Never let it be said that I don't listen to the opinions of my reviewers. Initially I'd fully intended to skip the fight scene, just let it be, that Revan roughed them up a little. But quite a few people wanted to see a little punishment not levelled on Bastila. So. Whoop-de-do. Plan altered. :)

Chapter 3 – First Lessons

It was impossible to say what was the first sensation to return to her. Though the transition from unconsciousness, back to the land of the living, was undoubtedly a slow one. For the person experiencing it, it almost seems instantaneous. Her eyes opened, blearily, as bright light offended her vision. A smell, all too sterile and clean assaulted her nostrils, and the irritating beeping of nearby machinery or droids, filled her ears. What was certainly last to reach her though, was her own mental faculties. For she found herself completely confused, and a little scared, of this room that was not her own. It wasn't until her eyes adjusted to see white walls, and her memory of the fight came back to her, that she calmed down.

She had lost. Badly. And to her utmost disgust, she had no one to blame but herself for starting that fight. And of course her Master, for not stopping it. A heavy feeling settled in her heart as she wondered if he had enjoyed seeing her humbled so. Did he really hate her that much?

"Ah you're awake young one." A gentle woman's voice cooed, drawing her attention as a yellow skinned twilek came up to her, feeling her forehead and tilting her face so she could look into Bastila's eyes. "Can you follow my finger with your eyes?" She then held up a single finger and moved it back and forth, watching Bastila's eyes as they moved from left to right. "Perfect, you seem okay. Does your nose hurt?"

Her nose? The memory of it cracking flew into her mind and her hands quickly moved to feel for the feature. They were stopped halfway by the doctor however. Immediate fear flashed through her as she realised she could not even feel anything from her face.

"I-I can't feel my face." She stuttered, wondering if there had been nerve damage, or worse!

"It's fine dear. I have you on pain killers, so you won't be able to. Your nose was broken, but I've reset it as best I can. Don't touch it for now though, it looks the same as it always has." The young girl nodded as she laid back on the bed, letting her arms fall to her sides again. Her grey eyes looked at the empty white ceiling as she let out a deep sigh.

"Will I be able to leave today?" She asked, not wishing to be confined to the room with nothing to occupy her time.

"You will be fine to leave in an hour. Your friends won't be so lucky though, they'll need to stay here for at least another day or two." Her eyes sharpened in confusion. Her friends? Whoever was the woman talking about? Bastila had no friends, and certainly none who had been injured.

"Oh." Bastila hedged, wondering if she could find out who it was. "What happened to them?" The twilek looked at her confused, before understanding crossed her features and she smiled.

"Ah, of course. Master Zhar brought you here first, so you must have already been knocked out. The Padawans you were training with were all injured in the same spar. Quite badly I might add... you all take sparring far too seriously." Bastila laughed nervously as she nodded in acceptance, her mind a whirl inside. Sanders? Cynthia? They'd all been injured? Not by her, in their spar, that was for sure. She remembered enough to know she'd been soundly beaten... and if Master Zhar had left to bring her here?

Revan?

Could it? No, surely not... what reason would he have to harm them so... actually, now that she thought on it. Maybe he simply hated everyone, and wanted to hurt others since she had been taken away... But could such a Jedi exist with the council here? Surely any abusive tendencies would have been picked up by now, so it couldn't be that. But if they were injured... he was the only one who could have done it. The question was, why?

Revan sighed to himself as he set down a holovid recording of a recent news broadcast. Another skirmish with the Mandalorians, few dead, but the signs of encroaching war were becoming clearer. This wasn't small raiding parties, study of their culture had shown that they didn't believe in piracy... those loyal to their kingdom, anyway. And these were too many, too quickly, to be all rogues.

Putting down the disk he winced at a small pain in his arm, smiling ruefully as he looked at the small burn on the inside of his left forearm. That would teach him to be so aggressive against those he thought were already beaten. If it had been a real duel, he would have lost an arm. They, of course, would have lost so much more.

Revan allowed the younger woman to circle him, content to let her believe she had the advantage because she was out of his line of sight. Unlike a freshly minted Padawan, he had discipline enough to calm himself and feel the force, even under extreme pressure. Being attacked by three children with practice sabres barely counted as exercise, let alone fear...

