Before - Legends (KoTOR) From the Journal of M.V. *Updated 9/15*

Title: From the Journal of M.V. (this is a working title, I'm not 100% pleased with it)

Timeframe: After Knights of the Old Republic II

Characters: Disciple, Bao-Dur, Exile, Atton, Mission, Mandalore and a cast of exciting OC

Genre: Adventure/Romance/Intrigue

Summary: After the Ebon Hawk is wrecked in the wake of Kreia's death, the Disciple is gravely injured. When he recovers he finds that his memory is gone and life is not what it once was. He embarks on a journey to understand his past and to understand the mysterious woman who has vanished, perhaps forever, from his world.

This is an unfinished story but I'm hard at work on completing it. Please feel free to comment with any suggestions or thoughts or with any corrections on grammar/universe. I know the Disciple isn't a main character in the game, but I found his story very intriguing and wanted to take it somewhere new. Enjoy! I'll do a post per part.

***

The Iridonian waited in the shadows, a strong breeze blowing in from the window behind him. Tirelessly, he watched the Jedi sleep. At his side, a small gray remote hovered a few feet off the ground. He had been contacted by the medical droids in the small hospital annex the day before, and he had returned to the hospital to recover the Jedi, as he had sworn to do. An uneasy feeling persisted in the Iridonian?s chest, a feeling which the Force had stirred in him as he made the journey to Jaroon, a tiny, inconsequential jungle planet in the outer stretches of the galaxy. And now he was there, back again on Jaroon, back to find that the Jedi had awoken. Finally, the last of their troop had recovered.

The Jedi?s chest rose and fell gently under the stiff duvet; he appeared peaceful and whole, the last of his injuries having healed months ago. A reddish-blonde beard darkened his jaw, and his hair had grown out into soft yellow waves. Bao-dur took a step toward the hospital bed, he had been waiting for hours for the Jedi to stir, and his patient, silent watch had provoked painful memories, memories he had hoped to forget.

?You will come for him,? she had said, standing in the hallway outside that very room. It was a year ago that she had left, a year ago that Bao-dur had been given this mission.

?Yes, General,? the Iridonian replied, respectful even at the end. He was no fool, he knew this could be their last meeting and it was not in his nature to deny her anything. The woman nodded, meeting his eyes.

?This is your final task, your obligation to me is ended,? she added.

?Will you return if he wakes?? Bao-dur asked.

?No. Where I am going, no one may follow. There is a very good chance I shall not return.?

Bao-Dur saluted the petite Jedi. The woman turned to go, holding her shoulders back despite the exhaustion in her eyes. Bao-dur watched her take a few pained steps down the hall and then called out to her.

?Why are you doing this??

?He must reach Dantooine. He has a destiny there and he will be needed. My destiny is apart, I must go to the Unknown Regions, I am our last hope against the Sith empire. I know it sounds crazy, but what choice do I have??

She turned, hesitated, and then came back down the hall. Smiling, she hugged the Iridonian to her and they stood embracing for several minutes; Bao-dur could not remember how long exactly. It was good to have human contact, to touch someone else. He could feel the Force moving through her, sliding into him, bolstering his heart with a little jolt of courage. This was her power, he knew, the power to bring out the very best in her companions. If he could have convinced her to stay he would have tried, but he knew that her mind, once made up, was a formidable, concrete thing.

?And if he asks after you?? Bao-dur whispered. In his arms, she flinched.

?Tell him? Tell him that the Force unites us all.?

Bao-dur watched her leave through a mist of tears, his remote hovering a few feet away, beeping mournfully. While he had been charged with a tricky task, the journey ahead of her w

 

Part II

***

It was almost too easy.

Once he understood the magnitude of the deception, the Disciple began to untangle the knot with surprising speed. He paid close attention to the nature of the conversations that cut off and he began to see a pattern. There were repeated words, ideas, phrases, things that hinted at a deeper significance. Often, the conversations were about a ?she? or ?Sith Empire.? The Disciple had learned that the Sith were growing an army somewhere, that their entire culture still flourished somewhere in the depths of space. This threat had been secondary to the problems immediately facing the enclave, such as the formation of the new Jedi Council, and the establishment of reliable ties on other planets. The Sith Empire was referred to in the future; it would have to be dealt with eventually, but for now the Jedi were too weak to be an effective countermeasure.

