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Maul wakes up again. He hadn't expected this to happen.
The chronic pains he's already used to are accompanied by more muscle aches spread throughout his body, but mainly in his arms, like when he was an apprentice who spent hours practicing Katas until the movements became instinctive.
He grunts, his senses stretching around him. He expects the usual, the hum that indicates life or machines, the warmth of some presence or even an echo that confirms his solitude, but then nothing comes.
Nothing comes and Maul realizes he can barely feel what's beside him, he can't feel anything.
The Zabrak wakes with a start, his hand rising to his neck, fearing to encounter the worst nightmare of any Force-sensitive. A collar, a Force-restrictive collar, cutting him off from the living connection he maintained even half-dead. Maul is alone, more alone than he was even on Lotho Minor.
He looks around as his vision slowly returns. He was in an infirmary, the white walls and the smell of bacta hitting his senses all at once, making him even more dizzy. He brought his hand to his head and immediately noticed another alarming mistake.
His usually short and pointed horns —sharp, because Icarus knew as many ways to sharpen his daggers as he did to sharpen horns— were smooth and blunt. Small instead of how they should be, like when he was a child and his master amused himself by trimming them with his lightsaber.
Running his tongue over his teeth, he discovered they were in a similar state; instead of the curves and points they should have, they were flattened and crushed like human teeth. He didn't even need to look at his hands to discover that his claws were also in a similar state.
He was alone, in pain, in an unfamiliar infirmary, without his lightsaber, unable to connect with the Force, and even the biological weapons he was born with had been taken from him. What had happened?
His memories, as always, were hazy. Was he in Janix? Fleeing, fleeing Janix. The empire, the inquisitors. The Crimson—Dryden Vos, yes. He offered transport, they went. The others too, who… Devon. Devon and her master, the detective and his son, another droid. They reached a crossing…
And were attacked. The inquisitors found them. Their Mandalorians, Spybot, Icarus. They all died. Drowned in the viscous, acidic ocean. The masked inquisitor, the other with the crow mask. They couldn't follow them across the crossing, they managed to get out of the city, but then what—
Him.
That thing. It emerged from the trees after dragging Rook into the fog. The temperature plummeted, and Maul would have feared it had been his master if not for the difference in size. The imposing figure that descended upon them with easily twice their strength. He wasn't an inquisitor, he was worse.
He was a Sith lord. He was his replacement.
There was only one person his master had been preparing for as long as him, someone he had put the same effort into, not just a means of escape like Tyranus, someone who influenced the very existence of the Force—
"You are awake."
-
The black mask stared at Maul from the infirmary entrance, its massive stacture covering the entire doorway. Maul felt his lip curl instinctively, his body reacting defensively, baring its fangs, however weak they may be now. He didn't react; the only sound in the room was the heavy breathing of the mask itself.
Without another word, the figure approached, grabbing a chair from a table in the infirmary and placing it in front of Maul's cot. Close, too close. Maul pressed his entire body against the opposite wall, yet still couldn't create enough distance between himself and the thing. He growled out of habit, the mask tilting slightly for a second.
Then, without warning, a gloved hand easily advanced and invaded his mouth. He immediately grabbed the wrist, but without claws or any strength to fight the iron grip, he couldn't push the invading hand away. He could feel the gloved fingers touching his teeth, checking their work for sure.
"No sharpness. They don't cut anything anymore." Maul grunted, tempted to shut his mouth and bite the bastard's hand off. But he doubted he would let that happen considering how far he'd gone with all this just to leave Maul defenseless. "These too."
Without even wiping his hand, the Sith lord touched his left frontal horn, as modified as the teeth. He held Maul's head, adjusting his fingers between the horns.
"What did you do?" Maul was surprised by how hoarse his own voice was. How long had he slept, no, how long had he made him sleep? The Sith merely shrugged.
"Guarantees. To make sure you wouldn't cause trouble." The Sith looked almost bored, pulling his hand from the Zabrak's weak grip. Maul's drool dripped between his fingers as he shifted his attention again, "But I didn't check that."
This time Maul manages to dodge the hand moving toward his right leg, but even without the Force, he can feel the pressure tightening around his throat. He knows the technique very well; that doesn't make him immune to it. Without hesitation, the Sith grabs Maul's leg and pulls him to the edge of the bed as he coughs. His attention focuses on the area damaged by both him and the Inquisitors.
"Mandalorian work, good but not the best." He presses on the area, and Maul can't suppress a whimper of pain. Whatever drug the Sith used on him wasn't strong enough to lessen the pain in his cybernetic limbs. He can feel the cold gaze on him, "You really feel pain in them. Puncture, impact, burns; it's a wide range of sensitivities."
"And what's it to you?" He growled between his grunts. A failed attempt to pull his leg back and move away, he wouldn't let go. "I thought Sidious wanted me dead. Why am I not then?"
"He does. And you seem to want it too, since you chose such a noble way to leave." Maul reflexively grimaced, a grimace the Sith didn't miss, "Or don't you remember what happened?"
