A/N: Yes, I know this idea has been written to death and then beaten perpetually. I apologize for adding to the pile, but it was just too tempting to try my hand at a Revan remembers story/game novelization. I shudder to even think about how cruelly I am beating a dead horse.

...I regret nothing! Except for all the present tense and grammatical mistakes I have made (and excessive use of commas). I also apologize for my poor attempt at humor - it started out snarky but then turned kind of serious and then all blended together until I couldn't stand to look at it anymore. I'm just going to let Revan guide me to whichever genre she decides, I guess.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Beginning

The memories first come on Coruscant. She swears she's never been to the ecumenopolis before being employed for the transport job, but as she looks over the beautiful cityscape there is an unnatural familiarity towards the towering buildings that touch the skies. Whenever she shuts her eyes, the image of two figures, cheered on by a jubilant crowd of thousands, works its way to the forefront of her mind.

The dreams come afterwards – of places she's never visited, of battles she's never fought, and of people she's never met. She becomes fairly concerned with her mental health and ceases taking contracts (the bonus of being a mercenary is that there is no schedule to keep, only credits to be made), and though she has worked closely with the Republic and assisted with the war effort, she is not bound to it like those hopeless recruits she encounters during jobs. With no contracts tying her down, she finds herself traveling – hopping from spaceship to spaceship along the hyperlanes with no destination in mind until she becomes uncomfortably low on funds.

It is two months before the Endar Spire that Revan remembers. Oh of course there are dark spots in her memory, she still has the habit of answering to Aria Blackmoor, and she's picked up a passion for Corellian potato sticks that's borderline obsession… but she's certain she's mostly Revan again.

At first she isn't sure how to take in all the information, especially as more continued to float up to the surface after months of being drowned by the false identity so graciously given to her by the Jedi Council. She remembers the battle on the bridge after springing the Jedi Knights' trap – of Malak's betrayal that lead to the destruction of her flagship (and damn him, she'd liked that ship). She remembers her panicked need to protect her mind from the Council's tampering (because she would rather die than forget), remembers burying her memories so deeply within her subconscious that it would seem like her mind had been completely destroyed.

The initial discovery is frightening enough that she jumps straight into a bottle of Corellian Ale. Barely a week passes before she realizes that as a Jedi with a degree of resistance to poison, it takes a hell of a lot of alcohol to get drunk - as she currently has a credit problem, drinking herself into a stupor is a desirable, but unfeasible solution.

So Revan forces herself to embrace the truth with a mix of anger and remorse – it isn't the worst thing that has ever happened to her. Sure, she is the very same Sith Lord that has brought the Republic to its knees, and sure, she's razed planets and killed millions in the name of a greater good that no on in the Republic actually understands, but she has to look on the bright side of things! Her mind is more or less intact (not counting one or two loose screws), and she appreciates being alive. With no one the wiser, she can walk away from her past, pick up a hobby, adopt a pet, and maybe try out one of those HoloNet dating services.

The problem with that plan is that Revan doesn't particularly want to start over, though she's at a loss as what to do with herself now that she's been stripped of her army, her memories (for a time), and even her ominous Sith Lord wardrobe (without it she's since tanned, which Revan has to admit is a much better complexion than pasty Sith white).

She doesn't sit around long. A month later she receives notice of employment to guard the Last Hope of the Republic, Bastila Shan, on her mission aboard the Endar Spire. Revan immediately grasps the hidden intent: the Council had plans for her. Obviously they haven't let an ex-Sith Lord run free. That alone almost makes her throw the offending datapad out the airlock, but a well-honed sense of self-preservation prevents her hasty actions.

If the Council is keeping an eye on her, she cannot very well ignore the threat of discovery. Two can play at this game. She'd smiled then as she'd typed up a response, and if anyone watching had known of her colorful history, they'd have noted how very Sith-like her expression had become.

First, there is a shuddering groan, like a dying beast, followed up by a violent quaking that seems to jar the very foundation of the world.

And then came the explosion.

"Kriffing sithspit!" Revan shouts, tossed forcefully out of bed as the ground beneath her tilts abruptly. Her head connects with the floor and she sees bright, painful stars.

