Archive of Our Own

Although it was true that the Living Force was everywhere, there were certain places in the universe where it seemed particularly strong. Some special combination of elements or confluence of currents made such places havens for peace and meditation, regardless of whether the inhabitants understood the why of what made them so. Such a place was the planet Selebaraan. On it, the Jedi had built a retreat for the members of their order. A place where they could go and be alone for safe and undisturbed meditation or intensive training. It was close to Coruscant, but because the approach was a difficult one for ships, it remained largely unpopulated. Jedi reflexes allowed them to navigate the surrounding asteroid field with relative ease, but for the rest of the universe, it was a tricky business. And then there were the vast electrical storms in the upper atmosphere that cut off communications except for once a week. You could only get on or off the planet during a twelve hour period each week when the storms abated. 

Flying his own light craft transport, Obi-Wan clung to the remnants of his discipline, and wove between the asteroids. Hang in there, he told himself, hoping that time spent in mediation and quiet in the peaceful forests of the planet would help him come to grips with his emotions and bring himself back under control. In the months since Qui-Gon’s death, it had felt like control was sliding from his grasp, bit by slow bit. He wasn’t fit to be a Knight, much less a master to anyone else. And especially to Anakin, a bright yet vulnerable child, living in a strange place with so much power at his fingertips, waiting to be harnessed.

Obi-Wan hadn’t even made it to Selebaraan, yet already he felt a release from the strain of having to maintain a composed façade in front of young Anakin. He was pleased the boy was with Yoda. Everyone could use a little Yoda time now and then, and he would be interested to see what the Grand Master’s thoughts were when he returned. Anakin was by no means average or a normal Jedi youngling in any way, and Obi-Wan had been in no way prepared to take a Padawan, so he would welcome any advice from Yoda.

He entered the atmosphere and the mere sight of the forests and lakes from above gave him an immediate sense of the Living Force. It was indeed strong there, for whatever reason. As he landed, he wondered idly if Qui-Gon had ever visited the planet. That man could meditate anywhere, anytime, so strong was his connection to the Force, but he would have loved it among the trees and water.

Obi-Wan acquired a site number from the attendants and took a hoverskiff across a mist-shrouded lake toward the location of his retreat. Despite the peacefulness of the setting, his strained soul couldn’t help see the surrounding mountains and mist as threatening. They hid too much. He struggled to clear his mind of doubt and fear. This place was safe. Anything that said otherwise was emanating not from the Force, but from his own troubled mind.

The retreat houses were meant for one Jedi, small but comfortable buildings shrouded by trees whose leaves whispered in the breeze. Food and supplies were available at the push of a button, if desired, or the occupant had the choice to be a bit more self-sufficient if that was what was needed. Decoration was sparse, but soothingly simple. Whitewashed ferrocrete walls, utilitarian fixtures, with warm handmade linens and rugs. The light inside was filtered and never too bright. Hanging lamps with brown and green glass shades would give a subdued glow after dark. Obi-Wan unpacked his small bag of belongings quickly, bathed, and padded in bare feet to the dining table garbed in the longer, loose Jedi tunics designed for relaxation and meditation rather than sparring or fighting.

The silence around him was crushing. He heard leaves outside, insects, occasional birdsong, but nothing more. So different from Coruscant where the everpresent din of humanity was only drowned out by the equally ubiquitous low level hum of technology. To a Force-user, there was no blocking out the vast number of people surrounding you at all times. It was different here. A different kind of Force. Something much more massive, less splintered, arose from the steady constant of natural growth. It took some adjustment.

Where should he start? Part of him just wanted to lie down and sleep for the entire week. To pass the time in oblivion, in the places where his master wasn’t dead. Where he hadn’t killed the Sith Lord—a feat that had given him a kind of weird celebrity among the Jedi. It tends to raise one’s profile when you defeat an enemy who’s been absent for a thousand years. Except that his Sith Lord hadn’t stayed dead.

Reluctantly, knowing it was useless to put it off any further, he put the box in front of him.

The box that he knew, without a shadow of doubt, had come from the very Sith Lord he’d sliced in two on Naboo. 

Only the box had arrived merely a few weeks ago. Months after his triumph over the Sith who was supposed to be dead.

He’d debated on whether he should bring it or not, but since its strange pull was the source of his current distress, it was here. He opened it again. Looked at his friend Sivrelle’s necklace and light saber again. Looked at the note again. He held against his lips the blue Artonian stone necklace he’d given the Jedi Healer and closed his eyes. The stone felt warm. Impressions from the Force flooded through him. How she’d felt when she’d received it. Then, more intensely, images… images that must have been from her last days. A stark hallway vanishing into darkness. A training room with light saber scorches on the walls. A med-lab filled with blood. And him.

And then, a set of feelings and memories that startled him so much he dropped the stone and launched himself out of his seat.

He’d expected fear.

But that wasn’t what he felt at all.

What he’d  felt was the smooth hardness of the Sith Lord’s tattooed torso. He saw his eyes close in the throes of sexual passion… a strange gold and black pattern of energy seemed to spiral out around him and Obi-Wan felt a powerful surge of lust rip through his body.

Breath catching in his throat, confused, he tried to figure out where that had come from. He felt sick to his stomach. Was that enough for today? Could he rest now? He hadn’t meant to jump into this. He needed rest and restoration, not this churning emotion… but he closed his eyes and reached for his connection to the Force. No. There was more he had to see.

He found the stone where he had dropped it and gathered the other items. Might as well do this right.

The main part of the house was a meditation space, the center of which arched in dome shape to a skylight that could be opened on temperate days such as this one. Fecund scents from the surrounding forest drifted in. Obi-Wan felt no need to light the brazier in the center. He would use the oculus above as his focal point if he needed one. The floor, covered in layered, patterned rugs in dark, earthy hues, made nice contrast to the smooth, blank, curving ferrocrete walls. Around the edges of the room were cushioned banquettes with a few padded hassocks scattered about. He sat comfortably in the center of the room and took up Sivrelle’s light saber.

Taking three calming breaths, he opened his mind to the Force.

Yes. This was more what he had expected.

He felt the familiar, heavy clash of the red double-bladed light saber against Sivrelle’s smaller, lighter weapon. A wash of sadness passed over him. She was never intended to have had to use it. The healers were Force-users, trained as Jedi, but not Jedi Knights, not warriors. Their blue robes set them apart from the Knights, their light sabers were symbolic; tools to use, but rarely used as weapons.

In addition to Sivrelle’s presence, as he touched the hilt of her saber, he felt him. He had wielded this weapon as well. What had gone on there? In the place where she’d been taken… where she’d been killed. The Force answered his question and the impressions popped into focus as a vision, silent as though seen from behind a glass partition. He saw them both, fighting. He saw the Sith Lord pause momentarily and hold out his hand in entreaty and Sivrelle refuse. Then, the fatal blow, directly to her chest. He felt pain, but looked again… 

“She stepped into it,” he said to himself, the pain inside him now not a physical one. The sadness again. He labeled his emotions as Jedi were taught to do, releasing them into the Force. It was not easy. It had not been easy since Qui-Gon had died.

He let the vision continue.

And now he felt shock. Instead of crumpling to the ground, Sivrelle appeared to vanish. Just… disappear. The Sith Lord clutched empty robes in frustration, but also with something else… something that looked like tenderness.

Obi-Wan shook his head and stood up. He was muddled. He was misunderstanding the Force. Tenderness. From that monster? Impossible.

He cleared his mind again. Or tried to. He labored to smooth away the emotions. To feel the Living Force. He listened to the susurration of leaves overhead. Sank his center into the floor, into the ground beneath, stretched his awareness to the roots of the trees crisscrossing below him, then further away, to the water of forest streams, running with them out to the lake he had crossed that morning, up into the sky, outward across the stars. As he grew calmer, he regained control. He asked the Force for the vision again.

It was the same.

He put aside the light saber. He would return to that vision later. Perhaps a few days rest would clear aside the wrongness of it.

Next he held the box.

It was slick, featureless, utilitarian. The synth foam inside had been molded for the specific purpose of delivering Sivrelle’s items to him. There was no path to follow there. It was one of a million such boxes. Fashioned on Coruscant, purchased anonymously.

Lastly, he took up the note. An enscribed note, which was strange in and of itself. He ran his fingertips over the writing, feeling the faint impression of the ink stylus that had been used. The letters were blocky… harsh, like their creator. Not without elegance, but without flourish.

She died well, a Jedi to the last.

For the first time, he was calm enough to look past the anguish the words had caused him to think about what the true purpose of the delivery was. Why had the Sith Lord sent him the box in the first place? To hurt him, was the simple answer. But, the words were also oddly reassuring. A Jedi to the last. Had the Sith tried to turn her? He had failed, clearly, but there was no reason why he should have wanted to tell Obi-Wan that. The box’s contents without the note would have indicated she was dead. The note… that was strange. Out of character? He let it rest in his hands and sought a deeper connection to the Force. Honor. That was the word that sprang to his mind. The Sith appeared to have a sort of code of honor, and Sivrelle had done something that had required him to acknowledge her… what was it? Bravery? Sacrifice? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there again there was the odd tenderness he thought he’d seen on the demon’s face as he held Sivrelle’s robes.

He thought of Sivrelle and smiled. If anyone could make a Sith Lord care, he supposed it would be her. She had an unrelenting sort of kindness that touched everyone around her. She’d nursed him through the worst of times after Qui-Gon had died. Giving everything of herself to reach him and restore him to the Force. But he had not expected that kindness would have affected a Sith Lord. And he did not think Sivrelle was strong enough in the body or in the Force to stand up to a warrior such as he was. She had her own strengths, but… she was not fierce in that way. He had fought the Sith Lord. He knew—or thought he knew—his temperament. His power. He felt that Sivrelle would not have been able to withstand that.

So sure are you, you know the strengths of others?

He heard one of Yoda’s lessons in his mind. It was true. One never knew how oneself would react in a crisis, much less others. And then again, his mind was trained to respond to things in a certain way, Sivrelle’s in a different way. Perhaps her approach to the Sith Lord had not required the same kinds of strengths he imagined.

He concentrated on the note again, reaching into the Force for guidance. The impressions came to him. He felt again that unexpected sense of according someone their due honor, but underlying that a rage, an anger like a rising flood… a lust for revenge, a frustration for opportunities not yet granted. All of it was forbidden to a Jedi, or discouraged. All of it was a direct conduit to the dark side of the Force. Even tasting it on the note was abhorrent to Obi-Wan. He dropped the paper and cleansed his mind. Not wanting to touch them again, he used the Force to replace all of the items in the box and left it sitting on the floor. He would lock it away somewhere later.

Again he centered himself, grounded himself and sent his senses wide. Could he find the Sith Lord this way? Could he feel him, out there? He felt what he imagined to be the ghost of him, the unmistakable flavor of the Sith Lord’s Force signature. Like the shriek of metal scraping metal, sparks flying. Like an inferno raging behind a closed door, seeking to explode, escape and spread fire across the galaxy. The sense of him felt near, immediate, as if he was around the next corner, behind the next door. He calmed his mind again. He was imagining things. But if he could find him, should he seek him out? He shouldn’t want to. As a Jedi, he shouldn’t seek revenge. But what if it wasn’t revenge?

He had killed that man.

How was it possible then, that he existed to continue hurting the people that Obi-Wan cared about? He was not supposed to have attachments, but it was his master, after all. Sivrelle was a friend, and an innocent. A healer. It was not right. No. It was not a need for revenge he felt. But… he could not, would not, let the Sith Lord hurt anyone else. Was it not his duty as a Jedi Knight to protect others from harm? From evil? But to pursue him, he would need the blessing of the Council. They would probably point out, rightly, that he had—or should have—other priorities.

He roused himself from his trance, stood up and felt the Force flowing through him, erasing kinks and knots, reviving his muscles, giving him strength. He felt better already, here. It was true the Living Force was easily accessed among these growing, thriving, flowing things. He hardly even had to try to see it, so clear its presence was. It was like a benediction, a lover’s whisper telling him all would be well. He would rest now, and spend more time in meditation and practice tomorrow.

—

Maul was in complete disobedience of his master. He should not be out here. He should not be on this planet, stalking Kenobi. He had not been ordered to be there. He had not been forbidden to follow the Jedi, but he had not been ordered to do so. He knew once he landed, that his master would not be able to reach him for a week and when he returned to Coruscant there would be hell to pay. His master would punish him, but he didn’t care.

The need to confront Kenobi had been consuming him since he’d killed the healer. He refused to call her by name anymore. She was dead and gone. He shouldn’t even think of her at all, but he’d been tearing up the training room for weeks, trying to “fight her out” of his head and she was still lodged in his brain somehow. 

When he’d heard that Kenobi was leaving the planet, he’d not waited for permission, but had simply left. And here he was. For two days now, he’d seen Kenobi meditate, and push his body to the limits of endurance, running, swimming, drilling with his light saber. He returned again and again to the box that Maul had sent with the healer’s effects. He seemed especially disturbed by the note. Maul laughed. The note. He regretted that note. He shouldn’t have sent any of it, he supposed. But the note… it was unnecessary and weak. Then again, if Kenobi was unsettled by it all, it was worth it in the end. He would give him one more day. Then, he would begin the process that would bring him true revenge.

—

Obi-Wan woke with a start in the hazy pre-dawn of Selebaraan, with a sudden awareness of danger, the psychic stench of the Sith Lord’s Force signature filling his senses. In less than seconds he was out of bed, light saber at hand in the dim light. Without waiting to dress, he padded into the meditation space in his underclothes and opened his mind wide to the Force. It was impossible that the Sith Lord should be there. The planet was cut off due to the storms. Still, the Force reassured him… he was not dreaming this time. The chill breeze from the open oculus rose goosebumps on his bare skin.

He ignited his saber and stood waiting.

A shadow split off from the larger darkness and strode to the center of the room.