The main boy attacked head on, somehow content to try and overpower him like he had his student. Not at all concerned with the second sabre he kept at his side. Unwilling to let the lesson end so soon, Revan didn't capitalise on the mistake, instead locking blades with his right blade, while keeping his left slack. The boy pressed down on him, two hands against one, and despite the age difference, it was enough to strain him. Not used to the underhanded tricks real fighters and Jedi learned however, he was completely shocked when Revan planted a boot in his stomach.

Unprepared, but not helpless. These kids had been trained to fight, and all their muscles were tense, as such what might have been a debilitating and winding blow to a normal person, merely left a bruise and sore muscles here. It was enough to have him hang back a little, trying to soothe his midriff with one hand.

A blow came in from behind him, a tell-tale gasp from the girl giving her away before even the force could. Spinning roughly Revan used both sabres, one high on her blade, the other low. Sending her sabre spinning cruelly from her hands as she let out a sudden scream of shock. Turning back, he let her scramble for her blade as he parried the final boy's attack, twisting his sabre around the boy's hand to disarm him. The blue training sabre spinning towards the ceiling as the boy stared dumbly at it. Sighing at such stupidity, Revan quickly elbowed the boy in the chest, making him stagger back and gasp. His clenched fist hit the boy a moment later, striking the side of his face, near the temple. He crumpled to the floor, the blow robbing him of consciousness in an instant.

Revan negligently deflected the blade as it completed its arc and fell down on him. Making sure to knock it away from the downed boy.

The distraction had allowed the girl to reclaim her sabre, and the other guy to settle himself. The two of them now standing side by side, determined and yet fearful expressions on their faces. Revan could respect that. Fear was present in all people. And yet facing it head on, even when one could flee, showed courage.

He couldn't show mercy however. A true lesson learned through pain, was one that stuck with the learner forever. Strengthening them and tempering them like hard steel. They would be better for the experience.

Revan chose to be the aggressor this time, striking forwards as they leaped apart, both to dodge his blades and keep him between them. Despite their youth, their team work was admirable, and it was likely these two would serve together when they graduated. Bonds forged early on could last for many decades. He leapt towards the girl as he landed, leaving the boy chasing after him as Revan lightly probed her, landing swift but gentle blows that she could conceivably parry. Her face tense, she held her own for a few seconds before the sabre cut through a hole in her defence, scoring a hit across her shoulder. Quickly ending it, Revan slashed another across her right wrist, and kneed her in the solar plexus. Letting her crumple to the floor.

"Cynthia! You bastard!" The last screamed, giving in to anger as no Jedi should and lashing out at Revan. The knight wasn't one to accuse him of the dark side however. Knowing that anger was inherent in all people, and learning how debilitating it could be now, he would seek to control it more later. The boy's blows came in hard and fast, but unrefined. He didn't follow up on holes Revan showed, too lost in wanting to smash Revan's face in.

He let it continue for a little while, content to let the boy wear himself out. When he left an opening too wide however, Revan felt he had to take it, slipping underneath the blade, and striking the boy across the chest.

To his amazement however, it had been a trap, and he let out a grunt as the boy's blade scored the inside of his arm. Triumph crossed the boy's face for all of a second, before being replaced by horror. Revan's instincts and muscle memory, repressed since he was fighting children, quickly kicked in. Flicking his sabre against the boy's side, disarming him with the second, and then slashing across the neck, burning it and also knocking the boy out. All of it in little more than a second.

It had been somewhat inexcusable of him to do that to young Padawans. Not the duel itself, nor the injuries. But to lose control for a moment, and believe them an enemy? Even a practice sabre could kill if he crushed the windpipe. It was fortunate he had managed to hold back his strength a little.

Still. Lesson learned. Both for him, and them. Just because they were untrained and foolish, was no excuse to underestimate them. It was refreshing. He would have to punish himself for that. All mistakes needed punishment, so you knew never to repeat them. The immediate pain was not enough, that was a consequence. Instead he resigned himself to going to the training halls and working on his sabre forms until his arms ached and his breath came out in rattled gasps.

He was somewhat surprised however, when he reached there, to see his own young Padawan, practising a kata from form 3. Not perfectly. She was too rigid and not relaxed enough, but it was good that she was focusing on such a defensive form, especially after being beaten so. He wondered idly if it was an effort to avoid pain in the future, or if she had actually worked out the best way to fight multiple enemies was to wear them out before striking?