That's when the door slides open and she frowns up at the grim face of Trask Ulgo, bunkmate of the ex-Dark Lord of the Sith, and owner of the worst haircut she has ever laid eyes on. "The Endar Spire's under attack!" The man exclaims. She responds with her best no, really? glower, to little effect. She has to remind herself with some regret that as a former Sith Lord, she no longer inspires fear in the hearts of millions.

"Methinks it's time to abandon ship." Revan announces after picking herself up. She wipes blood from her injured nose as respectably as she can.

"We can't leave just yet! The Sith have boarded and –"

"They're after Shan." Revan finishes. It's easy enough to piece together – Malak can't have known that his old Dark Master is still alive, ergo he's discovered something else of value on this ship: Bastila Shan. If her life wasn't in danger, Revan would have been decidedly pleased with her extensive network of spies. As it is, she can only regret the competency of the army she's created. She is about to say more before the communicator on Trask's belt buzzes to life and a new voice cuts into the conversation.

"The Sith are threatening to overrun our position." An explosion. "We can't hold out long against their firepower -" The ship rumbles dangerously. "All hands to the bridge!"

Well who can argue with that logic? Noting that now is not the time for a tête-à-tête, Revan hastily dresses and gears up, not caring that she's providing Trask a show. She turns back to the soldier, holstering a blaster. "Right, we're off."

"Yes, we have to get to Bastila!" Trask declares and Revan frowns. Although she appreciates that the man came back for her, she has no patience for heroes - they have a habit of dying. Sure, the hero package includes a fancy metal and a neat eulogy, but when you're dead, it doesn't really matter. She holds his gaze, eyes narrowed.

"Look here, bunkmate, I know I signed up for this, but I have to be honest with you. I didn't expect to shoot more than a bad guy or two. I'm heading for the escape pods – I'm sure Shan, as a Jedi, can take excellent care of herself." Plus, she no longer senses the woman's presence on the ship. The battle is lost; the Most Valuable Players would have been sent off first when the fact became apparent.

And once there is nothing of value on the ship, the Sith won't hesitate to blast it into space dust. Revan doesn't plan on being aboard when it happens.

Trask hesitates for a second before compromising. "Okay – we all have to head to the bridge at any rate." With that they hurry along, knowing time is quickly running out as the walls around them shudder under great strain and explosions scorch their skin, too close for comfort. They barely stop to take care of the Sith they run into, though Revan knows with a degree of satisfaction that it's because she's a superior fighter.

Trask takes note of it as well, stopping a second to comment appreciatively. "I can see why the Republic hand-picked you for this mission."

"I like to think it's because of my charming personality." Revan throws him a confident smirk. The soldier chuckles and they carry on.

It's when they come across a Jedi and a Dark Jedi that she pauses, unsure of her options. She could help, but that would mean the use of the Force, and that would surely get back to the Council. Revan settles for a subtle Force Push, tripping the Dark Jedi as a convenient explosion rocks the Endar Spire. Unfortunately, as soon as the Jedi Knight finishes him off, the explosion takes care of her.

"Damn, we could've used her help. It's all going to hell." Trask mutters. Revan disagrees, but quickly checks to make sure the two Jedi are dead before taking their lightsabers. It feels wrong, almost, as if she's defiling a grave – but she knows the dead have no use for weapons. If Trask notices her pocketing the metal hilts, he doesn't comment.

The bridge is empty of Republic soldiers when they arrive. There are only a few Sith, which are easy enough to dispatch. It's when they're almost to the escape pods and they run into another Dark Jedi (powerful, but unrefined, Revan notes) that Trask decides to do something undeniably heroic, and therefore incredibly stupid.

"Aria, run!" The Republic soldier shouts, pushing her out of the way as a door shuts behind him. It short-circuits, denying her reentry. It would have been too late to save him by the time she got the damn thing opened.

"Shavit!" Revan curses, pounding on the door once before running towards the escape pods. As many flaws as the man had had, she'd liked Trask – he'd been a decent bunkmate and had always been up for a raunchy joke or losing credits at pazaak (no matter how much she cheated). That was two strikes against Malak now – he was certainly good at ruining her day.

A squadron of Sith troopers are the last thing standing in her way of escaping this Force forsaken cruiser. She finds it lucky that she will be able to blow off some steam, though it is unlucky for them; Revan is in a bad mood.