“You,” Obi-Wan said.

“Me,” the Sith Lord replied, his voice low and velvety smooth, just as strange as it had been when it had haunted Obi-Wan in dreams… an unexpectedly cultured contrast to the warrior’s vicious exterior appearance.

“I killed you.” Obi-Wan waited for the double snap-hiss of the demon’s light saber. 

It never came. 

“Aren’t you going to fight me?” he asked, hating the way his voice sounded young and uncertain even to his own ears.

The Sith put out empty hands in reply. “I have not come to kill you. I am unarmed.”

“And I am to take the word of a Sith?”

“It is true you have no reason to trust me, Kenobi.”

He could not help cringing, hearing his name on the Sith’s lips. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage. Your name?”

The mouth opened again and the world came out as a snarl, “Maul.”

“Maul,” he repeated. Odd relief spread over him like a warm breeze. He finally had a name to put to that awful face. He circled the Sith, who still stood quietly. “Who do you have with you? I find it hard to believe that you came here without intent to harm.”

Maul laughed unpleasantly. “I never said I meant you no harm. I said I wasn’t here to kill you.”

“I should kill you, perhaps, while I have the opportunity. You have taken the lives of two whom I hold close.”

“And you took mine,” said Maul fiercely. “I would say that makes us even.”

“Hardly,” he replied, raising his light saber. His voice dropped to a low hiss. “I believe I still owe you one… and, by the Force… here you are.” He felt his control slipping. His words sounded far more threatening than his Jedi training would prefer. 

The horns on the Sith’s head glistened in the blue glow of Obi-Wan’s light saber. “I promise you, I am unarmed. Your Jedi code forbids you from killing an unarmed person.”

“The code is meant to protect those who are helpless. A Force-user is never helpless. And you’ll find that even Jedi don’t always follow the rules.”

Maul stiffened, but remained standing calmly in the room. The man was certainly well-trained.

“Let’s start by proving you have no weapons on you. Strip,” said Obi-Wan.

Maul nodded in assent, as though he agreed with Obi-Wan’s move. He pulled off his gloves and unhooked his belt, beginning the process of removing his many layers of tunics. When he finally stood wearing only a thin strip of underclothes, Obi-Wan levitated the pile of his clothing out of reach. He deactivated his light saber and they stood face to face in the growing morning light. 

“If you’re not here to kill me, what is your purpose?” he said.

“For the moment, I merely wanted to…” he paused as though it was difficult for him to admit what he was about to say. “I want to talk to you.”

Obi-Wan met the yellow eyes of the Sith Lord. He was having difficulty coming to terms with the man as a civilized, speaking being. For so long he had merely been a warrior, a spinning whirl of potential death. A mute murderer. And theoretically a dead one.

His eyes shot down to the tattooed waist of the man in front of him. Unable to help it, he stretched out his empty left hand and skimmed it over the surprisingly smooth and warm skin, searching for a scar, something, some sign of the fact that he’d cut him in half not many moons ago.

Maul sucked in a breath at his touch, yet continued to remain motionless. 

Obi-Wan found nothing. Not a mar on the skin other than the tattoos that covered him as thoroughly as if he’d been dipped bodily in paint.

He locked eyes with the killer in front of him again and stepped back, breaking their contact. The Force felt jangled and conflicted at the meeting of light and dark.

“I sliced you in half!” he said in disbelief.

“Yes and no,” said the Sith, and Obi-Wan had a brief but clear vision of Maul awakening with a gasp of agony in a pod of some kind. The pod opening and him stepping out. Behind him many more pods stood ready… silent, waiting.

“Clones?”

Maul nodded. “My Master has a legion of me at the ready.”

“But you remember everything?”

“Yes, we are activated one at a time, the memories of one moving to the next upon death.”

“How many times have you been killed, then?”

“Twice. Once when I was younger and not as well-trained. And you.” The last two words came out as a growl.

“Why one at a time? Why not use the whole lot of you at once?”

The face split in that predator’s version of a smile. “Sith have a code, too.“

Obi-Wan was unsure of how to proceed. He was cut off there for five more days. He would be putting the few inhabitants of the planet in danger should he seek help from them, and in any case, they would be little aid to him. With the storms in full swing, he could not reach anyone else. He was not sure if any other Jedi were on the planet at that time, but he thought he was alone.

Despite the Sith’s lack of weaponry, he wondered if he could hold Maul at bay long enough to tie him up. He looked at the powerful physique displayed in front of him, felt the crackle of the dark Force energy surrounding him and doubted it would be easy if Maul did not want to be restrained. 

As if reading his mind, which, he supposed, was quite possible, Maul said, his fists clenching, “Try it. I could use a good fight.”

It was clear he had little choice but to trust the man long enough to get off the planet alive and whole. 

“Well then, Maul, it seems you are my guest for the week,” he finally said graciously. “Have you eaten?”

He stepped away and deliberately turned his back on the Sith, heading toward the pile of discarded black garments. Still mindful of every twitch behind him, he waited for an attack. None came.

He separated the clothing and threw pants and a tunic to the man and took the rest of it with him. “Put those on, when we’re dressed, I’ll fix us tea.”

Obi-Wan returned to his sleeping chamber. The urge to let his guard down was overwhelming, but just being out of the physical presence of the Sith Lord meant nothing. He gathered his shields tightly around him. He must watch every move. He must guard his every thought. What he had said before was true, no Force-user was ever helpless, and least of all that monster in the other room.

Dressed, but barefoot, to match his guest, he entered the kitchen area to find Maul already setting a kettle on the cooker. It caught him off guard and he laughed inwardly at the incongruity of the tattooed warrior doing something so simple and domestic. What would Master Yoda make of him having chanava tea with the enemy? The morning was nothing short of bizarre.

They sat down at the dining table, their cups steaming in front of them. “It seems we are at an impasse,” said Obi-Wan, still trying to wrap his head around this scene.

Maul took a sip of tea and nodded. 

“Five days until we can get out of here. Did you intend to spend all of it with me?”

Again, the slow nod.

“How will we sleep? My trust, and yours, must only extend so far.”

“I will not kill you in your sleep.”

 “That’s very reassuring,” he said dryly. 

“I give you my word.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “What is the word of a Sith Lord worth?”

Now Maul became visibly angry, his yellow eyes sparking, “Do not push me, Jedi. We may be opposed to each other, but our disciplines are not so very different. I told you, we have a code. I live by it. My life is dedicated to it. Don’t question that.”

Obi-Wan raised his hands in apology. “You wanted to talk.”

—

Maul hesitated. Hesitation irritated him. He looked at the man who’d killed him and now sat calm as you please across the table. He realized he’d behaved in an unusually rash way, uncommon for him, who preferred a well-crafted plan. He focused on the irritation and opened his mind to the Force, skimming the possibilities. They still pointed the same direction. He was not comfortable with this course of action, but, resigned, he spoke, “It has to do with her, the healer.”

Kenobi sat up straighter in his chair. “Sivrelle?”

Maul nodded. “She… did something to me, before she died.”

 “Died?” the Jedi scoffed. “You mean before you murdered her.”

“Call it what you will. I killed her, yes. I admit that. You knew it to be true. It’s why you are here isn’t it?“ He felt the need to bait the other man.

“I still don’t know why you did it. Or how.”

Maul laughed. “You want to know how she died?”

“I saw a vision, but it made no sense.”

“Force visions. . . so unreliable. But you don’t have to worry, I’ll tell you how she died. I tortured her for days. I made her life so miserable she wanted to die. She told me so. She begged me to, on more than one occasion. It was… delightful. Her despair was a veritable feast. As was her passion.” He paused. Wrong word. That was the wrong word to provoke Kenobi. Flicking his eyes back to the Jedi, he tried again, “Her… body.”

Kenobi was out of his seat. “You monster,” said Obi-Wan, grasping a handful of Maul’s tunic. “You dared rape a healer?”

Maul smiled. “Who said anything about rape?”

The Jedi lifted him out of his seat by the tunic but then Force pushed him up against a wall and held him there. “Sivrelle would never…”

“Sivrelle did,” Maul remained calm. This was really all too easy. “She came to me willingly. She enjoyed it.”

“You lie.”

“You need to see it for yourself?” He projected a vision of the two of them together, augmented with a little sexual energy, to Kenobi. And was gratified by a surge of rage from the other man. A part of him, though, felt sick at using those memories in this way… to manipulate. It had been something simple and… pure in its own way. He hated to sully it.

He shoved those thoughts away and waited, watching to see what would happen next. It was perfectly obvious when Kenobi regained control over himself. Maul sighed. He had more work to do, but… it was now clear there were significant cracks in the Jedi’s armor.

“Force visions are notoriously unreliable, as you mentioned,” Kenobi said, calm and collected once again. He eased off his hold on Maul.

This time, Maul didn’t hesitate. He quickly turned the tables on the Jedi and Forced him up against the opposite wall, striding over to him. “Believe what you will, but I speak the truth. She wanted me. She came to me. While we were together, I quite literally chased visions of you out of her mind. You were lovers, weren’t you?”

“Jedi relationships come and go,” said Kenobi straining against the Force hold Maul had on him.

“You can admit it, I’ve already seen it.”

“We were friends. For a time, we were intimate.”

“She loved you,” he said with contempt.

Kenobi met his eyes and then looked down. “Jedi are not supposed to love, or rather, love is everything, but we are forbidden attachment.”

So her love was not returned, Maul thought. Not, perhaps, in the way she hoped. But then, he supposed she had known that. She gave of herself simply because it was her nature. He had his answer, using the healer wouldn’t push Kenobi over the edge.

The Jedi continued, “But I wouldn’t expect a Sith to care about love.”

“I don’t,” Maul hissed and released him. “I care about advantage. The Jedi are correct to stay away from attachments, they give others too much power over you.”

They stood staring at each other, tense. “So what was it she did to you? It must be difficult for you to admit that a paltry healer could do anything to hurt the mighty Sith Lord.”

Narrowing his eyes, Maul searched the other man’s face. Did Kenobi really believe the woman was weak in any way? “She healed me.”

The Jedi sighed, smiled, and stood down, breaking the standoff. He sat heavily in one of the chairs again. “I see. You didn’t know about the… side effects?”

Maul sat, too. He shook his head.

“It takes some getting used to, having them in your heads. But Sivrelle is… was one of the best. I take it she… saw something. Something you didn’t like her seeing. Is that why you killed her?”

Maul leaned his elbows on his knees and interlaced his fingers. “You don’t understand what it is to be a Sith. You Jedi have autonomy. I do not. I follow my Master’s commands without question. He wanted her dead. That is why she is dead. It has nothing whatsoever to do with me, other than the fact that I carried out the sentence.”

“We are taught that all beings have choice.”

“I made my choice when I became Sith. That is inalterable.”

“But what Sivrelle did, or saw, rather… it is something that gives you, what… pain? Fear?”

Maul scoffed. “Fear? No. And it isn’t exactly what she saw. It’s that she saw it at all.” She saw something that shouldn’t be there… can’t be there. If it was true, then everything he believed in was shattered.

“What, did she see some shred of good in you?” Kenobi said with a derisive laugh.

Maul looked at him, surprised both that he had guessed the truth, and at his cruel tone. In his countenance though, he read pity.

The Jedi continued, “Don’t worry. Sivrelle was an optimist, you know. Sometimes I think she saw what she wanted to see. She was one of the few truly good people I’ve ever known.”

He had a sudden urge to pummel the Jedi’s boyish face, and told him, “The reason she healed me was because I forced her to duel with me. I made her angry. She was able to cut me because she summoned the dark side. It was quite splendid to behold.”

A desperate look entered Kenobi’s eyes. “That doesn’t sound like the Sivrelle I knew. None of this.” Ah, now the scoffing tone was gone.

Maul nodded. But he mildly enjoyed that desperate look. There was more he could add. Things that would make the Jedi feel better about the healer’s final days. Like the fact that she’d felt so dirty having used the dark side that she insisted upon healing him. That the reason she’d become angry enough to use the dark side, was that he’d threatened Kenobi himself. That she’d seen the light in Maul. She’d seen the light and made him see it. Her trust, her belief… when she’d touched him, he could feel it. It was thoughts like these that made the madness encroach. Who he was—Sith, powerful, ruthless—he’d worked hard for that. He could never turn back, he was too far gone. But, the light had been… beautiful. There was a part of him that wanted to see it again. It was that part that he needed to root out.

Maul stood up abruptly and walked across the room to an open doorway that lead to the forest outside. “What kind of exercises do you Jedi do?”

—

Obi-Wan was exhausted. Some retreat this was, he laughed as he let the steaming water from the shower flow over his aching body. After the war of words they had exchanged that morning, he and the Sith Lord had gone to the woods. They’d run. Like a Force-forsaken pair of matched steeds, they’d kept up stride for stride perfectly for miles. Neither tiring, neither breaking the smooth pace they’d set for hours, even across the rough forest floor. They’d climbed a low mountain and were rewarded with a view of the lake and the valley below, as well as glimmers of the storms in the atmosphere above.

“The galaxy never ceases to amaze me in its endless variety of beauty,” he’d said, caught up in the moment.

Maul had stared out, saying nothing. 

“Is recognizing beauty forbidden to the Sith?” Obi-Wan asked. “Or are you so steeped in darkness that you cannot even see it?”

The Sith looked over his shoulder at him and smiled. “I have been so many places in the galaxy, seen so many things… but I have always been alone. I can see beauty. I am just not used to commenting on it.”

There was a strange, wistful loneliness in his voice. Unexpected, like so much else about this Sith Lord. It made Obi-Wan curious to know more. Where had he come from? How had he been trained? Supposedly there were “only two” of the Sith at a time, but that had never made any sense to him. 

“Between the time we fought and now, I have read everything I could find in the archives about the Sith and I do not understand. Why limit yourselves to two? How can so few effect change in the wide galaxy?”

