FicWad

Disclaimer: No part of Star Wars belongs to me.

Author's Note: This is a fiction from Atton's POV. I do realize I've taken a few liberties with Atton's and Revan's pasts, but hopefully not enough to make them seem out of character. Also note, so I'm not accused of plagiarism, I posted a rougher, unrevised version of this under the name "Marin Dakari" at the Unofficial KOTOR Fan Media Site several months ago. Finally, please review, especially if you have advice on how I can improve my writting.



Setting my empty glass back on the table, I stared at it dejectedly. Rumor was that all troops were being sent out to the Onderon system before the week ended. All around me I could hear the sounds of celebration; a small group of Jedi--led by some guy named Revan--had arrived a few days ago and morale had risen considerably. That explained the celebrating and dancing. But after getting turned down by almost every girl on the dance floor, I'd resigned myself to spending the night drinking. Not that I was getting drunk; I doubted the ale was strong enough to even get a gizka drunk.

I was torn from my reverie by a low feminine voice, "Just staring at your glass isn't going to fill it, unless you managed to figure out some kind of Force trick for that."

I looked up at the speaker: a woman with short brown hair, blue eyes, and an average build. No, I decided, more like just a girl, probably too young to rank above being a foot soldier. She wasn't wearing a uniform, or any other sign of rank, but that wasn't surprising. Everyone here was dressed for a night out. Despite her apparent age, her eyes betrayed a high level of wisdom. She had a wry smile, as though she was in on a secret no one else in the galaxy knew. And she was pretty. I was surprised she wasn't out dancing--like all the pretty girls that had turned me down earlier.

"So," she continued, "mind if I sit with you? Or are you waiting for someone?"

"Uh...no!" I stuttered a bit before recovering, "I mean no, I'm not waiting for anyone. All alone here."

She giggled as she took a seat across from me. Maybe my luck was getting better. Raising a hand she called out, "A drink here, please."

Manners. That was surprising. Most the soldiers here were pretty rough characters, even the women. But she definetly wasn't like most of the soldiers here. She radiated charisma and a certain aura like only a few people I'd met. It gave me a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it wasn't unpleasant. I felt as though these people were full of life. They all overflowed with this aura that I was sure could have inspired anyone. What was so strange was that these people were often completely different. Many of them made lousy impressions, except for that aura.

Across from me, the dark-haired woman took her drink from a server and took a sip. As she did, she grimaced and muttered, "Not exactly the strongest stuff, is it?"

I just shook my head. "Are you even old enough to be drinking?"

She rewarded me with a full, bright smile. "Flatterer. I'm older than I look, but does that really matter?" She leaned toward me, as though planning a conspiracy, and whispered, "You know, I managed to grab some Tarisian ale, back when we were on Taris. I have it back in my room. Care to join me?"

I shared her smile and nodded as she placed a handful of credits on the table. As we left the room I heard one of the other soldiers yell, "Nice going Rand! She's a real looker!"

Next to me, the woman giggled again and led me to her room. Yeah, I decided, my luck is definitely getting better.

***

Looking back, I remember very little from that night. Just small flashbacks between sips of Tarisian ale.

I told her that Rand was really my last name, and to call me that because my first name was horrible. She laughed and told me I could always change it.

I told her about my family and the problems we had with each other. She smiled sadly and told me how she missed her long-dead mother, and that she hadn't heard from her father since the beginning of the Mandalorian Wars.

I told her my reasons for going to war were selfish; for my own monetary and emotional gain. She gave me another wry smile and declared she was going to save the galaxy.

***

The next morning I woke up in her bed: fully clothed, tucked in tightly, and with a killer headache. Not exactly how I pictured waking up after spending a night with a pretty woman, but I always forget how little Tarisian ale it takes to knock a person out. So much for getting lucky. It could have been worse, I suppose. She could have had me beaten, robbed, and dumped out in some back alley.

As I regained consciousness, I heard two people speaking:

A man: "This man...please tell me you didn't..."

And the woman from the night before: "No, we didn't. The guy just can't hold his ale. I didn't know where he was staying or who to hand him off to, so I let him stay here after he passed out. Don't worry, I behaved myself. I even slept on the floor after tucking him in."

I hoped with all my heart the man wasn't her boyfriend; I was definitely in an incriminating position.

I sat up, opened my eyes, and saw the woman moving around and getting dressed. Gray trousers and boots covered her legs. On her upper body she wore a sleeveless garment that looked like it could be tightened and loosened by the strings and clasps surrounding it. Around her waist she wore two lightsabers. Something in the back of my mind pointed out, She's a Jedi, even as my head began to spin.

"Hey, you think you could tighten this for me?" The woman asked. "I think the size of my chest is still a bit too obvious."

