo of something that should not be and will not be if I have anything to say about it. Good luck, Obi-Wan. But, before you go, what Temple am I in?"

Obi-Wan had begun to retreat up the stairs, but he paused to answer that question.

"The Coruscant Temple, Revan."

"Coruscant." Revan mused as he watched the boy leave. Coruscant, site of one of the greatest victories won by the Sith Empire of Darth Vitiate, if his murky memory did not fail him. But he was sure it did not. During those awful, dragging years when Revan had been trapped, Vitiate feeding on his power and struggling to break his mind the Emperor had liked to let Revan know all the bad news from the war. He had never seemed to realise that it only made Revan more determined to resist, chip away at Vitiate. But, assuming that was true, Coruscant had seen the deaths of a great many Jedi. A great many Sith. And…Revan couldn't be certain, but he thought that the Jedi Temple here was built on the ruins of a Sith Temple. And given the thing below, that was very interesting indeed.