Maul turned away from the view, and Obi-Wan passed him the water bottle from which he had been drinking. “It requires careful planning. A slow, thoughtful process.”

“But… to be frank, when I fought you, you seemed to be all action. You were what I expected from a Sith, from someone dedicated to embracing emotion. You felt like you were all wild energy. Well-trained, for certain, but I didn’t sense the capability for slow and thoughtful.”

Laughing, the Sith crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “I am but the apprentice, of course.”

“Your master is different?”

“It is difficult to explain if you are not experienced in wielding the dark side. To be Sith, to coax the greatest power from the dark side, one must connect with one’s emotions to the fullest. The dark side feeds on anger, fear, lust and the benefits of feeding it those energies are vast. It is quick to respond, faster than your light side, easier, more explosive. But as you Jedi are fond of preaching, these emotions can also lead one to make poor decisions. So, one must simultaneously stoke those emotions, but also maintain control over them. Controlled rage, controlled lust, these are the pathways to the greatest gains.”

“But, would not it be better to have more of you?”

“The limitations of two requires that the master must have achieved this type of control. To become the master, the apprentice must become a cunning planner… he must be able to strike down his master, to defeat him, to take the power for himself. No one bestows it upon him. He must see several steps ahead. But training an apprentice gives the master a warrior, like me, who contains the wilder energy of the Force. It’s a counterbalance. I must first see the destructive force of the dark side, and learn to harness it.

“And do you feel ready to strike down your master?”

“No,” Maul said reluctantly, but definitively. “You don’t know him. He is cold with his ability to control his emotions. He has been planning and maneuvering for years, and as far as I can tell, his plan requires many more years of waiting and planning before it will come to fruition.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Patience seems counter to anger and lust.” 

“That is why it works. You have to have both things. The ability to let loose your emotions when you need to, but reign them in when you must. For the greater plan.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Do you have anything that relates to this?”

“No. Not exactly. To protect the people, as we are sworn to do, one must understand the emotions that drive them, so it is not that feeling emotion is forbidden. But Jedi are brought to the order so young. I don’t remember a life before being a Jedi. I don’t remember a time when I was allowed to let emotions run free. Control. Calm. These are the things we strive for. Being subservient to the goals of the order, to the Council, it is as much a part of who I am as the color of my eyes. But, I only became a Knight when I defeated you.”

Maul’s face split into a smile again and he shook his head. “You see that I am not ready, I was defeated by a mere Padawan.” 

It was said almost as a joke, but Obi-Wan could sense the simmering emotion behind it. “You hate me,” he said simply.

Maul nodded. “You have no idea. How could you? You have never been killed. For months now, I have been honing my rage on the whetstone of you.”

“Yet you came here without intent to kill me?”

“I always have intent to kill you. But I am trying to learn patience.” 

“If I could hate, I would probably hate you,” replied Obi-Wan, looking out again at the spectacular view. Clouds were rolling in from the west, shifting and changing the light on the lake below. “You killed my Master, after all.”

“It is a credit to your training then, if you don’t.”

“I would not honor Qui-Gon’s memory if I turned my back on what he was.”

“Perhaps,” said Maul. He pointed a finger at Obi-Wan. “But admit it, it was your anger at me for killing him that allowed you to slay me.”

Obi-Wan thought about it and found it was true… in part. In the moments following Qui-Gon’s fatal blow he’d been blinded by an anguish that was so consuming he could hardly see when he went to engage Maul. It was that emotional attack that allowed him to cut Maul’s light saber in two. But, when it came down to it, when he was dangling in the pit, it was the calm, rational submission to the will of the Force that allowed him to find Qui-Gon’s light saber and to slice Maul’s mid-section. 

“Not entirely.”

“But it played a part.”

“Certainly.”

“Have you used it since then? The dark side?”

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“I want you to get a good taste of it.”

“I don’t think so.”

Maul laughed. “Never fear. You don’t have to wield it yourself, Jedi. You have a test subject like no other. I will use the dark side. If you open yourself up to me, then you will see its power. We can study each other. The differences. Who else has had this kind of opportunity?”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at Maul. What kind of game was he playing? If it was true, that Sith gained power by planning carefully, then this move must be a part of a plan. But it was also true that he would never have another opportunity to study the Sith like this. No one living ever had. It was knowledge that would be of use to the Temple.

“Is this how you seduced Sivrelle? By pretending to be a rational being?” he asked.

Maul laughed. “No, I seduced Sivrelle in different ways. I seduced her by reminding her that she was strong. That she was powerful.”

“But everyone always knew that.”

“She didn’t. I saw it in her thoughts. She felt she wasn’t good enough for you ‘defenders of peace and justice.’ She thought that everyone just dismissed her as… how did she put it? ‘Good, calm Sivrelle.’”

Obi-Wan put his head in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose between steepled forefingers. There was little that Maul could have told him that could have hurt him more. The sadness was overwhelming. How enormously he had let his friend down. He had been so consumed by his own grief and uncertainty that he had not recognized her needs, nor honored her achievements. The Artonian stone had been an attempt to express his gratitude toward her healing gifts, but… had he ever told her how much she had helped him?

“But the very same strength prevented her from turning in the end, didn’t it?” he said.

“Yes,” Maul said grimly. 

“Even though she died, she beat you. And it bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hate her?”

“No. I admire her immensely. But I also think she was a fool. She was strong. And true to her ideals. But had she been stronger in some ways, and weaker in others, she would not be dead. And for that I cannot forgive her.”

With that, Maul turned on his heel and began making his way back down the mountain, in the direction of the hut. Obi-Wan followed. When the path grew more level by unspoken signal they began to run, and Obi-Wan welcomed the pounding rhythm of their stride, emptying out his mind and clearing the negativity from his blood. 

The shower was meant to refresh him. But he found himself dwelling on Sivrelle, and what she had done with the Sith Lord. After spending the day with him in a strange sort of camaraderie, he could understand better how she could have… been with him. He was, in his own way, charming, although it seemed ridiculous to use that word to describe him. Seductive was a better one. He suddenly remembered the vision that Maul had showed him of the two of them locked in a sexual embrace. He felt his own body stir, but tamped down the emotion. He was confused enough already.

He shut off the shower and stepped out. Dressing, he tried to formulate a better idea of what to do. So far, he’d been reactive to Maul, but he doubted that would serve him through the rest of the week. He thought about what Maul had said about Sivrelle “seeing something” and wondered if he could get him to talk more about that. Sowing the seeds of doubt in his mind might be the key to undermining the Sith’s training. If he could get him to reveal the identity of his master, it could be a great help to the Jedi Council, to the very security of the Republic. 

Clothed again in the loose Jedi tunics of meditation, but with his light saber clipped to his belt, Obi-Wan went to face Maul once again. He found him in the meditation area, sitting quietly, stripped to the waist, wiping away sweat from their run with his tunic. He tossed him a spare set of the same type of Jedi clothes. “If you want to clean up, I can have your garments laundered and ready for tomorrow.”

The Sith nodded curtly and disappeared into the bathing chamber. When he heard the shower start, Obi-Wan found the discarded black clothes outside the chamber and placed them with his own in the laundering compacter. Again he had to laugh about the absurdity of doing domestic chores in the company of the Sith. He set about fixing them food. 

He was ill-prepared for the existential vertigo of seeing the Sith Lord dressed in Jedi clothing and experienced a momentary dizziness when he appeared in the kitchen wearing Obi-Wan’s browns. 

“Your clothes are comfortable, but it is rather strange, isn’t it?” Maul said, clearly noting his shock. He must learn better to disguise his feelings and protect his mind if he were to survive this experience. 

—

Maul had stared at himself for a long time in the mirror before he’d gone to the kitchen. It was truly bizarre to see himself in Jedi uniform. With the backdrop of his black clothing, his tattoos seemed menacing, but with these, they looked garish and incongruous. He could barely remember what color his skin was originally. 

He and the Jedi ate without speaking much. He could tell Kenobi had questions, but was holding back. When the meal was finished and the plates cleared, the two of them sat across from each other in the meditation area, where a small fire burned in the brazier and gave off a mild, aromatic smoke. Obi-Wan leaned against a padded hassock, but Maul, unused to much softness, sat cross-legged and upright on the ornately patterned rug. He closed his eyes. 

Behind them he could see the Force-signature of the Jedi across from him. He was younger than he had thought originally. As young as Maul, but even he could see that he had matured quite a bit in the months since their ill-fated duel. He played a game noting the differences in his mind’s eye. Although Maul spent a great deal of time alone, he also spent a great deal of time meditating about people, their motivations, what drove them, what held them back. It was a way to pass the time. To learn patience. To learn how to manipulate people, one must understand them well. Maul watched a great deal.

The Padawan braid was gone, and though Obi-Wan’s hair was still short, it was not as bristly. He clearly hadn’t shaved since he’d arrived on the planet and his reddish beard was growing in, which added years to his face. The main difference was in the eyes though. He’d had a long time to study his memory of the last time he’d met those eyes, right before Kenobi had sliced him in two. To him, they now held a new pain and sadness, obviously a result of losing his master, but there was also a great caution. When he’d become a Knight, he’d shed the rashness of youth. What was left was a man growing into his strengths. If he made the right choices, Maul thought he would be a great Jedi. A leader of men. 

“Out with it, Jedi. I can feel your curiosity burning from over here. Your shielding is really most pathetic.”

The Jedi laughed. “Qui-Gon always told me I should be more careful. I have been working on it.”

“You should work harder, apparently. What do you want to know about me?” Maul said, opening his eyes.

Kenobi shifted into a cross-legged position that mirrored his own. He leaned slightly forward and spoke, “Where do you come from? Where you ever at the Jedi Academy? Is Maul your real name?”

Maul wondered if he should answer truthfully. But then, why not. He felt reckless already. “Maul was the name given to me by my master. My true title is Darth Maul, the Sith honorary for ‘Lord.’ I was never anywhere near the Jedi. I am not exactly sure where I was born, but I was never identified by the Jedi.”

“Not exactly sure?”

“My memories of the times before being Sith are hazy. I think I was around eight or so, I was powerful in the Force but used it for… gambling, thieving… parlor tricks. I don’t remember having a mother or father. I was on my own, on the streets of… wherever I was.”

“Do you think your memories were tampered with?” Obi-Wan said, stroking the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.

“Being Sith is all I’ve ever really known. At what age did you go to the Temple?”

“I was little more than an infant. I, too, have never known anything but the Jedi way.”

Maul laughed sharply. “It seems neither of us has ever really had a choice.”

They sat silent for a moment, then Kenobi stood up. “We should rest. I think I would be most comfortable if you slept in there,” he said, pointing to the sleeping chamber. “Though I suppose it would be pointless to lock the door.”

Maul just smiled. As he settled down for sleep he heard Kenobi stretch out in front of the door to the room, presumably imagining he would be woken if Maul got up in the night. He nodded approvingly. At least the Jedi was no fool.

He slept as peaceful a sleep as he had had in years. He only ever rested that well when he was far away from his master’s influence. He knew he had nothing to fear from Kenobi while he slumbered, after all. Awake… now that was a different story. It was his mission to drive the Jedi to try to harm him, after all. And here was a new day to renew his efforts. He stretched and climbed out of the bed, the Jedi clothes he wore again giving him a weird shock in the mirror. He made his way to the main chamber and found Kenobi already up and sitting in meditation, two mugs set out for tea in the kitchen and a meal under covers on the table. 

The Jedi’s eyes opened immediately and he stood. “Oh, good, you’re up. I was getting hungry.” He crossed swiftly to the kitchen and poured tea in the cups, his movements sure and firm with decisiveness. “Sit.” 

Maul pulled out a chair and sat down. He was wary of the Jedi’s cheerful demeanor. “What are you up to?”

Kenobi laughed and placed tea next to the food in front of him. “I’m trying to be a good host.” He sat down also. “What is your home like? How do your days usually go?”

“There is no ‘usual’ to my days,” Maul said. He opened the platter and began to eat in his customarily efficient way.

“I see. You spend your days performing an endless variety of evil errands or plotting how to rule the galaxy.”

Maul pointed his fork at him. “Do not mock me, Jedi.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Jedi. “I tend to fall back on humor when I’m uncomfortable. Did you sleep well?”

Kenobi had not yet opened his food, but sat sipping his tea. “Are you going to continue with this chatter, or take your sustenance?” Maul finally asked, pausing.

“Well, it seems we have several days in which to get to know each other. I thought we could be civil, at the very least.”

“Civil,” Maul said, marveling at the Jedi. “Is this what it is to be civil?”

“Yes,” said Kenobi with maddening calm. “I ask you how you are, you ask me how I am. We each say something nondescript like, ‘yes, I slept fine, thank you’ and then we can talk about things that are more important.”

“I slept fine, thank you,” Maul replied his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Splendid,” said Kenobi, and finally got down to looking at the food on his plate. “This smells delicious.”

“I do not have much practice in being ‘civil’ as you put it. I was trained to be a warrior and not much else.”

“Surely you are well-educated though. Your voice, your manner of speech, they sound refined.”

“I have studied… but I have not… spent much time with people. Look at me.”

Kenobi did look at him then, his clear blue-grey eyes taking in his appearance. It was a penetrating look. Jedi never seemed to look just at one’s surface. “Well, I’ve seen stranger, I suppose. The eyes are a bit daunting, I must admit.”

“You, on the other hand, appear to have had plenty of training in being civil, if you can entertain a Sith at your table without batting an eye.”

Kenobi smiled. “I have spent many years developing my skills at diplomacy, yes. It is part of being a Jedi. Negotiations. Often two opposing forces would rather not be in opposition, and merely need an excuse to stand down. We first seek a non-violent resolution to conflicts.”

“Then you get out your light saber.”

“Something like that,” Kenobi said and laughed lightly. Maul read his body language though… he was far from being as relaxed as his banter would indicate.