His search went on for weeks, during which he was uncharacteristically helpful and obliging. No one interpreted this sign correctly, believing him only to be recovering more and more and embracing his new life in the enclave. At night the Disciple wrestled with his own shattered memories, fighting incessantly to rebuild, remember, and confront.

Finally, in the coldest days of winter, the Disciple stumbled upon the final and greatest clue. He had had a subtle hand in bringing about the discovery, mentioning frequently to Mission that he felt occupied with his memories. Cunningly, he made her swear silence and proceeded to tell her that he was suspicious of his past, and that he had discovered a great hole that he was determined to fill in. The effect on Mission was not immediate, but the conversations persisted until one freezing, rainy evening. A full moon glowed behind the rain clouds, casting an eerie, milky light over the drenched enclave.

The Disciple had crept silently through the halls, cloaking himself in the power of the Force. He arrived outside Bao-Dur?s quarters and pressed himself to the wall, hearing at once the argument that raged inside. Closing his eyes he projected himself into the room and heard with perfect clarity the conversation between Bao-Dur and Mission.

?Look, I swore I wouldn?t say anything to anyone but I can?t stay quiet any longer. He knows, Bao, he knows we?re keeping something from him. He won?t stop talking about it, he?s obsessed,? Mission cried, exasperated. Bao-Dur?s pacing footsteps thundered in the Disciple?s mind, a ticking clock.

?Did you tell him anything?? Bao-Dur demanded, coming to a stop.

?No!?

?Mission??

?I didn?t say a word.?

?Good.?

?What do you mean ?good?? How can you do this to him, he?s your friend!?

?Mission, you don?t know the whole story, I know it seems unfair, but I was entrusted with a task - ?

?Task or no it isn?t right. So what if she?s in the Unknown Regions? Let him go! It?s not our decision to make!?

?It?s not that simple, Mission, he has a destiny to fulfill here.?

There was a pause and the Disciple?s heart began to beat furiously. It was coming, the secret, it was close enough to taste.

?Why was he out for so long?? Mission asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.

?What do you mean??

?The others, you and the Exile and Mira, whoever, they recovered in a month or two, no problem, and go on their way. But him? He?s out for a year? It doesn?t add up.?

?Mission - ?

?Don?t ?Mission? me, bantha breath, you owe me an explanation, and you owe him even more.?

?I don?t know exactly why. There was an idea? The Exile thought maybe he tried to save her. It?s complicated, we don?t even know where the blast came from.?

?But you said it was Kre - ?

?I know what I said, but nothing is certain. Yes, the Exile believed Kreia?s death sent a ripple through the galaxy and the Ebon Hawk was caught in it. It wasn?t? It was mental, this energy. It knocked the ship around, sure, but it was meant to destroy us. The Exile? I don?t know, she thinks the Disciple intervened, anticipated the blast somehow and

 

Dang, what a read!

You literally nailed down the Discple's character with excellnet precision. I could see him writing those letters in my head.

You're story has an interesting direction and I'm looking forward to more.

 

(thank you for the quick response, it's such a happy drug!)

Part III
* * *

Early morning arrived with a streak of silver across the horizon. A fresh group of rain clouds bloomed with gray flowers in the distance, spreading and reaching toward the enclave. The Disciple awoke amidst a scattering of papers and string. He yawned, unexpectedly calm. During the night his mind had been busy, visited in sleep by countless visions and memories. He rose that morning with her face in front of his eyes, her smile still bright and fresh in his mind.

In dreams he had seen her, remembered their nights meditating in companionable silence on the Ebon Hawk. They could sit together for hours, faces blank and serene while in their wandering minds a courtship unfolded. One would create a paradise from nothing and invite the other to explore it, roam its vine-covered paths and discovers its secrets. It was a slow, playful game of hide and seek that culminated in shared laughter and sweet, clandestine flirtation. This was what had led him down the path; these invisible pursuits had turned his innocent, boyhood infatuation into adult love. They danced an intricate waltz of hints and clues that disappeared during the daylight, hidden behind the thunder clouds of war and danger, a secret sun waiting for its day to shine.