They fought him, yes. Running through the forest and that kind of ancient, abandoned temple. The Inquisitors returned. Devon fought the crow, he and the master…
They weren't going to win. Maul knew they weren't going to win. The most they were doing was buying time, and even that wasn't much. Devon was under heavy attack. They kept taking more and more damage and for a second—for a second—
It was as if Maul returned to the sewers of Jânix. He saw them all. He saw Rook desperately trying to cling to the roots in the ground to avoid being pulled in. He saw Spybot calling to him before collapsing to the ground. He saw Icarus advancing through the hail of bullets that continued to fall upon him. He saw his mother pushing him away before Grievous arrived. He saw Scorn's last look, surprised, worried, weak. Just like his own. Just like Savage's last look—
Without a second thought, Maul single-handedly took the brunt of the Sith's lightsaber and pushed the Jedi Master as far as possible onto the bridge, and before he could return, he used all the Force he had left to shatter the rest of the bridge into rubble falling into the abyss. He would have yelled for the Jedi to go, but the Sith descended upon him with perhaps all the Force on his side.
And then Maul woke up here.
"That doesn't explain anything." He coughed again, his gaze watching for the moment the Sith loosened his grip to escape his grasp. "Sidious decided he wants to kill me now himself?"
"No. He sent me thinking the Inquisitors wouldn't be able to kill you." And they wouldn't. The Inquisitors wouldn't have been able to follow them through the forest. Maul could handle both of them; he would find a way to survive, he always did. "I'm the one who wants you alive."
He stops, staring at the black mask. Beneath it, there must be eyes similar to his. A sickly yellow and a circle of fire. Seeing his confusion, the Sith continues.
"You already know who I am, don't you?" Finally, he releases Maul's leg, the Zabrak shrinking back against the wall immediately. "I didn't answer you, but it wasn't necessary. You already knew back at the temple." Maul snorts; he'd known for a long time. He just took too long to connect him to what was there on the bridge.
"You are the new apprentice. The one he's been preparing all this time, his chosen one." For a moment he remembers the sewer again, a promise he made to just a reflection, but not now. This is not the time for that, "It would be difficult not to recognize you with the reputation you've built for yourself in the Clone Wars, Skywalker."
This time he doesn't use the Force, but a cold, mechanical hand that physically closes on Maul's throat, just above the collar. The Zabrak is pulled from the safety of the wall back to the Sith. He turns his face away as much as he can, avoiding looking at the mask. The Sith drags him and holds him as if he were weightless; Maul uses the limited mobility of his left leg to prevent himself from ending up in the damned being's lap.
"Anakin Skywalker is dead. I am what remains." Maul growls, trying to pull away only to lose the strength contest and slam against the metallic chest. The Sith grabs his chin to force him to look at him. "I am Darth Vader."
"Great. That doesn't answer my question." By the Force, that brute was pressing his throat harder than the collar! If Maul weren't so used to pain and deprivation, he would have already fainted. "What do you want?"
The Sith stares at him. Perhaps expecting more resistance regarding his identity. But Maul already knew, he knew from the moment he felt the inexplicably strong presence in the Force on Tatooine years ago, he knew his master wouldn't let this go. He knew that a slave boy being taught Jedi values was a ticking time bomb from the start. He already knew and didn't want to know anything more about the bastard who held him prisoner now.
"Since I became an apprentice, I've been residing on Mustafar." What news, Maul grew up on Mustafar. If it weren't for his mother's intermittent refusal to leave Dathomir, he'd imagine he was born in Sidious's fortress, "There are several signs of your passage there, of your life, your… studies."
"You'll get somewhere—"
"He taught you. The language, the past, the connection, the oaths. He taught you how to be a Sith. And you remember it all very well." Maul barks a laugh, he still can't pull away but at least the situation is becoming clearer now.
"I'm sorry to be the messenger, but our master hardly takes constructive criticism of his teaching methods—"
"No, he doesn't. He lies. He says he will, but he doesn't intend to teach me anything; he wants an enforcer, not another lord. Just as he wanted an assassin, not competition with you." Maul growls, the Sith ignores him. "Our knowledge is opposed, both of us incomplete in our learning to defeat him someday. And that's what he wants."
"Congratulations, you've discovered how the old man operates alone. That's not yet of interest to me—"
"But it is. Because you want revenge. And this is your chance for it." Maul fell silent. The icy, metallic fingers tightened on the edges of the collar. "You have the dark side, what it is to be a Sith. I have the Force, the ability. Together, sharing what we both know, Sidious will have no chance."
Maul would have laughed if it weren't for the absurdity of the situation and the fact that he was running out of air. A partnership, between Sith. Of course. He wanted to compensate for the inequalities Sidious had inflicted on him by using Maul, and most likely would kill him soon after achieving his goal. After all, betrayal was the norm among them; none of them would be good lords if they didn't know that.
"Help you? Oh, I don't see why I should do that instead of waiting for you two to destroy each other…"
"You have no choice." And unnecessarily, he tightened his grip on Maul's throat even more, at this point he could feel the abnormally cold breath directly on his face. "You were presumed dead, your surviving allies believe it. My Inquisitors believe it. Even Sidious. No one will come to save you."
Maul didn't remember how he lost; he knew the Sith hadn't stopped for a second. That he heard Devon scream, that he closed his eyes expecting that burning sensation of a lightsaber cutting skin again. He had already died once, and in a similar way; he hoped to be more ready this time.
The ship rocks, landing. Maul hears a loud buzzing sound as the Sith finally releases him and steps away. He doesn't understand what the ship's control is saying, but the temperature is rising, the cold infirmary being engulfed in heat as if they'd landed on a bonfire, no, hotter than bonfires, like—
"Where did you bring me?"
"To a place where I can keep an eye on you. You know it very well." Through the window, the lava rivers of Mustafar sang their infernal song and Maul couldn't breathe again, "Welcome back home, Maul."