Maul ached to hold his light saber in his hands and make the Jedi pay for what he had done to him. It was more important, though, to make him suffer first. As Maul had suffered. Suffered from his own foolishness. His own overconfidence and lack of focus. The Jedi should never have been able to deliver that killing blow. He could blame him all he wanted, but it was his own arrogance that was truly to blame. The first step in correcting that was admitting it. The second was to rip out Kenobi’s soul and blot it from existence.

“I was completely serious about studying each other. It would be worth it to both of us, would it not?” he said, shoving his empty plate away from him. “Although, I am accustomed to drilling before breakfast, not after.”

“I thought you said you had no ‘usual’ days,” protested Kenobi with another chuckle.

“Breakfast is not ‘usual,’” added Maul dryly.

“I see,” said Obi-Wan. “Well, I am not opposed to such study, when you are ready.”

“My clothes?” Maul asked, hopeful, yet wondering himself if it would suit his purposes better to be wearing Jedi clothes or Sith.

“Pressed and ready,” said Kenobi cheerfully.

—

Truthfully, Obi-Wan wondered if it was a good idea to let the Sith back into his blacks. He was a great deal more menacing when “in uniform” and it brought back the duel on Naboo with such intensity and clarity that he felt he might weep, something he had been trying to get out of the habit of. Certainly he could not show weakness in front of the Sith Lord. 

He had meditated that morning after a simply terrible night of sleep. Trying to draw strength from the Force, he put the intention to it that the purpose of this truly insane experience would become clear, both from the standpoint of what Maul was trying to accomplish, and what Obi-Wan would learn from it.

These experiments the Sith was proposing made him trepidatious. It seemed a certainty that one shouldn’t deliberately fool around with the dark side, but… it was true that he could watch and perhaps achieve an understanding long denied the Jedi. 

While the Sith dressed and Obi-Wan finished his meal, he realized that until the man had walked into the room that morning, there had been a small part of him that believed this was all some sort of dream to help him sort through his feelings. He had been a mess these past few months, and it was absolutely necessary he get hold of his emotions before he ruined Anakin. He wanted to feel like he had put Qui-Gon’s death behind him, but in truth he hadn’t. He’d spent many hours in meditation trying to put it all aside, to let the feelings go. The grief… the guilt. It hadn’t worked. He’d hoped this quiet time would help put some of those things in perspective. Instead, he got Maul.

As if on cue, the Sith appeared from the bedchamber fully clothed in his Sith blacks. “Go dress,” he ordered.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan joked and then wished he hadn’t. Under a raised, tattooed eyebrow, Maul’s yellow eyes followed him menacingly as he passed by on the way to his room. He dressed, strapped on his boots and made his way back out into main house. He found the kitchen tidied and the door open. Following the trail, he stood and marveled at Maul in the clearing. He had found a long branch roughly the same size as his light saber and was practicing a series of rehearsed movements involving all of his muscles and skills, much like Jedi velocities.

When he finished, he did it again… faster. And then again, yet faster. Obi-Wan was considered a good swordsman, but Maul’s abilities were in a class of their own. He stretched out his awareness with the Force and felt Maul’s joy at the activity. It was an overwhelmingly intense emotion that blotted out everything else. He wondered if Maul did everything this way, with complete concentration and focus and intensity. Suddenly the Sith finished and rounded on him, his yellow eyes glowing and a snarl on his face. He was breathing hard, but barely. Obi-Wan watched him rein in his physical self, gain equilibrium, draw his unleashed emotions back in check.

“This is how I ‘usually’ wake up,” he said.

“Impressive,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“Do you have any preparatory exercises you need to do before we begin?”

“No, I already put in my meditation time this morning.”

“Good, then let us begin,” Maul said decisively. He gestured that they should both sit down near a sizable boulder in the clearing. “Shall we start by demonstrating our ability to levitate an object? I will open my shielding to you so that you may see how it works to use dark side energy.”

When they were both seated, Obi-Wan reached out with his sensitivity and found Maul’s mind open to him. He did not probe, but waited. Suddenly he felt the rage build into an explosion of energy, barely contained. With a sharp hand gesture, the boulder shot up in the air and smashed into a tree across the clearing.

Obi-Wan pondered what he had seen. Maul was powerful, but he knew that, and he had known many Jedi who were equally or more powerful. What was different was the way the power gathered and was expelled. It was fast, explosive and demanding. It was almost as if Maul clenched at the Force and shook it into submission.

Maul was watching him expectantly.

“Alright,” he said. He cautiously dropped his shields,  calmed himself, reached out to the Force. Effortlessly, as though grasping a cloud, he wrapped the boulder in the Force and beckoned it to return gently back to its original resting place.

“Intriguing,” Maul said. “And the Force never fails to answers such a mild request for you? I was taught that one had to make the Force submit to one’s will. Command it, not ask it for permission.”

“When one is disturbed, under duress, it is harder to communicate with the Force, and so we practice to subdue strong emotion, lest it interfere with the give and take.”

“Yet in my case, it is the strong emotions of anger, or fear, that facilitates the connection to the Force. It’s as though the Force is drawn to those emotions, and feeds off of them.”

“My master believed strongly in the Living Force as his guide. He believed we are all a part of the same Force, that is created by life, and in return nurtures it. He believed the dark side to be opposed to this Living Force. Some believe, rather, in the Unifying Force, which does not distinguish between a dark side or light side, but believes the Force is what connects us all, throughout time and space.” Obi-Wan had never been a teacher at the Academy, although he was now a Master to Anakin. He found that he spent a great deal more time and energy pondering these types of things. Especially since Anakin was filled with questions, still new to the ways of the Force in general.

He found himself stroking the stubble on his chin, lost in thought yet uncomfortably aware of the Sith Lord next to him. Perhaps he would keep this beard. “How do you do it,” he asked Maul suddenly. “How do you always have anger at the ready?”

“Perhaps if you saw my life, the way my Master trained me, you would understand that I find a great many things to hate and nothing to love. But it is not only my hatred that I can use, I can always draw upon the hate and fear of others. My countenance is designed to inspire such emotions. I shall always have a ready reservoir of them to use.” Maul got up and brushed himself off. He grasped the staff he had been using before. With two hands, he shattered the branch against a nearby tree trunk.

Obi-Wan looked at him quizzically. “And yet Sivrelle… when she healed you, she claimed to see good in you. I find that hard to believe.”

“I would be disappointed if you did not.”

“You said you admired her. You said you were intimate with her. Could you have loved her? Are you capable of love? Have you ever been trained to use the Force without the dark side?”

Maul said nothing for a moment, but began pacing the clearing. “I don’t have the answers to those questions. I am not sure I can identify ‘love’ per se.” 

“What you felt when you were drilling this morning. That was joy. Not so far from love, if you ask me.”

The Sith crossed his arms over his chest. “Your point.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. Maul’s patience was thin and perhaps this was not the right time to press him. Then again, perhaps it was best to push on. He stood up. “For the sake of experiment, I would like you to try to use the Force the way I do.”

Maul smiled evilly. “In exchange for you trying mine?”

“We both know that I can use the dark side, but I don’t choose to do so again.”

“You use it, now, and I will try.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I have spent a lifetime expunging those urges. I am not sure that I can access them on a moment’s notice.”

“You will, or I will spend the next three days telling you in excruciating detail all the delightful things I did during the days I was with your healer. I will force images in your brain so vile you won’t be able to stomach them.”

“Beware, Maul, your thoughts betray you. What are you afraid I might see in those images?”

Maul rounded on him. “Do not…”

“I think you’re afraid that she was right.”

“Stop.” Maul said, reaching out to grasp Obi-Wan by his tunic, his voice rough with emotion. “If you could see the things I’ve done for him, the things I’ve been told to do. The way I feel… the way I feel when I do them. You think this was joy? This was nothing. There is no good in me, I can assure you.”

“For him, you say. Your master did this to you. He made you what you are.”

“And I am proud of that.”

“Are you? Because it doesn’t seem like it to me.”

“Would your dead master be as pleased with your efforts as mine has been with mine? Would he be proud to see you so grief-stricken you can hardly function? I struggle to see how you feel you have mastered this ‘detachment’ you Jedi are so proud of.”

It was like a kick to the mid-section, but Obi-Wan stayed the course. “Yes, I do grieve him. I loved him. We should have had many more years together. Is there anyone, even your master, who would care as much if you were gone?”

Maul was silent.

“He has kept you alone, isolated, all these years. He has enslaved you with these endless clone lives. He has trained you to hate and fear and treat the universe as something to be stomped upon. Don’t you see it? You may act evilly, but that doesn’t necessarily make you evil. Sivrelle was a healer, if she saw the light in you, it’s there. You’ve seen it, it’s what drove you here to confront me. You can change.”

“You delude yourself,” Maul scoffed and let Obi-Wan loose. He turned on his heel and headed back inside the hut.

Obi-Wan paced the clearing, trying to make up his mind. For a moment, he had become almost convinced that Maul could be turned back to the light, but perhaps he was deluding himself. He opened his mind to the Force. Was this crazy? He felt… reassured. Well, then. He must proceed.

He followed the Sith inside and found him in the kitchen drinking a bottle of water. “Did you come here to try to turn me to the dark side?”

“It was one of my reasons,” Maul said, wiping his mouth. “Not the only one.”

“If you believe that I can be turned, and I believe strongly that that is impossible, then why is it so improbable it could go the opposite direction, even if you believe it to be impossible?”

Maul laughed and shook his head. “It does not work that way. People turn to the dark side, not the other way around.”

Obi-Wan pressed on. “. . . but you were never turned, were you? You were recruited to the dark side as a child. You’ve never known anything else. You’ve never known the beauty… the strength… of the other side.”

Clenching his fists, Maul started toward the door but Obi-Wan was blocking it. “Get out of my way,” the Sith snarled.

“No.”

The chairs and table suddenly slammed into opposite walls. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” Maul repeated. Nose to nose with Obi-Wan, Maul’s eyes were glowing with power. 

Obi-Wan searched their yellow depths. Dare he push this further? He sensed that even the barest touch would send Maul over the edge and they would be fighting. It was what the Sith wanted. He was daring him to it.

Slowly, Obi-Wan backed down, stepping out of the way and allowing the man to slip into the forest. He let out a sigh of relief and drew in a deep breath. He centered and calmed himself. Could he consider that a victory? He wondered if he would see the man again. He couldn’t leave the planet, but there were many other places he could go.

No, he sensed Maul would be back. But now Obi-Wan knew the stakes of the game. 

—

Maul made his way to his camouflaged ship, not knowing what he intended, but needing to be in his own familiar energy. He had underestimated Kenobi. He’d thought him weak and brash, but rather he found that his youthful exterior hid a remarkable self-possession and a deeper connection to the Jedi way than he’d anticipated. The man was first of all, a man, not a boy any longer, and secondly, a powerful Jedi in a way that was understated, rather than flashy. His current emotional state aside, his abiding faith in the ways of the Force was so strong. He simply personified the qualities the Jedi most prized. Selflessness. Calm. The ability to be in the moment. He’d completely misinterpreted what he’d seen in that duel on Naboo. What he’d taken as a weakness toward the dark side had been merely an extreme reaction to a moment of terrible pain. He doubted he could turn Kenobi. He doubted anyone could.

Worse yet, Kenobi was having more success widening the cracks in Maul’s own beliefs. The cracks that the healer had made with her golden love and unshakeable confidence. Blast her. Blast him. He wished he had never met her, never come here. He knew he could hide on his ship until the storms abated and he could leave, but he knew he wouldn’t. He was no coward. But he did need a plan. He needed to know what he was doing and affirm his goals.

But first, he had to clear his head. He took up his light saber and went outside into the clearing. He drilled until he was drenched with sweat from exertion. He had hoped Kenobi would provoke him into a fight, but the Jedi had shown restraint and wisdom. Maul clenched at the Force and began smashing boulders against the cliff face where his Infiltrator was parked. The small explosions of rock on rock soothed him, but nothing could seem to touch the overwhelming sense of agitation and frustration gripping him. He wanted to blot out the universe with blackness. Erase it all. Make nothing. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Suddenly drained, dizzy with exertion, he stumbled to his sleep couch, stripping off his garments along the way. He crawled in, naked and let the blankness of sleep overwhelm him.

In his dreams, a cool, gentle hand bathed his forehead and showed him a world where the Force was not made of licking tongues of fire, but instead was a diffuse glow, emanating from all living things. You see, a voice said, it is all around you. It supports you. He leaned back and allowed this sparkling energy to hold him up, like water in a lake, and he drifted. It penetrates you. Suddenly he was within the energy, not resting on top of it. He was a part of it and so it was perfectly natural that he should ride its waves. That he should know, before he saw it or heard it, what was around the next corner. He was the corner. He was the flow. This feeling was familiar, but so different from what he was used to.

He woke up. He tried to cling to the dream for a moment, unfocusing his eyes to see if that glow was really there. The world was empty. He was alone. Fear and despair washed over him. Then the flames of his familiar Force surrounded him until he felt strong and powerful again. He allowed the fire to transform his feelings, to make clear his path.

—

Obi-Wan was unsurprised when Maul crossed the threshold the next day. He had passed another fitful night of sleep and was sitting at the table drinking tea. And waiting. He felt unsettled and had spent hours in meditation trying to accept the will of the Force, wondering if what he’d done the day before had been the right path. 

And missing Qui-Gon. 

Being alone was something unfamiliar. Something hard. He’d been able to turn his focus to Anakin, and keep the loneliness at bay, but here, he supposed even the company of Maul was better than facing the profound silence where once his master’s voice had been.

Seeing the Sith Lord come through the door had come as a strange relief. Neither man had spoken. Obi-Wan had merely risen to pour a second cup of tea.

They sat in silence. Obi-Wan could feel the Sith Lord’s confusion, suppressed under an irritation meant to give him access to the dark side, he imagined. “Do you never sort through your feelings?” he blurted out without thinking. 