Suddenly, a massive figure stepped into my vision. The man had to be over six feet tall, and dwarfed the woman in physical size. He had one of those weird auras, similar to hers, but it paled in comparison. His head was bald; in place of hair, two violet tattoos ran down the back of his head. The clothing he wore was blood-red and vaguely robe-like. He also wore a single lightsaber at his waist.

He stepped up to her and tugged on the back of her garment. "I think that's as tight as were getting it, Revan. You'll just have to hope that your robes cover the rest."

My eyes widened as I processed what he said. Revan. I shook my head and groaned. The woman had never mentioned her name last night, but...

"You're Revan?" I asked. "As in, the Jedi? But I thought Revan was..."

"Older?" Revan chuckled. "Or maybe a man? See, Malak? This is exactly why I'm dressing this way. Can't give the people something totally unexpected. They'd all go into shock before the battle even started."

Revan pulled another shirt on over the first. It was lightweight, and white with long sleeves and cuffs around the wrists. I used this time to think. Or rather try; my head was still buzzing.

"I don't understand..." I began.

Revan turned to me with a slight smile, but it was Malak who explained, "People are expecting a strong leader, knowledgeable in battle tactics. That's exactly what Revan is, but who would believe it just by looking at her?"

It certainly hadn't crossed my mind last night. Revan assumed her wry expression again at Malak's backhanded compliment as he continued. "Morale would fall again, because people would be skeptical at the thought of being lead by a young woman. They expect a man, probably older, and certainly battle-hardened." He smiled at Revan and in near sotto voce added, "The biggest battle Revan's been in is with her hairbrush in the morning."

Revan smacked Malak on the arm and moved over to pick up her gray robe. She slid it on, then pulled the hood up over her head, and down over her eyes.

"So, how do I look?"

I have to admit, I was impressed. At first glance, there was no way to tell whether she was male or female. Only after a longer study were the minor details noticeable, like her hips and the feminine lines of her nose and mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Malak nod in approval.

"Now we just have to hope my master was right; that the Force watches over old women and fools," she murmured.

Malak smiled, "You're certainly not an old woman."

"And neither are you. But we just might be fools. Well...shall we go meet the commanding officers, then?" She asked.

Malak glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"

Revan pulled her hood back slightly and scrutinized me carefully. "I trust him. What does he have to gain by telling anyone I'm a girl? We only need that advantage until I can prove my skills. And it's not like I have anything expensive left here; my lightsabers are the most valuable things I own. Besides, he probably has to be ready for role call soon. Can you let yourself out?"

I flinched at the mention of role call. Today was not going to be fun. Unless...

"Yeah, no problem, but do you think you could do something for my head before you go?"

She smiled and put her hand under my chin. As she closed her eyes I felt my skin warm up, as though her aura was flowing into me. The fuzzy, addled feeling left my brain as the alcohol left my system.

"There." She opened her eyes and stepped back. "That should be enough to get you through the day, at least."

With that, she pulled the hood back down over her eyes and left the room. Malak followed her after giving me another sideways glance.

Having no more reason to hang around, I went to get ready for my duties.

***

That was almost ten years ago. Funny how some things stick in your memory; funny who you remember and how you remember them. But people can change. And a person can learn from their experiences; from their memories.

Revan said the Force watches over old women and fools. I know I've heard Kreia say that more than once. She's the old woman and I'm the fool, apparently. But I shouldn't be surprised. The Exile said Kreia was Revan's first master. No wonder Revan turned to the Dark Side. I'm sure that witch could drive anyone into a destructive rampage.

I'm certain that, like Revan, Kreia's portraying herself as something more or less than she really is. She certainly has an ulterior motive. Not that I can be the one to point this out to the Exile. I have secrets too, and Kreia has a hold on me.

From what I've heard, Revan's Jedi Generals did some awful things during the Mandalorian wars as well, but the Exile is trying so hard to redeem herself that I don't think she'd understand. Everything is only right or wrong to her: if you aren't repentant for what you've done--if you don't have the right excuses--you aren't sorry.

She says she felt the Jedi fall; she chose to leave them. Maybe that's the truth, but she doesn't realize what it was like for the soldiers. We were sure Revan would save us. In the end she betrayed us, and we didn't even realize it. No--we did realize, but we didn't care. Revan was just so.../right/ in everything she did. We followed her without question, just like the crew is following the Exile now.

Maybe I am being a fool, leaving my fate in the hands of another unstable, maniacal Jedi. Or maybe the Exile will be the one to save us all. After all, Revan really did save the galaxy--not merely from the Mandalorians, but from herself as well.

I just hope the Exile realizes how dangerous Kreia is before its too late. Otherwise, I have a really bad feeling about how this all will end.