Revered and Reviled

Coruscant was a beautiful world, and it seemed to know that. Everyone who lived there was happy, even in the midst of a terrible war. The sunsets were perfect, the weather temperate and the air sweet. The whole world balanced itself, embraced by the Force and the natural order of the galaxy.
It seemed impossible that two Sith Lords could even exist on Coruscant, let alone be sneaking around the bustling marketplace trying not to attract any attention.
"This is foolish, Revan," Malak whispered as loudly as he dared.
Revan laughed. In a world of Jedi and politicians, populated with aliens everywhere, it didn't stand out too much that two people with deep hoods were walking slowly through the marketplace. "Stop talking before someone notices you."
Malak mentally gritted his teeth. He was wearing a deep hood and a different prosthetic, but mainly, his disguise was that no one would expect to see a Sith Lord on Coruscant. Revan's disguise consisted of nothing more than taking off the mask. Malak had a question about that, but he couldn't ask her until they were back on the smuggler's ship. Even the smuggler didn't know who his passengers really were.
A traitor, in exchange for safety and a promise of power, had let them into the Jedi Archives unseen. Revan had spent a few hours searching, and had come away with copies of two old journals. Malak was here because he suspected what Revan was really after. There were rumors of an extraordinarily gifted Padawan, one with the ability to inspire entire armies. A rare talent, and one that would explain how the Republic had held out so long.
Malak suspected that Revan wanted to learn how to use it herself.
They were making their way back to the ship, trying to avoid notice. Or at least, Malak was. Revan was shopping. He'd given up trying to calculate how much she had already spent.
"Alek?" A soft voice, a whisper, a hand laid on his arm. "It is you! What – what are you doing here?" she asked fearfully.
Malak sighed, and pulled his arm away. "Research."
"A friend of yours?" asked Revan curiously.
"Someone I knew once." Malak looked over the woman, as if seeing her for the first time. The shape was wrong, somehow, as if his eyes had been expecting to see something else. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here," she said nervously. She looked around. "You shouldn't be here, Alek. You've changed, you've changed so much."
Malak shrugged. For some reason, he couldn't feel that he had ever loved her. She was beautiful, yes. Lovely, even. But he knew that she belonged to someone else now, and he couldn't bring himself to care about her anymore. "Things change," he said calmly. "Don't worry, you're in no danger. As I said, I'm here to do research. Nothing more."
She stared at him, seeking the truth in his eyes.
"Are you going to turn me in?" he asked calmly. He knew she wouldn't. The lack of love was not mutual, he realized.
She shook her head. "Please leave, Alek, before someone else recognizes you." Unspoken, the name of her lover. Husband, by now, probably. Another Jedi, not a fallen one.
Malak looked her over again, and wondered what had changed. He remembered everything about her, he just didn't care. He shrugged it off, and nodded to Revan. Walked away without another word, even as he felt her eyes on him, following him as he walked out of her life again.
Revan paid for her purchase and followed Malak out of the marketplace. "I hope that doesn't happen every time I take you to a planet. How many of those do you have?"
"Enough, Revan."
Revan giggled, a strange sound to hear from a Sith Lord. "She loves you, you should have taken her with you. Spare some of your slaves the overtime."
"She does not love me, Revan. She married someone else."
"Oh, is that all?" Revan laughed scornfully. "Kill him and take her for yourself."
"She chose someone else," Malak said again. "I am no longer interested."
"Oh," Revan pondered. "So if she had chosen you, you would have…what? Left the Sith? Settled down on Coruscant? I can see you as a politician," Revan mused.
"No."
"Hm? Not a politician? Serving in the military, then?"
"Enough, Revan," said Malak wearily. "She chose someone else, and I did not love her enough to pursue her."
Revan stopped suddenly to buy a bag of ripe, juicy fruit native to Dantooine. "Oh, I love these!" she purred. "Ah, I forgot. You can't… never mind." She peeled one, and popped it into her mouth.
Malak did not answer. He was thinking, trying to hunt down an elusive scrap of memory. A voice. A name. Something that did matter to him, even as the sight of a past lover did not. Something that he wanted, more than he wanted anything else, even without knowing what it was.
They made it back to ship without running into anyone else who knew Malak from his earlier days, and Malak wondered again at the fact that no one besides him knew what Revan looked like at all. And even he barely knew, he realized. Without thinking, he followed her on the ship, and walked into the room she had appropriated as her own quarters right behind her.
Revan undid her belt and began to slip off her robe. Malak pulled it away from her, revealing her form, clad only in a light tunic and tight leggings beneath.
"Malak! What are you doing?" Revan demanded. She grabbed her robe back from him.
Malak eyed her carefully, trying to ignore the clothes and see the shape beneath. "Your hair is the wrong color." He touched the long braid of reddish-brown hair. "You've dyed it."
"Do you have a point, Malak? Besides angering me?"
He looked at her again. "You could be any of them."
Revan didn't answer immediately, but put her robe back on and tied it securely. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Malak. Explain yourself."
"What are you playing at, Revan? What do you want from me?" He knew that she was lying. He just didn't understand why, and it was maddening.
"You're being more insane than usual, Malak. Does this have something to do with your little woman?"
"No," he snapped. "This has to do with you, impersonating the slaves on my ship."
"What?" Revan stared at him in shock. "Have you completely lost your mind?"
"Don't make me check your arms for bruises, Revan. They all have the same shape as you. The same hair. Only the color is different."
"Malak, I don't know whether to be flattered or disgusted that you would think that I would even contemplate such a thing." Revan sneered. "You're being ridiculous. Not every woman in the galaxy lusts after you, Malak, despite all the evidence to the contrary."
"The name, Revan. Tell me the name."
"What? This again, Malak? Really?" Revan sighed. "It's not worth your time, Malak. Why do you keep punishing yourself? Stop chasing after this lost memory. Let it go."
"How can I?" he asked desperately. "You did this to me, Revan. You know the torture you are inflicting on me. Every time I think I can give up this fight, you do something to reopen the wound. Why?" Malak stepped forward, closer to her. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Revan drew back. "Don't you dare touch me, Malak! I am not a woman for you to play with, I am a Sith Lord and your Master!" Her fury was unfeigned, and Malak held still.
He glared at her. All his senses told him she was lying, that the soft, slender form before him had been in his bed more than once. He knew that she had somehow engineered the meeting with the woman from his past. At that moment, he hated Revan more than he ever had before. "Very well, Master. Play your little game," he snarled. "One day you will push me too far, Master."
Revan laughed. "Anytime you want to try challenging me again, Malak, you will be welcome. How about now?"
Malak shook his head. "If I challenge you, Master, it will be of a time and place of my own choosing."
"Pity. HK, put that down."
Malak turned, and flinched at the sight of the assassin droid's gun barrel pointed directly at his skull.
"Observation: Master, the organic meatbag has violated the distance protocol. Suggestion: Shall I kill him now?"
"No, let him go."
"Query: You're certain, Master? Recommendation: I could make him scream a little, or remove some more non-essential parts. Observation: He has plenty to spare."
Malak growled.
Revan laughed. "No, well, perhaps a bit of screaming is in order. He's gotten a bit above himself lately."
Malak moved, but the droid was faster and the only place to retreat was into Revan's personal space. The droid's foot shot out, and slammed into Malak, right between the legs.
Revan burst out laughing as Malak dropped to the floor, groaning. "Well done!" She stepped carefully around him. "Out, HK. Leave him alone for now."
"Affirmative, Master. Warning: The meatbag will seek revenge."
"Good," smiled Revan, "it will give him something else to think about."