Maul gave him a scathing look. “No. I spend my days in a state of constant rage. Can you not tell?” he said dryly, raising his teacup in a mocking salute.

“You’re feeling something you’re not acknowledging right now.”

“I am not your Padawan, Kenobi.”

“But you did want to study me,” Obi-Wan countered.

“I wanted us to study each other. Are you ready yet?”

Ignoring the instincts that told him not to, he threw caution to the wind. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s begin. I’ll go first.”

They did not move, but sat locked in conflict across the table from each other. “Are you sure you can handle it,” spat Maul.

Nettled, despite his best intentions, Obi-Wan used the Force to clear the table and raised his eyes to Maul’s. He suspected his look contained anything but Jedi calm. The Sith Lord smiled. “Good,” he continued. “Now, find the spark. Let it ignite the flame of anger.”

He searched, and was surprised when anger flowed readily to the fore in his mind. It was as if it had been there lurking, and seized the opportunity to be unleashed. Awful feelings surfaced rapidly. He was angry at Qui-Gon for letting this monster kill him. He was angry that he had been left with Anakin to train — a boy he was not sure he believed in, who was already damaged and dangerous — when he was still young himself. He saw what Maul meant. The feelings fed on each other revealing more and more, all of those negative thoughts swelling and growing inside of him.

Maul’s voice continued. “Now, close your eyes, look around you… do you see the difference?”

Obi-Wan obeyed. Where he was usually surrounded by the soothing current of the Living Force, now he was in the center of an inferno. The Force rushed around him, devouring.

“Take it. Take it into your hands and throw it.”

Obi-Wan reached into the flames and gathered them up, demanding that they conform to his plans, his muscles tightened as he formed a fireball. Not knowing what exactly to do with it, he threw it at the brazier in the center of the meditation area. The loud crash startled him out of the Force trance and he looked up to see the metal parts of the thing scattered on the floor.

The Sith Lord nodded. “Well done, Kenobi. I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Obi-Wan felt queasy and agitated. “I don’t think I like it. It seems random… uncontrollable.”

“You’re not used to it. Try again.”

Not really wanting to, Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more and let the emotions well up inside him again, fighting the urge to tamp them down, smooth them away as he usually would. He saw the glowing, otherworldly flames around him again. He heard Maul’s voice, “This time, reach into it and imagine that it’s like a glove surrounding your hand. It will do what your hand does.”

Reaching out with his right hand, he visualized the fire coalescing into an extension of it. He clenched his fingers together, the flames did the same. “Choke me. Hit me. Do as you like,” hissed the Sith. “The Force is your fist, feel its power.”

Opening his eyes, he could still vaguely see where the flame fist was. Maul was standing up now, arms crossed over his chest, between him and the open room beyond, as he had stood between him and his fallen master on Naboo. His presence was dark and forbidding, the markings on his face seemed to glow as his eyes did. Obi-Wan gave in to the anger entirely for a split second. Looking at his clenched fist, he swung out and upward in a sharp motion and the flame fist did the same, striking the Sith Lord and tossing him across the room. 

He heard Maul expel a breath as he hit the opposite wall. And then the Sith laughed. Before he knew it, Obi-Wan was out of his chair and standing over him, ready to deal another blow.

“Good. Excellent,” Maul said below him. At his words, Obi-Wan immediately opened his hands and stepped back. “No, don’t retreat yet, I have one more thing to show you,” Maul continued. “Reach into your anger one more time, instead of projecting your mind onto mine as you might to employ your mind tricks, take the anger and push it into me. Make me feel what you are feeling.”

Every instinct of Obi-Wan’s was screaming for him to stop this. To not do what he was doing, but he persisted, he had come this far, he wanted to know it all. His anger still flowed, adding fuel to the flames. He gathered them and, his hand like a claw, shoved them downward into Maul’s chest. The effect was immediate. With a snarl, Maul was on his feet, his own fist cocked and ready. Obi-Wan could feel his hatred. He could feel how that hatred flowing back toward him would make the Force stronger still. 

With effort, he drew back, brought his breathing under control, brought his anger under control. The Jedi mantra came to mind. Emotion, yet peace. Passion, yet serenity. 

The dark lord watched him, radiating power. Obi-Wan turned away and took a seat on the floor of the meditation chamber. In seconds, he was fully calm again, a credit to his training, and he used the Force to gently reassemble the brazier.

“How do you manage fine control when you need it, with such a Force?” he asked, vaguely pleased to hear his voice sound flat and normal.

Once again, Maul chuckled. He came to sat down opposite him. “Different emotions lend themselves to different tasks. How did it feel to you?”

Obi-Wan reflected. In truth, it had felt… arousing. Even now, he could feel the residual tingles from it. It was exciting, he could admit. It could become intoxicating, he imagined, addictively alluring. But at the cost of everything he’d worked for his entire life? The power of the Force as the Jedi used it was equally great, but slower to tap into. It required effort, training, practice, control.

Maul was staring at him, expectant.

“It’s quite a turn on,” he said lightly, hiding the profundity of the experience behind levity. He did not want Maul to understand how liberating it had felt to do what he just did. He did not want to think too hard about what that meant. He needed to recover a bit, restore himself, preserve those memories as records, but strip them of the strange enjoyment he’d experienced watching the Force fist pummel the Sith Lord. He needed to forget that.

“It feeds itself,” Maul said. “The joy in the destruction, the chaos, becomes part of the power.”

Chaos, yet harmony.

Obi-Wan shuddered inwardly, wishing for some space away from Maul, but sure the Sith would not allow it. He would want to press his advantage. That is what Obi-Wan would do if he were in this situation. In fact, that is what he should do right now. He took a deep restorative breath.

“Do you spend your days in such a state of agitation?” he asked pointedly. He did not know what answer he expected. He felt it necessary at this point to give up expecting anything on this trip. To surrender fully to the will of the Force.

“Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk,” he said. “Through passion, I gain strength.”

“Really.” Obi-Wan recognized the quotation from the Sith code.

Maul laughed harshly. “Although the Sith do not believe in ‘peace’ exactly, that does not rule out calm. I can be calm, you’ve seen me calm.”

“On the outside,” said Obi-Wan.

“My calm is more like what comes before the storm. There is tension. There is always the possibility of violence.”

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan thought this through. It still sounded exhausting to him.

Maul continued, “I live in a state of deprivation. I surround myself with very little so there is no distraction from my mission.”

“No wonder there are only two of you,” Obi-wan said, laughing. “Not many people would sign up for your life.”

“It suits me.”

“Does it? Or do you truly know nothing else?”

“I have seen many things, many other lifestyles in my travels. I remain committed to this one.”

“Alright, let’s test that. I have done as you asked and experimented with the dark side. Now it is your turn to try my ways.”

“That is only fair,” agreed Maul with a grimace. “Although I find all your Jedi calm distasteful.”

“Let us see if you can come close to achieving it,” Obi-Wan said by way of challenge.

—

“Begin,” said Maul dispassionately. He had been mildly impressed by Kenobi’s command of the dark side. He could be a powerful Sith if he let himself. His control was great though. It was clear that he had strong emotions, but he had worked hard at keeping them in check, and did so, almost without thinking. It would take a lot to break that conditioning. Sadly, the man seemed pure in his belief in the Jedi way. His will was strong, perhaps unbreakable. Kenobi did not know it yet, but though he had been shaken by the death of his master, by facing Maul, his base was far firmer than he even realized. In time, he would regain his equilibrium, and become stronger through the process.

Maul found himself curious to see if he could wield the light side as successfully. His training was also deep and well-ingrained.

“Sit in a comfortable meditation pose, close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Try to let all emotion slide away from you. Simply be. As thoughts or feelings pass through your mind, push them aside. I find it helpful to identify and classify them. When they are safely ‘put away’ they are less likely to continue to plague me.”

Maul arranged himself on the floor and tried to follow the Jedi’s instructions. How odd it was that they were here doing this with each other. Sworn enemies, each with a profound reason to hate the other, although Kenobi professed to have put his hatred behind him. Maul had noticed though, that his anger had come readily when asked.

He did as he was told and pushed these observations aside for the moment. He focused his mind on breathing. In. out. He kept his mind black and blank. As he kept on in silence emotions began to surface. Anger. Always near. He named it and put it aside. Frustration. Wiped away. Again and again he had to push these feelings down, deep inside him. He was troubled. So long had he been focused on bringing these emotions to the surface, now it seemed impossible to keep them at bay.

Suddenly, he felt Kenobi’s fingertips on his temples. He was alarmed. He had not felt the man approach, but now realized he was kneeling directly behind him. “You’re struggling. You must let go. Do not fight the emotions, just set them aside. You are used to clinging to them, but you must release them.”

He could feel Kenobi’s presence in his mind. Fear, came his voice in his head identifying a new emotion surfacing, let it go into the Force. The Kenobi presence took the fear, separated it from Maul somehow and set it adrift. It seemed to float away. Irritation. This time Maul was able to detach the emotion and let it go. Pride. The voice said then. And shame. And anger. Let them all go, Maul. Somehow, he managed it.

“Now, look at the Force with this calm mind. See it rising from the living things around you, see it flowing,” Kenobi said aloud.

Maul was unprepared for how similar it was to his dream. A sparkling, golden glow now surrounded everything around them. He looked at Kenobi with his mind’s eye and saw the Force swelling up from within him, emanating outward in waves, the silvery blue of a winter’s sky merging with the white gold throughout the room. He remembered the golden color of Sivrelle’s energy. He looked at himself and saw a dark orange glow boiling up from him.

Do not let it disturb you. Deepen your calm and watch it. 

As he did he saw the color of his own energy grow lighter. It seemed to stop churning and become closer to the flowing spring he saw in the Jedi.

How does one use this Force? he thought to Kenobi. It seems too diffuse, insubstantial.

“Concentrate your mind on one thing — the bowl of the brazier — now watch the Force gather behind it, then direct it with your hand, as though you were shifting the flow of water.”

Maul opened his eyes, layering the Force vision over his true sight. As he focused his mind, amazingly he saw the glow intensify where he was thinking. He lifted his hand and pushed upward, cupping the flow of the Force. The brazier moved upward. He turned his hand and slid it aside… the metal bowl flew across the room. 

“That’s good! Beautiful,” said Kenobi. “Now, try to bring it back and set it where it belongs. Beckon it.”

Maul did as he was told. To his surprise the bowl seemed to return to its place more easily than it had left it.

The Force supports order. You’ll find it easier to heal than to destroy. Kenobi’s voice in his mind again. Defense is simpler than attack.

“Watch,” he said aloud. He used the Force and flung a chair toward Maul. Maul’s calm shattered, the flames of the dark side surged and he deflected the chair.

Kenobi smiled patiently. “It would take time to adjust your instincts. Gain your calm once more and try again. This time concentrate on using the Force as a shield and see what happens.”

Maul closed his eyes and practiced wiping away the emotions that boiled forth… frustration, anger, irritation and embarrassment. He hated to fail at anything. He looked at the Force again, that shimmery glow that itself gave him a strange feeling. Like a warm room after returning from the cold, it soaked through him. Its light glared on all the awful defects of his soul, but strangely, it did not judge them. It enveloped them. They were a part of him. He was a part of it. He smoothed aside his surprise.

Ready?

He nodded. The chair came at him. He put up both hands and felt the Force gather around him. The chair skidded off to the side as if it had hit a protective barrier. 

“Well done.”

Maul found he was breathing hard. He felt drained. The effort to remain calm was taxing to him. “No more today,” he said to the Jedi.

Obi-Wan moved away from him and went to light the brazier. It was growing dark outside and a chill had entered the air. How could it be evening already? Time seemed to have passed in strange ways throughout the day. Sitting opposite him, the Jedi inclined his head toward Maul in respect. “I admit I am surprised that you were able to do what you did. I did not think you would be able to maintain control within the calm. What did you think?”

It was a relief to have Obi-Wan out of his head. A relief to allow his emotions to flow again. He was angry that it had been so hard for him and there was a grudging acknowledgement that the light side was clearly as powerful as the dark, just vastly, vastly different. 

And he was starving. 

“I am hungry,” was all he said in reply to Obi-Wan.

The Jedi laughed at this. “Indeed I suppose I am as well.” They looked at each other for another long moment and rose to go to the kitchen to cook.

As they sat down, Obi-Wan opened a bottle of Mandalorian wine. “I don’t know if Sith drink, but after today I could use one.”

“I do not usually partake in intoxicating beverages.” It was true. Maul did not like to feel befuddled or impaired in any way, although he had experimented with various forms of alcohol by way of gathering experience. It paid to know how much one could drink, as well as how these things might affect others.

“I thought you didn’t ‘usually’ do anything,” Obi-Wan said and poured him a glass of golden liquid.

“Getting drunk with your enemy is a bad idea,” Maul said, swirling the liquid in his glass. He smelled it.

The other man laughed and raised his glass toward him before taking a hearty swig. “We were in each other’s heads today, Maul. Like it or not, you’re now in elite group of people who’ve had that… dare I call it a pleasure? Perhaps not. I am sure pleasure is forbidden the Sith. But in any case, I’d be willing to bet you could say the same for me. Let’s celebrate our newfound intimacy before you go back to hating me.”

“Who says I’ve ever stopped?”

“Tsk tsk, Maul. I was in your mind, don’t play me for a fool.”

Acknowledging the point, Maul raised his glass in return and drank. The wine was a bitter, dry one, quite to his liking. By the time he finished the glass and put some of the meal in his belly, he found his nerves were decidedly less jangled. Obi-Wan reached over and refilled his glass, then his own. Maul went stone still. When had he started thinking of Kenobi as Obi-Wan?

The Jedi noticed, stopping mid-drink. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Is something coming?” He scanned the room around him. “I don’t sense anything.”

“I told you, it’s nothing. You Jedi are impossible to be around. I am unused to being with fellow Force sensitives. It is unnerving to find oneself revealed.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Sorry, comes with the territory, I suppose.”