Her comlink beeps as she's wiping the blood off her vibroblades and the same male voice she'd heard in the cabin speaks to her over the destruction of the starship. "I'm tracking your position through the ship's life support system – there's a squadron of Sith troopers near your location, can you find a way to take them out?"

"Already done. A bit late on the advice, soldier, so why don't you open the door now?" She snorts and crosses her arms. The door unlocks the next moment and she comes face to face with Commander Carth Onasi. She can't help but raise a brow. "Well, I didn't expect someone of your status to be waiting for me."

"I don't leave people behind, if I can help it." The man states with fervor in his eyes. She gets the impression that it's personal, and wishes that the Republic didn't have such a rampant Hero Complex within its ranks. Carth's eyes narrow the next second as he examines the dead Sith. "How'd you take care of all those troopers by yourself-" But Revan's already halfway into the pod and pulls Carth by his uniform to hurry them along.

"I hope you're as good a pilot as they say, because the Sith shoot defenseless targets for sport." She grins at the commander with more confidence than she feels as they jettison away from the ruins of the Endar Spire.

Carth replies with a tight but reassuring smile, suspicions forgotten for the moment. "Just hold on tight." He falls into deep concentration at the controls of the escape pod and she can imagine the cannons blasting away at them, the narrow misses as starfighters give chase. She shuts her eyes, grips her seat tightly, and provides shielding by weaving the Force through the infrastructure just in case.

In all the chaos, Revan forgets her damn safety belt (she later claims it never happened, because as an ex-Sith Lord it is basically against the law to make such silly mistakes).

It feels like forever but in actuality is probably only a few minutes when they break through the atmosphere. Revan is nauseous and her heart is beating a mile a minute as they plummet at unreasonable speeds down onto the planet of Taris and oh Force she is not immortal – if they continue at this rate the Sith will be wiping the Smear That Was Once Revan off the ground. She might have been screaming, though she's not quite all there anymore. The escape pod barely gives as Carth pulls up from the swift descent, Taris growing rapidly in size as they close in.

The world abruptly jerks from its axis and there is noise and there is pain and –

There is light. It is universal and tumultuous, churning more like the sea than a river – all eddies and waves, too strong to fight against. But fighting is what she knows – the only thing she knows. She struggles against the undertow until there is no strength left, and after that she is drawn below, drowning, drowning…

There is Revan, lying in bed with banthas trampling her head into mush. "Someone get the name of the starship that hit me." Her moaning is pathetic.

She does not expect an answer but receives one, albeit dryly. "The Leviathan – Malak's flagship."

"Helpful."

"I try." The smile is heard in his voice and she can feel her own lips curling upwards.

She takes a moment to gather herself – she has not dreamt (truly dreamt) in years. It may have been a side-effect of becoming a Sith Lord, or it may have been her sleeping habits, but she realizes that this has been the first non-memory related dream since she went to war. Revan decides dreaming is unpleasant and will try not to do so in the future.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she opens her eyes, peers up at the ceiling, and attempts to keep her stomach from crawling up her throat. It doesn't end well and she sits up hastily, head coming between her knees as dry gags escape. A gentle pressure is placed on her back, tentative and unmoving; it is withdrawn as soon as she pushes herself upright.

"If I ever needed a drink, now would be the time." Revan announces, wincing slightly as she adjusts to lie back on the headboard.

Carth raises a brow, but she can see the relief in his face. He looks scruffier than she last recalls, though it gives him a roguish appearance that Revan admittedly appreciates (if only he'd do something about that orange jacket he'd changed into). "You've been out for three days – glad to see you up, instead of thrashing about in your sleep."

"Watching me sleep, Onasi? I'm flattered, but as first dates go, I prefer flowers and a quiet dinner." She hides the fact that she is actually flattered that the man has saved her life. Amongst the Sith, weakness meant death – she has not been wont to kindness for years.

"I'll keep that in mind." Carth leans back and crosses his arms, expression expectant. "It's unfortunate that you know my name while I'm at a loss for yours, miss…?"