"Good morning, Bastila." He greeted, keeping his voice cordial and almost friendly. Lessons, failed or otherwise, and their accompanying punishments, were things to come and go. She had made a mistake, and served her punishment. There was no need to carry on about it.

She unfortunately seemed to think otherwise.

"M-master!" She gasped, stepping back in obvious discomfort and a little fear, before stopping herself. "I... didn't expect to see you here."

"Nor I, you." He replied with a small frown crossing his features. This fear certainly wouldn't do. Not if she wanted to learn anything from him. "If you are already healed, perhaps we should begin a lesson." He added as an afterthought. Not honestly having expected her to be up and about today. Perhaps she had not been struck so badly.

"... Of course." She agreed after a moment too long.

"Bastila." He sighed out, not enjoying the girl's hesitance, and deciding to tackle it head on. "What do you think the reason for me making you fight them was?"

The reason? Bastila wondered to herself. Because he was a bastard? Because he disliked her attitude, thought she was too proud? Enjoyed humbling her? All of them were possible, and yet she wasn't going to admit she was having such thoughts about this man. Not in his hearing, anyway.

"I think..." She hedged, trying to gather anything from his expression. A hopeless task. "To punish me for starting a fight. When I should have been following your earlier instructions, and cleaning the halls." She'd served such punishments before. Her and every other child who had entered the halls. There were few excuses for skipping chores. She looked away from him almost petulantly after she had finished, keeping her gaze on the wall to her left.

"That's... not the reason at all." He added after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "A shame you haven't realised the lesson yet, but no worries. The path to success is paved with many mistakes." The words may have been nice but they lit an anger in her. Mistakes? A shame she hadn't noticed? How patronising could he be?

"Well tell me what I did wrong then! Tell me what the lesson was. I can't read your mind!" She hissed out, her grey eyes widening a moment later as she slapped her hands over her mouth. Oh, she was a dead woman now. You didn't snap back to Master Zhar, or even Master Vandar. But Knight Revan! She was a dead woman.

"It would be easier if I told you, wouldn't it?" He muttered as he looked at the ceiling. "But I want you to grow into a Jedi who doesn't need to be told what to do. I won't always be there to give you answers, so you need to find them for yourself." She huffed as she looked away. He wouldn't always be there to give her answers? Well then, that would be no different to right now! She wasn't getting any answers anyway!

"Well what about the three you left in the medbay! You broke Cynthia's arm, and Sanders will need work on his throat so he can even talk again." She'd thought herself in a bad situation until she had heard what had happened to them. He met her indignant gaze for a moment before sighing and scratching the top of his head.

"Though I don't mean this in a bad way, that's your fault." Her eyes snapped open as she stumbled back a little.

"What!" Her voice and mind cried out at the same time, drawing curious eyes to their conversation. "What the hell does that mean! I certainly didn't do that damage to them." The one she had taken down had just been knocked out...

"What's done is done. I see you're working on form 3? Do you believe it suits you?" The change in topic caught her off-guard for a moment. Did it suit her? What did that mean? It was a defensive form that was useful for blocking and parrying attacks. Was this another test for her?

"I think it's good enough." She hedged out uncertainly. He nodded in response but didn't say anything further. "What? Do you think it's a bad choice?" Why couldn't he just tell her?

"It's not my place to choose. All the forms are balanced and adequate." He activated his sabre then, a green blade that he slashed before him, the power was set down. "Assume form 3, and keep to it. Let's test your reflexes." She gulped as she fumbled into position, not missing the small frown on his face, and hating herself for having been the cause for it. She had been a promising initiate, why was she so inept now?

His blows came in slow at first, for a moment she thought he was patronising her, but he soon increased his tempo, and she realised he was attempting to find her threshold. The blows weren't particularly strong, he not trying to enter a lock or deter her blade, simply striking against it with a crack and bouncing back to strike somewhere else. It continued for a little while, before his speed picked up again, stressing her a little as the light nearly struck her a number of times. Sweat was beginning to interfere with her vision too as her breathing became harsher. She wanted to shout at him to stop it but instead kept going. A few seconds later she faltered and his blade came through. She let out a shriek of fear.

Only to feel nothing. Cracking an eye open she looked around to see his blade had stopped before hitting her, and quite a few people were giving her bemused looks for her outburst.

Her cheeks burned as shame filled her. That bastard!