“Your healer friend was the same way,” he said cautiously.

“Sivrelle? Indeed, she was, as most healers are, very astute. And yes, sometimes it was unnerving.” It was Obi-Wan’s turn to freeze up. Maul watched his body language.

“Speak.”

The man looked up. “Ah, see, now you’re doing it, aren’t you?”

“You won’t be free until you’ve said it,” Maul pressed.

Obi-Wan knocked back his second glass of wine and poured another. He sat back and stroked his growing beard, one finger on his lips. Finally, he looked at Maul. “Why did you take her? What did you want? Was it because of me?”

Maul leaned forward. “Ask the real question.”

Obi-Wan smiled grimly. He closed his eyes and then finally looked back at Maul, breathing out a whoosh of air. “Did Sivrelle die because of me?”

There it was. Guilt. More intoxicating than the drink, he soaked it in. But he could not truly enjoy it. He surprised himself by feeling pity for the man. “No,” he answered simply.

He watched the flicker of surprise cross Obi-Wan’s face. “Then why?”

“She died because she was a Jedi,” he snarled, then elaborated. “My master wanted her for some research he was doing. Droids are horrible researchers… most of them don’t have the cognitive ability to make the leaps necessary to advance science. He knew what she had been working on at the Temple, and he wanted her to either confirm or deny some of his own science.”

It was Maul’s turn to drink. The wine went down too easily. “She refused to cooperate. He asked me to turn her, so I tried… in several ways, each unsuccessful. Even on the last day, when I begged her to join me so I would not be forced to kill her.”

His bitterness matched the flavor of the wine. Again he was surprised by this emotion. The strength of it. If only he could Force those memories out. He put his head in his hands and spoke, not looking at the silent Jedi. “She was puny. Nothing. Not even a Knight. She was a horrible fighter, she admitted it to me. Yet she was strong. Far stronger than I thought. She never showed fear of me. She defied me at every turn.

The words were flowing now. The Jedi sat silent. “I made her spar with me. I tired her, then goaded her, pushed her, when she finally resorted to the dark side, I taunted her about it. And then she healed me.”

He finally looked up at Obi-Wan. He was still sitting there, frozen, listening, clearly afraid if he moved or spoke that Maul would stop his outburst. But he couldn’t stop. The words continued to pour out, “She healed me, so gently, so capably. I took the opportunity to plunder her mind. Open as she was to me, I essentially raped her mentally, looking for information, for you, things I could use against her, against you. And she never said a word of reproach for my callousness. In fact, she apologized for invading my mind.”

“That sounds like her. She was ever-forgiving.”

Maul started out of his chair and began pacing like a caged animal. “She knew she was going to die. She knew it, yet she dared talk to me about the light she saw in me. I had been ordered to turn her and she, like you, thought she could turn me.”

“Being a Jedi does lend itself to a certain amount of blind optimism,” said Obi-Wan. Despite his light tone, he remained unmoving at the table watching Maul warily.

“Fools. Both of you… all of you,” spat Maul.

“What happened next?” prodded Obi-Wan.

Maul laughed. “You will like this. My next tactic was to seduce her physically. What I taught you earlier, about forcing your emotions on others, I used this. I poured my lust into her.” He crossed to the table and leaned over Obi-Wan, looking him in the eyes, drawing on his memories to give the Jedi a taste of what he meant.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath and his eyes dilated. “Then you are a liar… you did force yourself upon her!”

Maul cut off the projection and turned away. “No. She resisted again. But in the end it made no difference.”

He sat down at the table wearily. He did not want to tell Obi-Wan, still waiting patiently, the end of the story. But he knew he would. He continued, “She tried to escape. My master contrived to put her in an impossible situation. Your brother-in-arms, Kal-en, he is also dead. I killed him before her eyes and this, of all things, finally broke something in her. To draw her out of her shock, I took her to my chambers. I bathed her, warmed her. You might be surprised to hear it was done with the best of intentions…”

Obi-Wan smiled mildly, but waited.

Maul took a deep breath. “It was night. It was dark. She was dressed in my robe. I bathed myself, and when I returned, she… came to me.”

“I find this impossible to believe.”

“Do not blame her. She was desperate, exhausted, traumatized. She knew it was only a matter of time until I would kill her. It was too much. She knew that I desired her. I think she just… didn’t want to be alone. But she was willing, I assure you. It was her choice. I did not influence her. She would not allow me to. But, oh, her response! I would not have dreamed it possible.”

“I don’t think I need to hear the details.”

“But you do. It is part of the problem,” Maul pushed on. “Sex for me is obliterating. Lust overpowers me like a blackness. I cannot stop it. I can… Have… hurt people with the violence of it. It is overwhelming and terrible in its strength and ruthlessness.”

He could feel Obi-Wan’s anger simmer under the surface, controlled, but barely. “And this was what you did to her?”

Maul spared a glare for him. “Stop jumping to conclusions. Stop trying to find a way to keep her pure in your mind. I told you, she was strong. She stopped me. She took that shimmering Force you showed me and pushed the blackness back. Perhaps you cannot believe it, I hardly do, but by her will alone, what we did… there is no other way to say it… I made love to her… with her.”

Maul stopped. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his hands. In a way, it was a tremendous relief to say it aloud. To admit it. Only, now he understood. He understood that what she had done, what they had done together, had cracked the foundation of what made him Sith. He didn’t know if he could correct it. Could he go back to what he once was? But what else was there for him to be?

He felt Obi-Wan’s hand on his arm. A kind of gentle reassurance. The Jedi spoke, “She was a healer, Maul.” He said this as if it explained everything. 

Maul launched out of his chair again. He let his anger and helplessness boil forth. The furniture, the walls, the whole room began to shake. “Do you not understand? What she did, did not heal me. It has broken me. I am not… right.” He seized the power of the Force and took a bench near the entryway, lifted it and slammed it to the floor, shattering it into pieces. “Before her, I was alone, but never lonely. I believed with every fiber of my being that what I was… was right! That my mission was true. I believed everything he told me and never questioned there was another way.”

There was a groan of straining metal from one of the support beams above. Obi-Wan was on his feet and by his side in seconds. He gripped his arms. “Get control of yourself, Maul. You will bring the house down around us. Sivrelle showed you a different path, a different side of yourself. Something your master has suppressed in you for your entire apprenticeship. You can choose to follow it, or turn your back on it, but it is there. That is her lesson. My lesson.”

The walls continued to tremor. The Jedi shifted his grip to Maul’s head, making him meet his eyes. “Find the calm, find the control. You will not solve this problem unless you do.” His voice was quiet and firm. Maul could not feel Force behind the words, but they had their intended effect without it. Regret. Despair. Hopelessness. He let them all go, one by one. Slowly, he brought himself under control. He sagged into the other man’s arms, too tired to stop himself, and he felt Obi-Wan fold him in. He had not wept in years, could barely remember it as a possibility. He could not do it now. He no longer remembered how.

—

To say Obi-Wan was shocked would be putting it mildly. A man he had thought an animal was now brought low, seeking comfort in his enemy’s arms. He embraced Maul gently and waited. It was only a moment, a fraction of a second it seemed, before he felt the other man stiffen and begin to draw away. He let him. At arm’s length, he held his shoulders a moment longer, and let go. 

Maul stalked back to the table, downed another glass of wine, crossed to the bedchamber and slammed the door behind him. Obi-Wan breathed out at last and collapsed against the doorframe. 

He’d hated hearing those things about Sivrelle. He was still shocked, but also proud, in a way. If she’d stood up to Maul the way he’d said, it was she who’d brought him to this point. But that she’d been his lover… this was something he could not fathom.

He desperately needed to talk to someone, but he was cut off. From the other chamber, he could sense the anger and shame raging inside of Maul. He wondered if he should go to him, but he could not bring himself to do so. Instead, he went out into the darkening night and took in deep gulping breaths of air. Among the trees, the sounds of insects, creatures whirring in the night, he concentrated on the Living Force. 

Qui-Gon, why did you have to die?

Not for the first time, he wished he’d been a few seconds faster so that his master had not had to face Maul alone. Or he wished that it had been him, instead of Qui-Gon, who was dead. Then Anakin would be in the hands of his master, where he should have been. In the hands of a wise and experienced Jedi.

He buried those feelings deep. He could not let Anakin sense his grave doubts. Doubts that were about his ability to train the boy, and the boy’s ability to be trained. He was so old to begin Jedi training, and though he was strong with the Force, and willing, he had a great deal of history outside of the Order, where most Padawans had a blank slate to be filled with the Jedi teachings. By the Force, Anakin still woke at night calling for his mother! Even to Obi-Wan it seemed unfair that she had been left behind, left a slave. It was not right, yet the Jedi way left no recourse for interference there. Qui-Gon’s manipulations to save the boy had been completely his own customary recklessness. And now Obi-Wan was trapped in the aftermath. 

Squaring his shoulders, he gave these feelings and doubts to the Force, imagined them drifting away to join the current of the energy field that surrounded all of them. He had no choice in the matter. He would do his best. There was nothing else to be done, after all.

And what of Maul? Tomorrow would be their last full day together. Only one more night after that and at the next dawn they would both be free to leave this place. To go back to their lives as Jedi and Sith.

He was torn. It was clear that Maul was having a severe “crisis of commitment” as they would say in the Temple. Yet his indoctrination into the Sith ways was so strong, Obi-Wan wondered if he would be able to break free if he wanted to. Or if he even truly felt that to be anything other than Sith was a real option. Was it his obligation as a Jedi to counsel Maul to give up his training? To undermine the beliefs and faith that made up the core of his being? He feared that to begin such a task and perhaps to leave it unfinished would damage Maul to a terrible degree. It could possibly make him even more dangerous, more unpredictable. But, could he stand by and do nothing and let that monster continue down the dark path? 

Obi-Wan laughed inwardly. He’d used the word ‘monster’ out of habit. But it was hard to apply it to Maul now. He knew him now, as a man. Perhaps there was a part of him that was monstrous, but he also seemed a broken creature, albeit a dangerous one. He was intelligent, thoughtful. Extraordinarily talented in the ways of the Force. Strong, but vicious. He could not let his guard down. Sometimes wounded animals were the most dangerous of all.

Through the darkness, he made his way back to the hut. Inside, he sensed sleep, or at the very least, calm, from the still-closed bedchamber. He put the kitchen in order, dimmed the lights, removed his boots and changed into more comfortable versions of his Jedi robes. Too worked up to sleep himself, he found his way into the main room and settled in front of the brazier to try to meditate.

He put his mind through the usual exercises, then turned it toward the day itself, particularly the time when he’d been using the dark side. Watching as though outside of himself, he saw the obvious power and potential for brutality the dark offered. There was no filter for restraint with that side of the Force. It was consuming. He searched the feelings he’d had while using it and found that he could understand Maul’s joy at the prospect of it. Like being a carnivore, it was a tearing, ripping kind of sustenance, as opposed to the slow absorption of nutrients of trees and plants that was more akin to his experience with the Living Force. The Living Force was the sun and rain, the dark side was blood and flesh. It fed you, filled you, but it could also devour you.

He shuddered away from the idea of that, but knew he could not entirely turn away. What Maul had said earlier was true, when he’d fought him on Naboo, he’d briefly accessed the dark side and used it against him. Effectively. Was it wrong for a Jedi to inadvertently or occasionally use it? The Jedi way was meant to be about defense, not attack, but in the heat of conflict, were there not times when the best defense was to go on the offensive? He felt lost again. Alone. He took a deep breath, gave these thoughts and feelings to the will of the Force, and stretched his awareness out into the galaxy.

At first, he sensed Maul, nearby. Then other creatures in the forest beyond, then he reached the barrier of the storms. Could his awareness pass through that? Was it wise? He pushed outward, trying to find Master Yoda among the stars. The disruption of the storms buffeted him, but he tried to see their chaos as being a part of the pattern of the Force, another kind of order, and the distortion receded. He kept his mind blank and just looked, seeking the familiar warmth of Yoda’s Force signature. Surprised, yet pleased, he found it at last at home at the Temple on Coruscant. He sank deeper into himself, deeper into the Force, and reached. He had never done anything quite like this before. Yoda’s mind returned his questing touch, seemingly asking if all was well. How could he explain? He tried to radiate reassurance and was rewarded with the same feeling from Master Yoda. For the moment, it was enough. It was a steadying feeling, to know that Master Yoda was out there, that all was well. He retreated back to himself, drew strength from the Force, and opened his eyes. Shocked, he realized the new day was dawning. He had spent the whole night in meditation, yet he felt as rested as if he had slept. The mysteries of the Force continued to reveal themselves. He felt humbled and awed. But not so alone. Not so alone at all. Whatever this day would bring, he would face it, but with the Force.

It was then that he realized Maul sat on the other side of the room naked to the waist, in a similar meditation pose. His eyes found Obi-Wan’s immediately. The second they met, though, Maul’s eyes flicked away again.

He is ashamed, thought Obi-Wan. Embarrassed to have shown weakness.

Maul spoke and Obi-Wan realized suddenly that he held a light saber — Obi-Wan’s light saber — in his hands. “Sloppy, Jedi. I could have killed you as you meditated.”

“I trusted you, and lo… my trust is rewarded. I yet live,” he cracked, trying to cover his surprise.

“You must have gone far.”

Obi-Wan said nothing.

“Did you talk to anyone? Should I expect a Jedi escort out of here tomorrow?”

“No. I was seeking… something. An answer perhaps. The reassurance that the rest of the universe was still out there. Sometimes this,” he looked around and shrugged. “This feels like an elaborate and very bizarre dream.”

“No dream, alas,” Maul said. He turned over Obi-Wan’s light saber in his hand. “You built a new one?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “And you?”

Igniting the saber, Maul nodded.

“Same design?”