Revan doesn't buy the act for a minute, though the reason behind it is lost to her. As an accomplished Republic soldier, he wouldn't have waited three days to discover her name – he would've done a background check to ensure he wasn't missing anything vital that could jeopardize the mission or their lives. "Aria Blackmoor." She humors him all the same and tilts her head in greeting. She immediately regrets the action, hissing as she touches her head gingerly. Thankfully the pain is easy enough to fix – she sends a faint jolt of Force heal and feels her discomfort lessen. There's blood clumping in her hair; she decides before hitting the cantina to visit the 'fresher (her bladder will thank her).

"I brought a doctor to have a look at you when you didn't wake the second day. There's no lasting damage, and the worst of your injuries have healed, but I suggest taking it easy for another day to let the meds kick in." Carth taps the back of his head and frowns, remembering. "You had a nasty gash there. For a while I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

"I'm one tough cookie – it'll take more than a bit of head trauma to keep me down." She reassures him with a wry smile. The man will never know how very true that statement is. "…But I owe you one, for saving my life." She continues, inwardly grimacing. She does not enjoy being indebted.

"Like I said, I don't abandon anyone on a mission." And there is that glint in his eyes again. She tucks the information in the back of her mind for another time. Right now Revan wants nothing more than to hit a cantina and lose sobriety for a few hours, but her common sense screams to get a rundown of their situation before running off into unknown territory.

"So I assume you haven't kept in this room for three days, as excellent as the company would have been. Want to bring me up-to-date?"

Carth nods, taking a seat on the bed opposite of hers. "We're in an abandoned apartment on the planet of Taris. You were banged up pretty bad when our escape pod crashed." His expression is rueful and Revan can't help but interject.

"Nice flying." The compliment is genuine. In all actuality the pilot's abilities are what most likely saved their lives; the Sith would have tried to shoot down as many escape pods as possible – there is little room for mercy within the Sith Empire. She decides to voice the thought.

Carth rubs the back of his neck and smiles. "Thanks. It was touch-and-go all the way down, but I guess the important thing is that we made it. Luckily, I wasn't seriously hurt when we crashed, and in all the confusion I was able to drag you here without anyone noticing…" He pauses. Ah, here comes the bad news. "Taris is under Sith control. Their fleet is orbiting the planet, they've declared martial law, and they've imposed a planet-wide quarantine."

"In other words, we are trapped behind enemy lines indefinitely."

"I've been in worse spots." The pilot has the gall to say. Revan sighs.

"I guess they wouldn't be looking for a grunt like me." Thank the Force she'd always worn a mask. "Though…" She raises a brow. "Are you sure you won't be recognized, Onasi? You're quite the decorated war hero; practically a poster boy for the Republic."

"I wouldn't go that far," Carth frowns, "most people know me by name, not by face. Plus, the Sith's focus will be on Bastlia, not me."

And most people aren't me, she reminds herself. Because of the war, she's studied the Republic intensively; a grunt won't have the same knowledge that she's so avidly collected.

"All the same, we'll have to risk it we want to find Bastila and get off this planet." Carth continues as Revan's brows shoot up. She tells herself that Carth Onasi is not crazy, though the thought does not comfort her.

"That's a sizeable task for two people. How big is the population on this part of Taris alone? One million? Half a billion? We don't even know if Shan is still alive."

"Well what's the alternative? I don't like leaving the fate of the Republic up to a single Jedi – hell, I don't trust the Jedi any further than I can throw them – but you know as much as I do that her title as the Republic's Last Hope isn't just for show."

Revan bites the inside of her cheek and knows Carth is right (and what is it with the Republic's reliance on Jedi to win for them?). She doesn't want Malak to succeed any more than he does, perhaps even less. Her idiot apprentice has lost sight of the true purpose of the war – he only sought to annihilate the Republic and build a new order atop the rubble. He has long since forgotten that they had gone to war against the galaxy to save it. And Revan likes the galaxy.

She unhappily concedes Carth's point. "I better get compensated for this."

"Don't worry, the Republic pays its mercenaries well." The pilot assures her. "Now quit pouting."

"I will if you buy me a drink." Revan declares, petulant. "Also, I don't pout." Sith Lords (former Sith Lords, even) pouted like Banthas flew (although they did have a patent on menacing glowers).

A/N: Oh! Before I forget - I'd appreciate constructive criticism. Was my pace too slow, too fast? Feedback is great!