It was easier to bear in many ways, knowing that he had chased her for a reason and that she had given him cause to do so. Atton had lusted after her openly and watched, red-faced with envy as the Exile and Disciple meditated on a nightly basis, often until the first pale glimpses of dawn. He felt refreshed by the memories, and once awake, debated the right course of action. On the one hand he knew she wanted to pursue the Sith alone to keep her friends safe from harm, he wished to respect her decision but realized something that she did not. It was possible that she knew she would fail without help and carried on anyway, but the Disciple suspected that she was in deep denial. The reality of the situation was obvious to him: she would need a partner to stay alive. It was indicative of her character that she would put her friends before her own survival, and he wished she had been more selfish.

Yes, he would see her face again, he would touch her small hand and bury his nose in her mane of golden hair, not in any meditation, but in the open, in front of anyone who cared to see.

The Disciple sat on his bed and continued looking through the contents of the box. He had heard of Jedi using the Force to absorb memories and thoughts from objects. It was an advanced technique with a slim chance of success, but he decided it was worth a try. He picked up the pair of lightsabers and held them in his lap. Vague feelings of power and might stirred in him, but that was to be expected. Nothing else came. He set them aside and picked up an orange ribbon that had been tucked into one of the letters. For a moment nothing happened, he could sense only the buzzing minds of the enclave, and then, slowly, an image came to him, as clear as if a person had just stepped into the room.

He stared, mesmerized by the sight of this vision, the woman he pursued, standing in his room, sparkling with an inner radiance he couldn't quite describe, and dressed in almost nothing. She wore a dancer?s costume, her hair tied up in braids and twists, the orange ribbons holding it in place. The woman was smiling shyly, avoiding direct eye contact as she stood in the revealing outfit. A voice crackled to life out of the air, it was Rand, somewhere behind the Disciple.

?Shoulders back. You?re a dancer now; you have to act the part or you won?t fool Vogga for a second.?

The Disciple could guess that he had been speechless then as he was now. The petite woman squared her shoulders and for a second her gaze met his. He wasn?t sure it was in the memory or that moment, but he felt a strange ripple all down his body, as if her eyes had flashed a clear message. It could have been lust, awe or fear or a combinati

 

Part IV

* * *

The Disciple stared out the window as the ship made its slow descent onto Onderon?s forest moon, Dxun. As they neared the landing pad, the past seemed to rise up to meet him. There would be time, he knew, to explore those memories. For now he needed to stay in the present. He and Bao-Dur had come with the intention of learning where exactly the Exile had gone, and he knew their target might not be forthcoming with the information.

?This is Bao-Dur piloting the Ruby Thrush, we are embarking on our final decent, do you copy, tower?? Bao-Dur called into the com; a second later a low voice crackled to life on the other end and echoed in the small cockpit.

?Ruby Thrush you have clearance for landing, over.?

?This is it,? Bao-Dur murmured, not looking at the Disciple. The ship straightened out a little roughly, lowering its sleek body into the wide open hangar of the Madalorian camp. A faint crashing noise issued from the back of the ship near the cargo hold.

?What in the name of Yun-Harla was that?? Bao-Dur demanded, spinning around. The Disciple stood, placing a hand on the Iridonian?s shoulder.

?Land the ship, I?ll search the cargo hold,? the Disciple replied, taking up his lightsabers. He crept slowly to the back of the ship, past the navigational charts, medical bay and engine room. A muted rustling could be heard behind the door of the cargo hold. His hand reached slowly, silently and then flipped the locking mechanism outside the door. It flew open and he saw a flourish of blue. His lightsabers were crossed in front of his face to intercept the blow before he could even think enough to send the signal to his brain.

?Mission?? he blurted out, baffled. There was the Twi?lek, the blue blade of her lightsaber cradled in the green X of his. She stumbled backward, crying out in surprise, and sheathed her weapon.

?What do you think you?re doing here?? he demanded, advancing on her. Mission struggled to get to her feet, wiping furiously at a spot of grease on her forearm.