Maul stood and took a few experimental slashes with the blue saber. He nodded. “I like the light staff. It has a wider range of options. Your saber is well made though. Nice balance. Simple design. I approve.” He switched it off again. “If it were me, I would have made this area thinner. You don’t need the bulk. With your fighting style, a slimmer hilt would give you more maneuverability. It would be more elegant.”

He tossed the saber back to Obi-Wan, who let out a careful breath. His gut had told him Maul did not intend to harm him, but he was a bit off-balance. And Maul was capable of anything. Obi-Wan looked at his saber, he could see what Maul was talking about, where it could be slimmed down. Maybe next time.

“Is your lightstaff just two single sabers put together?”

“It started that way, but this later version… I’ve made some more modifications. I have a lot of time. I’m always looking for ways to reduce the overall weight. To fight with the staff as a single blade, the hilt is a bit cumbersome, too long, but it is workable. Next time I think I will make it so that they can be split apart to fight, or joined together.”

It was strange to sit and talk shop with the Sith. Next thing he knew they’d be comparing the lightspeed capabilities of their transports like two gearheads at a parts shop on the lower levels of Coruscant. For his part, the Sith Lord merely went into the kitchen and put a kettle on for tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he stood with legs apart, hands clasped behind his back, rooted to the spot his body rigid with tension. The muscles of his back and shoulders were lean, broad, toned. The tattoos reinforced the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. From the outside, he looked powerful and strong, as Obi-Wan was sure he meant to.

—

Maul was in excruciating mental agony. He was trying to keep the Jedi from seeing it, but he felt like he was crumbling apart inside. To have broken down so completely, it was untenable. He was furious with himself. Furious with Obi-Wan for being there to witness it. He felt unfit to be called a Sith Lord. What was he doing here? Playing house with the Jedi? Slowly, deliberately, he turned off the flame, then as his anger boiled forth he lashed out, knocking the kettle off the stove.

“Don’t think what you saw yesterday means you’ve won, Kenobi,” he said, turning to face Obi-Wan. “I have cleansed myself of that weakness.” The easy camaraderie of the past few moments was erased.

“Have you,” the Jedi said skeptically, rising from his seated position.

“You have failed in your attempts to subvert my training. Just as you will fail trying to turn the Skywalker boy into the so-called Chosen One.” 

Obi-Wan looked surprised. “What do you know of Anakin?”

“My master knows all. Do you think he would let such potential for power languish in the hands of the Jedi? No, you will see, he has plans for your young Padawan.” In the night, Maul had seen Obi-Wan’s doubts about the boy. His fears that he would not be able to train him. It was a perfect opening.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Maul smiled. “But you see, you won’t be able to. You think you are strong enough to train him? To fend off the traps my master has set for him?”

Obi-Wan was still calm, but to Maul’s eyes, it was a fragile calm. “I am not alone in this.”

“That is what you think, but you are. He is your responsibility. And you have qualms about him yourself, don’t you? At that age, for a boy such as he, anger and fear will come more easily than calm and control.”

Maul began to circle Obi-Wan. This was a Sith power. Undermining one’s enemy. Pointing out to them the glaring nature of their weakness. With each word, he felt stronger. His own fears and doubts subsiding in the face of his own power over Obi-Wan. So much more satisfying than if he had cut him down in his trance.

“If your master wants Anakin for an apprentice, where does that leave you?” asked the Jedi.

“Don’t try to turn this around. My master’s plan is long, and silent. You won’t be able to defend Skywalker from it because it will be so subtle, so quiet, you will never know it is happening until it is too late. He is already setting his hooks in the boy.”

He could see worry on the brow of the Jedi. “I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t stop it. The seeds have been sown. You’ve seen it haven’t you? The rage? The terror in the boy’s heart? You aren’t strong enough to protect him, to overcome his deficiencies, to teach him to let that go. A pity I killed your master. An older, wiser Jedi might have been able to save him.” He sensed that he’d scored a blow and pounced, mentally, raising a hand to project a terrible fury into him.

For a moment, he thought he’d failed and then with a cry Obi-Wan turned and swung at him, not with his saber, but with his fist. He connected with a blow to the face. Maul stumbled backward, but recovered. He laughed out loud. “Beating me will make no difference, it is already too late. He is lost, you just don’t know it yet.” He took another blow from the Jedi, but returned it, watching Obi-Wan’s head snap back in gratifying fashion. He lunged at him then, wrapping him up and throwing him to the ground. He held him down from the side and threw vicious elbows into the Jedi’s ribs, enjoying the violence. Each blow, he punctuated with more words, “I will seduce him, as I seduced your healer. Promises of power. Promises to end his weakness. He will eat it up, as I did, when I was a boy. He will follow my footsteps more easily than he follows yours.”

“Stop,” said Obi-Wan, bucking his hips underneath him, trying to throw him off.

“Make me, weakling,” Maul taunted. He could feel the Jedi’s true anger, true fears rising. Then Obi-Wan hooked a leg under Maul’s and performed a swift reversal, ending up on top of him. 

Good, thought Maul. Only a little more. He pushed him slightly, using Obi-Wan’s own fear and doubt to open him further to the rage inside him. The dark side stormed around them both. Maul laughed, his heart filled with joy.

—

Obi-Wan had sworn he would never let this man hurt another person he loved. Never. 

He had Maul fully mounted. His fists landed blow after blow on the man’s tattooed face. His own knuckles became bloodied where they grazed the Sith Lord’s horns. But still Maul laughed. Seemingly without him calling it, Obi-Wan’s light saber was in his hand. He rested the hilt on Maul’s chest, the flat projection plate pressed firmly at the center of his tattooed designs. Everything went still. All he had to do was ignite it and the Sith Lord would be dead. 

Maul spat blood and purred in his seductive voice, “Good. Do it. Kill me. Protect your Padawan. Avenge your friend. Your master. Better yet, toss your saber aside and do it with your bare hands. There is no better way to feel a person’s lifeforce ebb away. Just grab my head… one quick twist and it’ll be all over.”

As if he were outside his body, Obi-Wan saw himself obey Maul’s instructions and throw his light saber across the room. He took firm hold of Maul’s skull, the side horns pressed into the webbing between thumb and forefinger. Blood pulsed in his eye, throbbing. There was his own anger, but then there was another rage that was not his own pushing him from outside, from the Force, begging him to do it. Telling him, urging him to make the motion that would end this Maul’s life. 

And plunge him into the dark side.

“Is that you?” he hissed at the man.

“What?”

“The rage. Are you using your Sith trick on me?” He could feel the fire of the dark side swirling around him, waiting to feast on him.

“No,” said Maul. “It is all your own, the dark side is reflecting it back to you, amplifying it. Glorious, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan ignored that. Flush with power, he spoke again, “Who is your master?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Obi-Wan threw his mind at Maul’s in a flurried attack but was met with solid, unbudging shields. He saw the flames of the dark side gather around his hands. Twist, said a voice in his head. Do it. 

He was lost. Everything was as unfamiliar as the licking tongues of fire that surrounded him. But then, another voice within him said, simply, No.

He realized with a start that both voices had been his own. He kept his eyes locked with Maul’s and slowly, incrementally, pushed the darkness away, his own familiar Force replacing that wild and furious one. His own power returning. His own control. His own calm. He removed his hands from the man’s head.

“No. I won’t become you. I won’t be your suicide.”

“Just take your vengeance,” Maul made a last plea. “What happens after that is none of my concern.”

“Isn’t it? Won’t another you just wake up in a pod somewhere? Filled with more and more and more hatred for me?” he demanded. “Killing you solves nothing.”

He called his light saber to his hand once more and got up, still standing over the prone Sith Lord. “Was this even your plan? Or was it your master’s? Are you, in fact, entirely his pawn? Perhaps he’s already activated a spare and that Maul is back there, wherever, while expendable, flawed you tries to turn me here.”

Obi-Wan backed away and Maul slowly climbed to his feet. Obi-Wan nodded. “Or did he send you to kill me, but killing me was not enough for you? Turning me would be the best revenge? Was anything that has happened here real? Any of your sad tale of doubt and confusion? Your supposed crisis of conscience? Or was it all part of your seduction?”

Obi-Wan crossed to him until they were face to face, inches apart. “Is there truly any good left in you?”

Maul stood mutely, covered in his own blood.

“Answer me, blast you!” 

“Fool. You think I know the answer to that?” Maul laughed, a terrible sight.

Obi-Wan shook his head and backed away. “I wash my hands of you. Everything you touch you will twist to evil.”

“A Jedi losing hope?” Maul said derisively. “What is the galaxy coming to? I suppose we have our answer then. Darkness wins.”

“Not while there is breath in my body,” protested Obi-Wan.

“You just admitted there is no hope for me.”

“Are you arguing otherwise?”

Maul was quiet again. But as Obi-Wan started to turn to walk away, he spoke, almost as if putting out a hand to stop him from leaving. Obi-Wan realized that the Sith had never touched him, not once, except in anger. “No, you were quite right. I have no hope. I cannot even look forward to joining the Force in death. I am a shell, whose soul resides in an eternal prison. There is no escape. Should I turn to the light, my master would find me and kill me, and I would be again in his service, another me, another life…”

Obi-Wan felt deflated. “Another choice, perhaps?”

“I told you once. I made my choice long ago. There is no going back for me.”

“No,” retorted Obi-Wan. “Your choice was made for you. Taken from you, by your master.”

“Enough! I am sick of hearing you. You act as if it is so different for you Jedi, stolen as infants. You cannot win this battle. You cannot kill me. You cannot turn me back to something I never was. It is hopeless. I am hopeless.” Maul turned and walked out of the house into the clearing.

“It is my choice to try,” Obi-Wan said following him. “Just as you tried and failed to turn me. Just as you may try, but are destined to fail with Anakin. He is the Chosen One.”

“Don’t be so sure, Jedi,” Maul snarled. He stopped in the middle of the clearing. He was still clad only in his black trousers and in the sunlight, the red and black of his chest was a hard contrast against the verdant green of the forest behind him. Obi-Wan felt whiplash. Maul was careening wildly between being a lost soul and being the Sith monster. “I have read your prophecy. Haven’t you ever wondered what it means to ‘balance the Force’?” 

In truth, Obi-Wan had pondered this, often, since Anakin had come into his life. To him, it did not always sound as hopeful as it was generally interpreted to be. He had no answer for the Sith. 

“Are we not ‘in balance’ right here? You and me? Dark and light? Is this a good thing? Is this pleasant? Peaceful? Happy? Are you enjoying our little interlude?” Maul laughed out loud, harshly, abrasively. “No, this is war. That is what balance is. Two sides opposed, in eternal conflict.”

“You’re wrong,” said Obi-Wan, wishing he believed himself. 

“It makes no difference. I am sick of talk,” Maul said. He thrust out his right arm and from a hidden place in the bushes, his light saber sprang into his hand. “Now I will kill you, as I have longed to do for months. Killing you will put an end to doubt. There may be no end for me, but there is one for you.”

Obi-Wan’s light saber was in his hand and ignited before the words were out of Maul’s mouth.

—

Maul unleashed his joy at the idea of fighting Obi-Wan again. Unleashed his anger at having been defeated by him before. The thrill of battle was upon him as he heard the snap-hiss of his twin blades. Obi-Wan was a worthy opponent and Maul relished the chance to face him again. He wasted no time but struck. Obi-Wan parried. The dance was begun.

They were evenly matched.

It was an elegant battle. Obi-Wan’s loose tunic and flowing trousers whirled around him as he spun, blocked another of Maul’s strikes and delivered one of his own. Maul leapt out of the way, flipping over and turning to deliver a kick backward to Obi-Wan’s face. The Jedi dodged it and sliced his saber downward first one way and then the other as Maul parried both with the two sides of his blade. Again and again the electric crackle of the light sabers clashing echoed in the clearing, the only sound save for the wind in the surrounding trees. 

Maul surprised Obi-Wan by launching himself off of a tree, connecting with a kick to the face. The Jedi fell backward onto the ground, but was able to defend Maul’s next blow and leap to his feet to deliver a stinging backward elbow as Maul circled around him. 

The duel went on and on. It was much the same as when they had fought before. Both of them spinning, slashing, leaping, employing every technique at their disposal to try to gain the upper hand but only exhausting each other, waiting for the other to make a mistake that never came. Both of them were perfectly centered in their individual Force energies. He could feel the dark side directing his actions, he was a part of its flow, it’s ferocity. He no longer clenched at it, but became the agent of its mayhem, the sharp edge of its honed blade. He sensed that it was the same for Obi-Wan.

Maul wondered what the battle would look like if viewed only through the lens of the Force. The silvery blue glow of Obi-Wan’s signature ebbing and flowing against the fiery tongues of Maul’s voracious energy.

This time, he got no sense that Obi-Wan had had cause to turn to the dark side. He fought with a fierce calm, with a graceful dignity that might have been mistaken for weakness except when you were on the receiving end of his blows.

“You missed an opening there, Kenobi. Have you stopped trying to kill me? Or is it just that you cannot?” asked Maul finally. He knew he would have to goad the Jedi into a mistake to break the stalemate.

They were at an impasse, both men standing, light sabers ready to clash again, when suddenly, Obi-Wan switched his saber off. “I cannot kill you, Maul, It is true. I don’t really want to. How many times would I have to face you, to strike you down, before I ultimately defeated you?” He spread his hands wide in surrender and met Maul’s eyes. “No. Perhaps it is for another Jedi to finish you. I will never know.”

Maul was enraged. “Fight me! Are you a coward like her, unable to face the battle?”

Obi-Wan nodded knowingly, maddeningly calm. “So my vision was true. She walked into your blow.”

“And vanished! Some piece of Jedi trickery.” Maul used the Force to switch Obi-Wan’s saber on. “Fight me,” he pleaded, hating the desperation that had entered his voice.

But Obi-Wan threw the saber aside. “She joined the Force. As you might do, were you one of us. Perhaps your master could not hold your soul hostage then.”

