Chapter 1
The place where Jedi go to die, that was what Mustafar was called. It was hellish world, Plo Koon thought. The Force was thin h
The warbling alert chime drew the Zabrak out of his slumber and he leveled a disgruntled scowl at the comm on the flight console in front of him. His pilot seat was more often than not his bed, and to be disturbed was beyond aggravating. He unfolded himself from the chair, which wasn’t that hard as he wasn’t a very tall man, spine and joints popping as he stirred.
Maul leveled a glare at his chrono. Only two hours.
But then he quietly scolded himself. What if it was Mace? Or Depa? Those two, he never minded being awoken by.
And as if making a point to display his very thoughts, the universe conspired to have Depa Billaba’s face bloom to life from his holo-projector. “Maul! I’m so glad you’re in range…. where are you?”
Maul grinned. Depa was one of two favorite people in the galaxy that Maul allowed himself to drop his callous, aloof mask for. She’d been there since the beginning, after all. He missed, sometimes, the early days of just him, Mace and Depa. Quite tea tastings by the fire, crawling into Depa’s bed when the nightmares came. Jedi weren’t supposed to be family. But they were his.
Or as close to it as someone like Maul could have.
“I am near Tatooine. I picked up a distress signal after that last mission to Savareen and hauled a derelict transport into port at a ring station.” Then he realized through his sleep haze… Depa had been trying to reach him. “Why have you been trying to reach me?” he yawned, stretching to help wake himself up faster.
“Mace doesn’t want me to discuss across space.” She glances aside. “Will you come… come home?”
Maul resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Coruscant was not home. Not for him. And despite his affection for them, Depa and Mace weren’t either.
But now wasn’t the time to argue that. Or remind Depa why. She knew why. And it pained her.
“It will be a day or so of travel. But yes. I will come… is Mace alright?”
Depa tilted her head and then waved a hand. “Oh, yes, he’s fine. I’m sorry. That sounded more reactionary than I meant it to.” She smiled warmly at him. “It will be good to see you again.”
“I will comm you when I arrive. You will need to collect me.”
“He’s been at it for an hour.”
Plo Koon watches the tiny Zabrak, clean now but not wearing a stitch, run in circles around his protective enclosure. There was a bed. A place to relieve himself privately. A container of toys. A holo projector. But the boy, Maul just ran. He ran all day, every day. Until he couldn’t. After the Zabrak youngling collapsed and slowly regained enough strength, he did push ups. Crunches. Stood on his head. Anything to burn energy. Any food or water brought to him, little Maul devoured. And then, usually, full and exhausted, the boy lost consciousness for a few hours. Sleep was the only peace the boy knew. The only peace he allowed himself to know.
“This behavior is conditioned. Must be.” Ki-Adi-Mundi stroked his beard, twirling the new length below his chin around a finger. “It is a wonder the boy has not expired just today due to his own relentlessness.”
They watched as the red feet stumbled and the boy fell, hard, landing so that his chin cracked against the floor. Even with the carpet, the bump was enough to send a bright splash of oxygen-rich blood across the floor. Little Maul gave a pained groan and then jumped up, eyeing them with naked terror on his face.
He didn’t speak though. Not a word. He just watched. And waited. The two Jedi hurried to grab the standard med kit that nearly every room in the Temple possessed.
The Zabrak gave a startled gasp as the light walls of his enclosure hissed out and then he was cringing back from them, teeth bared in defiance as they both tried to coax him over to tend his busted chin.
“Li… little one. Come now. You trusted me on Mustafar, come now. I will not hurt you,” Koon tutted.
Maul’s chest heaved in rapid, terrified gasps. “N-not hurt? You not…” He winced, curling in on himself as if bracing to be struck. “How do I know you will not hurt me?” the boy asked, his diction crisp and proper despite his obvious fear. “The Man hurts me.”
“The Man isn’t here, Maul. We just want to fix your chin.” Mundi smiled, hoping his assurances would sink in.
“Deenine fixed me. It hurt.” The boy was shaking now. So hard his knees made bony thumps as they knocked against one another.
“It might burn a little. But it will fade. Better that than bleeding all over yourself. Maybe we can get you into something warm? Can… can you dress yourself, Maul?”