?Guess. I couldn?t let you two go off without me - You?d get yourselves killed!?

?You shouldn?t be here, Mission, this isn?t a game,? the Disciple said sternly, tucking his lightsabers into his belt.

"I'm a big girl," she countered, tipping her chin skyward.

"After we finish up here we'll take you back to Dantooine," the Disciple said. Mission balked.

"You most certainly will not!"

"Don't argue with me, Mission, you can't possibly understand how much danger you're in. Dantooine needs you right now, they need Jedi."

She shrugged and pushed past him, sassing her way to the cockpit.

?Dantooine needs Jedi, do they? Maybe you should take your own advice, pal. Besides, the enclave would be boring without you guys, I didn?t want to stay so here I am,? she said nonchalantly. ?Hey Bao!?

The Iridonian was already facing her, his arms crossed over his chest.

?I cannot believe you, Mission,? he said, shaking his head. She patted his horned head good-naturedly.

?Relax, I can handle myself, remember? Hello? Star Forge??

?We?ll discuss this later,? Bao-Dur muttered, turning back to the cockpit controls, ?just stay out of trouble for now.?

The ship touched down with a rocking motion and Mission clutched Bao-Dur?s shoulder to keep from falling over. The Disciple ignored them, sweeping out of the cockpit; he could guess that they would share some kind of secret look, a tacit pact to keep the Disciple in line, but he was determined to have his own way. He had been kept in the dark long enough; there was no more room for secrets and lies.

A blast of chill air met him as he disembarked the Ruby Thrush. Four Mandalorians in full battle dress stood waiting. They saluted, their weapons sheathed. The Disciple bowed low to them and then spotted a taller, broader Mandalorian approaching from the open hangar bay doors; the escorts moved apart to allow the larger man through.

?Mandalore, thank you for receiving us,? the Disciple said, bowing again.

?A

 

Part V
* * *
What is it that I could give you to change all of this mess into something comprehensible? The days pass, the knot tightens and still nothing, nothing makes sense. If I reach out for you with cold hands, if somehow you feel a fraction of my suffering, will that bring us, at last, to the end? We fall in love, we destroy ourselves; we destroy that which we covet the most.

It was like falling through a freezing cold rain, feeling the ground rising up to meet the free-falling body, then realizing that there was no ground at all, no end to the electric stabbing that passed freely through veins, blood, flesh. The Exile found herself smiling, however, through the unbelievable pain.

I deserve this, she thought, purifying fire, torture, I deserve it all.

Darth Giresh smiled, too, but for very different reasons. Through the smoke that rose off of her singed skin she could see his rodent?s face. His eyes were just holes now, flashing embers somewhere far away, probably in a private paradise. It was clear he felt immense pleasure, that torturing her was even better than sport. Yes it was much better, it was art.

Strangely enough, she didn?t know what the Sith wanted from her. They could just kill her and be done with it instead of insisting on this pointless torture. What did she have left to confess? There was nothing of consequence, really, just personal secrets that would mean nothing to these conquerors. She possessed no useful information, there was no master plan, there was no one coming to crush the Sith and deliver her from her own mistakes.

Over the loud bursts of lightning that ran all over her body, the Exile could hear the Sith Lord laughing. It was incredible, she thought, how he could just keep laughing and laughing, never running out of breath, never pausing to rest his voice. It was difficult to see anything, her vision fading in and out as her eyesight began to fail, but she could make out a few figures standing over the Sith?s shoulder, perhaps apprentices present to watch a true master at work. Despite the presence of the younger Sith, the master seemed completely unaware of them.

The Exile wasn?t sure why they were trying so hard to hurt her. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she was aware of a hidden room where she could stay until all this ridiculous pain was over. They didn?t understand, not really, that she was untouchable in the physical sense of the word. No amount of lightning or fire or poison could destroy her, but she wasn?t certain why. Perhaps it was because she had a destiny left to fulfill, perhaps it was because she simply didn?t want to give up. But the Sith master continued, chuckling and smirking as he administered what, to anyone else, would have been a fatal dosage of pain.

?You are breaking,? Darth Giresh murmured to her, ?Yes, that?s good, let go of your life, become an empty vessel and I will fill you with new purpose.?