"That was good." He complimented, banishing her anger for a moment as a smile came to her lips almost unbidden. She'd done well? The thought that she had pleased him, warmed her more than she was willing to admit. "Let's try some aggression this time, attack me, and I will only defend." He raised his sabre to a vertical position, mimicking her form 3 position to show he was intending to use it also.

Bastila felt a thrill of victory enter her. If she could hit him, it would vindicate all her feelings towards him. She'd finally be able to get some revenge for the torment and doubt he filled her with. Taking a breath to steady her already shaky breathing, she struck at his face. As expected he blocked it, but she kept attacking, purposely keeping herself a little slower than she actually was. One on one, she was sure he was her superior, but if she could convince him that she was stuck in a certain rhythm, he would hopefully mimic it, and then be caught off-guard.

A simple plan. She struck at him constantly, timing her blows so they were a few milliseconds apart and almost ordered. Sweat was beading across her brow again, but she had to wait for the right moment. As the minutes stretched on, and her muscles screamed in protest, she triumphantly noticed some sweat beading on his brow. Her eyes followed the single droplet of water as it trailed a way down his sculpted brow, tracing his eyebrow, and dripping down into one eye. He reflexively shook his head to rid it, and she struck.

To her irritation he deflected her easily, not looking at her as he did so, and diverting her to the side. Her frustration soon turned to fear however as she buckled under the force of her own attack. His having deflected, instead of blocking, leaving her over extended and tripping towards the floor. She his the ground hard, her face hitting against the back of the hand she had used to cushion herself. A flare of pain shot across her face, followed by a sob of pain from her lips. She curled into a small ball as she sobbed uncontrollably, trying to stifle the flow of blood that was bubbling from between her fingers.

"Bastila? What's wrong?" He asked in a concerned voice. A firm hand settled on her shoulder as she was pulled up into a sitting position. She kept her hands over her nose as she tried to keep all the blood inside. Her vision was blurry.

"You broke my dose!" She accused through her tears. "Id hurts!" He pried her hands away relentlessly, and she quickly clutched his shoulders, tightly scrunching his robes up as he inspected her.

"You should have told me you were injured, Bastila." He replied, probing her nose with his fingers, causing her to gasp in protest and grip his shoulder tighter. So it was all her fault again!

"I thought you'd hab checked od me!" At least come to see how badly his own student was hurt... He would have cared that much, right? She moaned in distress as he gripped her nose gently and moved it from side to side.

"You're right. I am sorry Bastila. That was inexcusable of me. Now, I need to reset this... are you ready?" She nodded, not at all ready, but unwilling to delay it. Her breathing quickened as she gripped him. "Okay... on three."

"One... tw-" Crack! She whined furiously in pain as her back straightened and she tried to writhe out of his grip, his firm hands keeping her still even as he legs kicked in protest. After a few seconds the pain ended and she felt herself gasping as she leaned her face into his shoulder, staining his robes.

"That... wasn't three..." She breathed out, not wanting to move out of his body. Honestly, she didn't want to see the look on everyone's faces around them.

"It wasn't." He agreed, stroking her back to try and soothe her, her tears were still coming but she had quieted. "Sorry for lying. It's back to your room with you, you need to rest. Training will resume in two days." She nodded against him, and made to step back, only to gasp in surprise when he straightened and she was lifted up with him! "The least I can offer you is a life to your room."

She nodded as she settled down. Not willing to admit that she enjoyed the feeling. It reminded her of when her father had carried her around. The memories were vague, and she had been a lot smaller then. But he had always been picking her up, making her squeal in pleasure as he ambushed her and snatched her up, tickling her.

Lost in a mixture of pain and memories, she didn't even notice when she snuggled into her Master's chest and drifted asleep. Remembering a better time, with her loving father.

Well, that's the end of that chapter. I don't know ANYTHING about lightsabre forms, so forgive me if I'm wrong. If anyone does want to post a review with a brief mention of each, I'd love that. I'd quote you in chapter's AN's. :D

On a side note. I'm wondering how many people understand the lessons Revan is trying to teach in this fic! If you think you have spotted a lesson, then tell me. I'll reveal them in next chapters... and... if someone gets the most? Who knows... maybe I'll make a character with their name, or a name of their choice if their pen name is unsuitable... Add it into the fic.

Review please! :D Thanks for reading all!