He stepped toward Maul, whose twin-blades still glowed. Stepped forward again. Maul did nothing. He could return the Jedi’s favor and slice him in two. He could quarter him. He could cut his head off and take his time dicing him into more pieces than he could count. Unless he vanished like she had. And then what? He realized it didn’t matter. Although Kenobi did not have a thousand clones, Maul could no more be rid of him than Obi-Wan could of Maul. No matter how small the pieces were he chopped him into. He would haunt him forever. There was no way out, for him.

Maul howled. He spun his saber and jammed one end of it into the ground, which served little purpose and only frustrated him more. He switched it off and fell to his knees, howling again. “Would that I had died in that pit. I might be dead but I would have been pure. I would have been spared this. This hell. This torture. To know the limits of one’s prison. The depths of one’s futility. Is there a worse punishment than this?

It was all clear to him now, his master’s plan for him. He would never allow him to become strong enough to defeat him. Sidious would kill him himself at the exact point, if it ever arrived, he felt threatened. Then wake another Maul. Perhaps the transfer of memory was not automatic, perhaps if he died right now, his master would edit out his doubts and fears and he would be again the Maul who fought Obi-Wan on the brink of that pit. The one who killed Qui-Gon with the righteous fury of a true believer. 

 “No, I will spend eternity in service of a master whose mission I no longer understand, barred from progress, forbidden to change. Not strong enough to strike him down, just weak enough to understand my own failure. Again and again and again.”

He had been inventing the plot about Anakin to taunt Obi-Wan, but now he realized that what he had been saying was actually the truth. At some point, his master would toss him aside for that other, if he could turn him. A younger, stronger apprentice. The Chosen One.

Obi-Wan stood over him, then knelt. Maul refused to look up, to see what had to be pity on his face. “It doesn’t have to be that way. Join me. We can protect you from him. Tell us who he is and we can fight him, destroy him.”

But Maul knew it would never work. “You don’t understand my master’s power. How careful he is, how patient, how dark and long his plans are. You will never find him, never discover him, until it is too late.”

“Make me understand. Help me, and I can help you.”

“Please. Kill me now. I don’t care if it is senseless, I will have a few moments peace at least.” Maul pressed his own light saber into Obi-Wan’s hands. He threaded his hands between his horns and rocked in despair.

“You know that I can’t do that, Maul.”

“Then take me prisoner.”

“It doesn’t work that way. You can be free, but you have to make the choice. I cannot make it for you.”

“I will kill myself.”

“And pop back to life back in your master’s power?”

“I am always in his power. Even here. Even now.”

Obi-Wan leaned over and tried to raise Maul to a seated position. “Get up,” he commanded. “This solves nothing. Come back to the house and we will think together.”

As before, his firm, calm voice, even without the power of the Force, managed to compel Maul into action. He raised his head. Obi-Wan stood and extended a hand to help him to standing. They retreated indoors. 

Maul was covered in blood from the beating Obi-Wan had given him earlier, and the Jedi was bruised and battered as well. They had fought in the clearing in bare feet, which were now scratched and torn. Making sure Maul was seated at the table, Obi-Wan disappeared and returned with cloths and a bowl of water. He washed his own shredded hands in the sink and, from a cabinet in the kitchen, dug out basic medical supplies. 

He knelt in front of him and set about wiping his face of caked blood. 

“I can do this myself.”

“I know. But I want to do it. I’m not a healer, of course, but I will do my best.” Obi-Wan’s hands were gentle and sure, like the healer’s had been. There were only one or two cuts that needed a coating of bacta. It was strange to be touched this way. With care.

Maul sat throughout the process staring dully straight ahead.

When he was finished, Obi-Wan asked, “Do you want to rest, or talk now?”

Maul shook his head. “I cannot sleep.”

“I can sedate you…”

“I hate sedation.”

“Of course, you do. I do, too.”

Maul turned and looked at him. “I cannot see a possible future that makes any sense.”

Obi-Wan nodded and sat down in the next chair. He traced random designs on the tabletop with his finger while he thought. “Can you keep this… “ He gestured with his hands to indicate their environment, their experience. “What happened here? Your doubt? From your master? At the Temple we would call this a commitment crisis and there would be special counselors to talk to, but you Sith, so alone in your path… is there anyone to whom you can turn for support?”

“Jedi have doubts?” Maul asked, effectively ignoring the question.

“Of course. I myself briefly left the order when I was young.”

“You seem the model Jedi now.”

Obi-Wan sketched a quick salute. “At your service,” he said. “But if you could keep what you are going through from your master, you would buy some time to figure out what you want to do. To be back in your environment and see if maybe there is some other choice. Perhaps there would be a way to undermine him. If you died, could you sabotage the rest of the clones when you woke up?”

Maul shook his head. “He is always there, although it seems instantaneous from death to new life.”

“Hmm, then it must not be automatic. He controls it. Safer to remain in this body, until you know that everything will pass from one to the next without interruption.”

“You think he can choose what… or how… things transfer? Of course… of course… more manipulation. He leaves nothing to chance. He controls everything,” Maul said, then laughed ruefully. “Then again, perhaps I would like to forget all this.”

Obi-Wan shook his head now. “The coward’s way out?”

“Never call me a coward,” Maul snarled.

“Then fight. Fight him. I can’t make you become a Jedi, but choose what you are. You didn’t choose this. You can change.”

“You could join me. Together we could defeat him. You are strong. We complement each other.”

“I cannot fight by your side without approval of the Council, and for them to grant that, they would need to trust you, and you trust them.”

“We could be… something else. Neither Jedi nor Sith. Is that not possible?”

“And then what? What would we be? Outcast in the galaxy? Would you forsake the dark side to become my ally? Would you want me to forsake the light to be your comrade in arms?”

Maul looked down. He didn’t know. Everything seemed implausible at that moment in time. If there was a guiding connection to the Force, he had completely lost his. He was adrift.

“I believe in the light, Maul. When I am one with the Force, when our intentions unite, it feels pure, right. Nothing feels better. Nothing. I am a Jedi. I am afraid that is forever. For me.” To Maul’s ear, Obi-Wan sounded slightly surprised at his own certainty.

“That is what I said about being a Sith. That is what I felt. But… I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t know what is true.”

“My masters would say you must quiet your mind and listen to the will of the Force,” Obi-Wan said. He paused for a moment, and stood up, as if weighing what he wanted to say. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Sivrelle. There is good in you. I believe it.”

Maul stared at the Jedi. A month ago, he had never considered being anything other than what he was. Now he felt as though every support, every scaffolding of his life had been torn away. He was in freefall, with no bottom in sight. Falling, always falling, down that pit, again. “Perhaps I should rest after all,“ said Maul. He hauled himself upright, completely drained, and went to the bedchamber door. He half hoped, for reasons he could not fathom, that Obi-Wan would follow him. But the Jedi remained standing in the kitchen. Maul looked back. When Obi-Wan thought Maul was gone, he sat wearily in his chair and dropped his head in his hands.

—

Obi-Wan felt like he had been hit by a speeder. His body ached all over from the fight and subsequent duel and emotionally, it was worse. He’d come here for sanity and felt less sane than ever. No. He realized that wasn’t entirely true. Some things made less sense, but some things made more. He’d been tested, and he’d come through whole. Better than whole. He’d learned to love his enemy.

Love might be a bit strong. Appreciate? He felt for Maul, though he knew the warrior would hate his pity. It was true he had left the Order once, and he understood the terror that such a choice presented. He felt a little sick himself, empathetically understanding what Maul was going through. It would be worse for him, Obi-Wan thought, he was older than Obi-Wan had been, his indoctrination more complete, and more severe. Jedi were encouraged to choose, to practice free will within the boundaries of the Order, but it sounded like Maul had not. He had only ever had two goals, to help the Sith rule the galaxy, and when it was time, to strike down his master.

What would he have left if he stopped being a Sith? Obi-Wan was confused, tired, he knew he should seek answers within the Force, but he was too exhausted to try. He was tired of asking, trying to solve this puzzle. He knew it was senseless to wish to turn back time, but for a moment, he longed for the uncomplicated days before Anakin had come into his life. When it had been just him and Qui-Gon, when he had been the Padawan, when the choices were largely out of his hands.

He shook his head. That was the coward’s path, and he liked thinking of himself as a coward no more than Maul did. He searched himself, he closed his eyes and submerged himself in the flow of the Force. It came easily, such a connection, so easily that it surprised him. He trusted in its will. His realized his belief was stronger than ever, his bond to the Living Force deeper and more profound. He knew in his heart that the dark side would never again tempt him, never again control him, even for a moment.

I am Obi-Wan Kenobi.

I am a Jedi.

Maul cried out in his sleep and without thinking, Obi-Wan went to him, and put a hand on the furrows in his horned and tattooed brow as he would a child. As he did for Anakin when he had nightmares. His own exhaustion overcame him, and he allowed himself to sink into sleep next to the Sith Lord.

He woke to find Maul sitting up with his back against the wall, staring at him. “I will not forget what you have done for me, Jedi.”

Obi-Wan rolled over and bolted upright in confusion, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He hoped firm contact with the ground would settle him down. “Good morning,” he muttered. “You never do anything by halves, do you?”

“What do you mean ‘by halves’?” Maul asked. Then continued. “I die by halves.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a sharp look. Was that a joke? Maul’s lips quirked slightly, the tattoos enhancing the effect as a smile. A smile that wasn’t really a smile. “Do you feel better?”

Maul laughed. “Better. Well, yes. I suppose I do. I feel less like dying.”

“That is a step up, is it not?”

“I quieted my mind and listened to the will of the Force,” Maul replied with only a hint of mockery.

“Did you?” Obi-Wan for some reason could not wake up entirely. Even after everything that had happened, he could not get over the bizarre nature of sharing his space with a Sith. How could he have let his guard down enough to sleep next to him? How could things have changed that much between them? Yet they had.

“I did, in my way,” he said, cocking his head. “I see the wisdom in what you counsel. I see no other viable option than to return to my Master, and to bury everything that happened here as deeply as I can. He may see through me, but… I have no other choice.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “If you change your mind, if you decide it possible to change, to escape, seek my help. My hand remains forever outstretched to you.”

“And the hand of the Jedi Order?” Maul asked skeptically.

“I would make it so.”

“I will probably be dead soon, but… I will not forget. At least, a part of me won’t.”

By unspoken agreement, they both stood and began their preparations to leave the planet. Bathing, dressing, gathering their belongings.

At last, a voice over the com indicated that the twelve hour departure window had arrived. The inevitable parting was at hand. Obi-Wan found himself strangely melancholy. He gave Maul a long look, wondering what the future held for both of them, knowing he might never know what became of the Sith. Maul seemed equally loath to leave. 

They paused, with nothing left to say and so much left unspoken, at the entryway.

“We might have been brothers, had things been different,” Obi-Wan said to him, breaking the silence.

“We still could, if…”

“Or…”

They both stopped, aware that should they meet again, it would likely not be as friends. Maul shook his head. “We both know there is no way.”

Obi-Wan gripped the other man’s shoulder, wanting to offer him some sort of sign of support, of comfort, of friendship? Something before they parted. “If it is your wish, I will make it a promise to search for your clones and destroy them.”

Maul laughed grimly. “And give up eternal life?”

“Perhaps, if that life is not one of free will.”

“You might be right, Jedi,” he said solemnly, as though he had come to some decision. “If you find the facility, destroy it, and with it, all the endless me’s. I suspect they may be on Coruscant, though I cannot be sure.”

“If you believe in the will of the Force, I will be guided to it, if it is right and just that I am.”

They stood in the doorway, equals. Opposites, yet not so very different. Lingering although there was no reason to do so. Then suddenly without explanation, Maul grasped Obi-Wan’s head in one hand and pulled him in for a swift but fierce kiss. It was not a sexual kiss, but seemed meant to convey an emotion that the Sith was unable to express in words. Ending the kiss as abruptly as he had initiated it, he stepped back, releasing him. They searched each other’s eyes.

Obi-Wan inclined his head toward his enemy. “May the Force be with you, Maul. Whichever Force you choose.”

And then Maul was gone, melting out of Obi-Wan’s life and into the shadows of the forest as silently as he had arrived.

Obi-Wan was left stroking his beard contemplatively. His fingers strayed to his lips, where the Sith Lord had lately pressed his.

It was time to go.

—

Maul hardly saw the terrain between the hut and his ship. Hardly counted the moments, the steps. His eyes were blurred. His feelings… he could not put names to them. Obi-Wan’s voice came unbidden to his mind, speaking in words that had never been said aloud.

You are not evil. You are a man. There is a place for you in the light, if you choose it.

He searched his mind, his heart, for traces of the Jedi. He must not let his master see such thoughts, nor sense Obi-Wan in his mind. Sidious must never know what had happened here. Maul hunted Kenobi’s presence down, sought his memories and gathered them up. He locked them inside of a mental box. He bricked up the box behind a wall, then piled stones in front of that. He made himself forget what  was behind them.

Once in his Infiltrator, he sealed the door and settled into the cockpit. He waited until it became familiar again. Until being Darth Maul became familiar again. Until the creature that had shared so much with the Jedi seemed a separate entity. In his mind, he struck that creature down. He cut it in half, and in half again. He brought the fury down upon himself. He burned what was left. Let the fire scour away that creature’s doubts. That creature’s weaknesses. He scattered the charred remains. Then he pushed and prodded at the ashes until it felt as though all of it had happened to someone else. Not to him. Not to him. He purified his mind with hatred. With disdain. With coldness.

He tested himself. Who are you?

I am a Lord of the Sith.

He tested again. Who are you?

I am Darth Maul.

He waited. 

I am Maul, he repeated. 

It felt good and right. He told himself he felt untroubled. He made himself believe it.

The press of two buttons started the launch sequence for his ship. He took off, and turned toward the dark of space, placing everything — all the light in the universe — behind him.