The Exile would have spit in his face if she had the energy left, instead, she let her eyes roll back into her head, allowed the charade to continue and let the Sith think that she was close to losing herself. Suddenly, the pain stopped and the Sith stepped away. She was unable to sit down, and instead slumped against the wall, chained up and restrained.

These visits continued on and off for the next few days. The Exile was given the impression that each time, the Sith, who called himself Darth Giresh, expected her to yield and beg for her own life. Perhaps he overestimated her self-worth, for she never did, never asked for mercy and never pleaded with him to stop. She endured the sessions silently, listening with morbid curiosity to the sounds of her own spine tingling with electricity, to the sickening sizzle that resonated outward and echoed in the tiny room. It seemed odd that Darth Giresh did not become frustrated, other Sith might have screamed at her to give up and give in to their dark teachings, but his voice never raised above an awed whisper, and he would merely grow tired of

 

Well, all I can say is wow! I bow to your deep understanding of EU canon. Well done, I wanted to stop reading and do other stuff, but no, I just couldn't.

 

Thanks Dar_Manda, your understanding ain't so shabby. I'm loving your fic. Here's an update for today:

Part VI
(in which: The Disciple finally has a sit down with Mandalore and the Exile discovers the identity of her mysterious Sith helper)

* * *

?Go ahead, have seconds,? Mandalore said, sitting down across from the Disciple. ?You?re looking scrawny.?

?Thank you,? the Disciple said, smiling across the table at his warrior friend. They had eaten dinner with plenty of good-natured chitchat, Mandalore having significantly more to say considering the Disciple had been asleep for much of their time apart.

The Disciple had to hand it to the Mandalorians, they trained hard and they rewarded themselves with incredibly rich food. It was good, he decided, to eat a meal privately with someone he respected, someone who did not look at him as if he were a broken, untrustworthy thing. They sat across from one another at a small, hand-carved table in Mandalore?s private chambers. The walls were littered with an astounding variety of war memorabilia, from fragments of grenades to blood-stained shawls and blaster triggers. The Disciple had never pegged the man for a sentimentalist, but in a way it made sense; the only thing Mandalore had left was his war wounds and his past battles. Mandalore seemed to pick up on the uneasiness of the Disciple?s sudden silence and set down his mug of water.

?Those two friends of yours giving you a hard time?? he asked.

?I cannot blame them,? the Disciple said. ?This is all very? Awkward. By trying to protect me they only made my life more difficult, but I do believe their hearts were in the right place. Still, it?s hard not to feel like I?m the butt of some cosmic joke.?

?How do you figure that?? Mandalore asked, raising one eyebrow.

?I sense some larger truth is constantly slipping through my fingers, just as I?m certain I?ve remembered something important, it disappears. It?s unbelievably frustrating. Maybe I?m not really remembering anything, maybe I?m just hoping,? he said, skewering another chili dumpling onto his fork.

?Trust yourself,? Mandalore said, lowering his voice despite their privacy. ?We went through a lot of crazy bloah on the Hawk, there were a few times I didn?t think we were going to make it out alive? I never thought I would see that frak storm on Onderon resolved peacefully but the unexpected can happen.?

?You know why I came, I suppose,? the Disciple murmured.

?You?re going after her,? Mandalore said, nodding. ?I knew it was just a matter of time before you showed up asking questions. I?m prepared to tell you what I know, but I want you to swear something to me first.?

?What is it?? the Disciple asked.

?Don?t go looking for her. But if you insist on dying and you do go after her, don?t tell her I squealed. I?m pretty sure she wouldn?t like it,? Mandalore said, deadly serious.

?I can agree to that,? the Disciple said. ?I know the chances of survival are low, but what alternative is there? Consider how much she sacrificed for us all, it doesn?t sit right with me to let her fight an entire empire on her own.?
Canderous was staring at him, his eyes slightly wild and unhinged. Suddenly, the old warrior cracked a smile and slammed his hand down on the table, sending his cutlery flying.

?I like you, kid, I always have. You and that Rand character had some issues, but you never balked from a fight and I like that. And hey, you should keep the beard, it?s a good look, you can always trust a man with a good beard.?