The little Zabrak’s eyes glanced down at himself, at the tattoos clawing over his chest and stomach, down to his toes. “Never… I-I only wore what you took from me.”
“Alright. Well. We can teach you. For now,” Plo Koon shrugged out of his robe and draped it carefully around Maul. This seemed to calm him. Then Plo remembered he’d done this on Mustafar. Ah. A positive memory. Perhaps the only positive memory.
He reached out with the Force, not wanting to frighten, but brushed gently against the Zabrak’s mind. Maul shuddered, his eyes getting bright. “What is that?” he asked quietly, touching a bloody hand to his temple.
“That is the Force, little one. It is your friend. Learn to trust it.” Ki-Adi-Mundi poured some astringent onto a sterile pad and handed it to Koon. The Zabrak’s sharp little hands clutched into fists while the Jedi bathed away the blood and Maul’s tears slipped out, sliding down his sunken cheeks.
“Brave little one,” Koon encouraged gently, pressing a bacta patch to the wound. “Brave, brave. You did so well. See? It is over. All done.”
And that was exactly when the little Zabrak shoved out with his hands. A powerful blast of Force energy struck both Jedi solidly in the chest, sending Koon hurtling back against the wall, and Ki-Adi-Mundi was flung into the container of toys inside the enclosure.
Maul tore away from them, feet blurring as he called on the power of his fear to propel him forward. He wanted out. Out out out out out. This place felt so strange. It wasn’t dark or cold or quiet. There was light everywhere and noise from outside and he wasn’t… he didn’t know. Was he supposed to do something here that would make The Man pleased? Was he watching him? Was he looking for him?
That thought filled Maul with a terror beyond coherent thought. He had to get out. Get far away. Hide. Hide hide hide hide.
Maul’s feet slipped out from under him, tangling in the huge robe still swaddled about him, as he turned a corner. A tall… person with towering head tails and long montrals gasped, shocked by his sudden appearance. Their face was red and white and the growths on their head were blue and white. Pretty, Maul might’ve thought, had he not been so scared. He scrambled to his feet, darting between the person’s legs.
A long corridor stretched before him, with incredibly tall pillars and soft carpets. And a light, the outside, at the end. Maul made a beeline for it. He ran harder than he ever had; he’d never been able to just run like this in an open space before. His hearts flew, free and wild, and the little boy’s face split into a wide grin at the feeling.
Until an arm appeared out of nowhere and hauled the boy clean off the ground. He thrashed wildly, kicking and hissing fiercely as large hands repositioned him. And then Maul found himself being observed by two steady, black eyes.
He froze. He was supposed to stop. Maul knew that look. No nonsense. No trifling. Be still.
Maul obeyed, breath caught in his throat.
But then a warm, soft feeling seemed to rise up over him, gentle but persistent. It was the man holding him, Maul knew that, somehow. He wouldn’t hurt Maul. He just wanted Maul to be alright. Be safe. Rest. No hurt. It was going to be alright.
All these things, Maul suddenly knew like he knew his hearts were beating.
“Hello Maul. I’ve heard about you,” the dark-skinned man said with a little smile. “My name is Mace. You look really tired, little man. Have you had something to eat today?”
Maul gaped at him. He’d never seen this man but the way he talked to Maul… Maul didn’t want him to stop. “No. No sir.”
“Why were you running just now?”
Mace nodded. He was bald. Like Maul. Maul’s curiosity got the better of him and he reached up, putting a hand on top of Mace’s scalp. “No horns…”
There was a depth to the laugh that Mace had that rumbled from his chest to Maul’s. Warm. Warm. Everything about this man was warm. Maul had lived on a planet constantly burning, and yet inside, he’d always been cold. So alone and cold. But right now, his hands resting on the Jedi’s chest, safe in strong arms… the cold was barely there.
“I’m a human, Maul. You are a Zabrak. My species doesn't have horns.” He reached up with one finger and tapped the tip of it to Maul’s nose. He giggled, swiping his hand over his nose and then covering his mouth. “No, you can laugh. It’s good to laugh, Maul. Shall we get some breakfast? Just you and me?”
Mace grinned; his teeth were very white. “Yes. I will make something for you to eat. And you can meet my Padawan. She slept in today. We can wake her up.”