?Thank you,? the Disciple said.

?All right, here goes. After the Hawk took a header on Jaroon she took off pretty quick. She came with me, here, to Dxun. Apparently she wanted some weapons, that was fine with me, I didn?t know she meant half of the damn armory,? Canderous said with a fond chuckle.

?How long did she stay?? the Disciple asked, forgetting all about his half-full plate.

?About a month, she trained pretty hard with the boys, they put her through the works but nothing seemed to faz

 

Part VII

* * *

?You?re still awake??

Mission turned around quickly, finding Bao-Dur standing in the corridor, dressed in a thin sleeping robe. She smiled with what little energy she had left and nodded to the seat next to her. Perfectly sensible of his body outlined beneath the robe, she kept her eyes glued to the table. The Ebon Hawk was speeding away from Dxun, guided by the coordinates generously provided by Mandalore and his team of analysts, who gave them their best estimate of the Exile?s journey. Mandalore had seemed sad to see them go, clutching the Disciple?s wrist with fatherly tenderness.

One sleeve on the Iridonian?s robe was pulled up, revealing the blue glow of his electrically attached arm. Mission had often wondered what would happen if she stuck her fingers into the jet of blue light, but she had never felt bold enough to ask him; she assumed the answer would involve her losing one or all of said fingers. He sat beside her and glanced at the row of pazaak cards; she had been playing against herself. In the next room the Disciple was silent, asleep for the moment.

?I don?t sleep much anymore,? Mission murmured, shuffling the cards skillfully and dealing them. Bao-Dur took up the cards she dealt, keeping his eyes firmly locked on her.

?You have to stop worrying about him,? Bao-Dur said gently. ?He?s remembering more and more. He?ll soon be set right again.?

?Well, I?m glad you?re optimistic. Anyway, it isn?t that,? Mission said, whispering. ?It?s about Revan. I received a transmission from Zaalbar an hour ago. She?s left the battle, she returned to Coruscant. She and Admiral Onasi disappeared; no one knows where they?ve gone to.?

?What? She?s defected?? Bao-Dur hissed.

?Your Exile is on her own, Revan?s gone home.?

?I knew it,? Bao-Dur said, shaking his head in despair. ?I knew this would happen. These women get it in their heads that they can take on the whole world, that somehow they don?t need anyone?s help - ?

?Excuse me, what do you mean these women?? Mission asked, setting down her cards.

?Revan? The Exile? It?s ridiculous. It will take an army to destroy the Sith, many armies, not one bull-headed woman,? Bao-Dur replied. Mission set her mouth in a firm line, studying the Iridonian closely. They had grown closer during their brief stay on Dxun, but not to the point where she could take what he said at face value.

?It has nothing to do with them being women. Besides, she?s your General. You said yourself she was a frakkin hurricane on Malachor. Anyway, I don?t see the Republic falling over themselves to offer any armies for the job; Revan was just trying to save lives by sacrificing her own,? Mission countered.

?Oh and that worked out brilliantly, didn?t it?? he scoffed. ?Now she?s run off with the Admiral of the Republic forces. Don?t you get it, Mission? Revan?s sending a message: It?s hopeless, turn back now, have a life while you still can.?

?You can?t speak for her,? Mission whispered fiercely. ?You never even met her, I did. I know she went to war with the best intentions and when she figured out she was in trouble she left. Wouldn?t you do the same? What if you went to fight the Sith by yourself? Can you imagine how lonely that would be? And what if I was waiting on Dantooine for you??

Mission covered her mouth. She had gone too far. It was never supposed to be about them, and she knew better than to hint that they figured into the equation. They were supposed to be delivering the Disciple, dropping him like a proton bomb on the Exile in the hope it would give her the extra edge she needed and tip the balance of the war. Whatever happened to she and Bao-Dur was inconsequential in the midst of so much responsibility, and she didn?t want to invite too much intimacy. It was pointless, she knew, to encourage him when they might be dead any day.

Bao-Dur smiled sadly at her and moved his chair closer.

?Say that again,? he murmured.

?Say what?? she asked, blushing deep blue and looking away.

??That