a/n: Sorry for the delay – real life interfered in form of a cold.
Part 3: some salt in my wounds
"So", Obi-Wan said, hovering in the doorway as Khameir inspected the guest quarters assigned to him. "I figure you need some fresh clothes."
"It appears so." Khameir turned to look at him. The red in his eyes had receded somewhat.
"We could go and fetch some from supplies."
"Yes."
On their walk, Obi-Wan went into tour guide mode and explained whatever he knew about the area they were passing, and thus did a halfway decent job of distracting Khameir from the looks they were getting. The Temple had few black-clad, vividly tattooed visitors, but at least the news of a captured Sith had been kept safely under wraps. There was no telling how they'd react if they knew.
It looked like the quartermaster had her suspicions, she eyed the collar pointedly, but didn't comment.
"Size", she snapped, after Obi-Wan had explained the situation.
Khameir shrugged.
"Medium", she said, and turned to her dataset.
"Wait", Khameir said. He visibly shrank under her gaze, then Obi-Wan felt him working up the courage to continue. "No white, or cream, please."
She tssk-ed. "I'll have to see." She consulted the computer. "Hmm. Gray sound okay?"
"Yes."
"You using a pillow or a head rest?"
"Head- no, wait." Khameir paused and looked like his eyes would cross any second. "I'd like a pillow." Obviously that master of his had not cared for creature comforts.
"Tear-proof casing it is, then", she said, sounding as amused as Obi-Wan was.
They waited as she sent her order to the storage area and retreated into her office.
"No one would stare if you wore a Padawan uniform", Obi-Wan pointed out.
"I am not a Jedi."
"But you didn't like the stares you got."
"No."
Obi-Wan waited. Maybe more than the barely essential information would come forth, but it didn't. "You could try with the full reason", he finally prompted.
Khameir raised an eyebrow and held up a palm, which was black, expect for a pale ring that looked like a bite mark.. "Contrast", he said. "And I don't like earth tones."
"Mmh", Obi-Wan agreed. So, their new charge was just a little vain. "Did your Master make you get the tattoos?" No one in their right mind would have their palms tattooed, would they. And it would just fit to make Khameir even more of an outcast.
"No. They were my idea."
"Why?"
Khameir crossed his arms and evaded his eyes.
"Forget I asked", Obi-Wan said.
xxx
"How are you doing, Padawan?", Qui-Gon asked as Obi-Wan returned to their quarters.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Fine, Master. Why?"
"The Council just put you in charge of the care for a very disturbed person. While I don't doubt you will fulfill that task admirably, I still am concerned about how it affects you."
In other words, Qui-Gon Jinn was worried.
"Khameir is behaving strangely", Obi-Wan conceded. "I believe most of it is due to the inhibitor collar. Anyone would be jumpy with one." He plopped down on the couch next to Qui-Gon. "He really doesn't know how to carry on a conversation, though. And he actually asked for that tattoo."
"As I said, he is in need of some healing." Qui-Gon paused for a moment. "It would be very unfortunate if you believed you had to provide it. Or if you perceived yourself as a failure because of that."
Sighing, Obi-Wan leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I know I'm not a therapist, Master. But right now he's following me around like a lost puppy. I can't not feel responsible." The prospect was a little frightening. "I need to meditate."
"You will have sit upright for that", Qui-Gon said, amusedly.
With another sigh, Obi-Wan went in search for a nice spot on the floor.
xxx
Maul stared at the ceiling. The Council had told him to rest, so he had decided to try out the bed, but he wouldn't be able to sleep even if he wanted to. Too many things needed to be thought through… if Darth Sidious would believe the Council's ruse, what kind of training they had in mind for him… and then there were the memories.
It wasn't exactly Kenobi's fault that they had crept up from somewhere deep in Maul's mind, but the padawan kept picking at the emerging tendrils with an uncanny precision. Any mind healer would be able to grab them and drag them up fully, so Maul hoped the Jedi wouldn't bother with one. He didn't particularly want to remember.
Sometime later, there was a knock on the door. Kenobi had promised to pick him up for the evening meal.
"Hey", the padawan said, and then proceeded to gaze at Maul's bare feet. They were tattooed, too, although Maul failed to see why that surprised Kenobi.
"Isn't it considered rude to stare?", he asked. No lightning came forth, but it was so easy to forget that.
"Sorry, Khameir. I've just never seen anyone with tattoos that extensive. It's… a lot of people will wonder how far down they go."
Yes. Of course they would. It was the one thing Maul hadn't considered when designing them. He didn't answer the unspoken question and collected his boots and the black neckerchief the quartermaster had thoughtfully added to his new outfit.
xxx
Dinner had been… uncomfortable. Kenobi had made him sit with some of his friends in the mess hall. They had been curious, but Kenobi and he had been told to keep quiet about his origins for the time being, and there weren't many other topics for conversation, so Maul had found himself listening, which had suited him fine, but seemed to have at least the human girl, Siri, on edge.
Maul suspected he should get used to it, because one day everyone here would know what he was. Still, it was better than being dead.
Now they were sitting in the quarters Kenobi shared with his Master, waiting for the broadcast of a press conference on the holonet. Currently, the news were on, but Maul preferred to look out of the apartment's window. It looked west, and the orange glow of the setting sun outlined the Coruscant skyline. Gray clouds hung low above the buildings like stranded starships… an image from the end of days.
Next to him, Kenobi moved. Maul stopped drumming his fingers on the armrest.
"Not interested in politics?", Kenobi asked finally.
"I'm just admiring the view."
"Hmm." The padawan stared for a minute. "One shouldn't get used to it, I suppose, but I did anyway."
Maul shrugged. Getting used to things was the only way to ever get things done.
"So you're not addicted to the net like other people."
There was an insinuation in that statement Maul didn't like. "There are more interesting things one can do in their free time."
It took Kenobi a while to digest the information. "You have a hobby?"
"Not quite." A hobby was an activity people took up to pass the time or to produce pretty or useful things… it didn't quite cover Maul's pressing need to ban images from his mind on canvas. "I paint."
"Cool", Kenobi said. "I'm completely useless when it comes to art."
"I have no idea if one could call my attempts art."
"I'm surely the wrong person to ask. You could get colors and stuff from supplies, you know."
Maul hummed an assent.
The press conference was disappointing in its banality. The fat human inspector blinked at the cameras, and gave a short speech about finding the culprit, who had, alas, been killed in an escape attempt. Since the arrested person had been underage, they wouldn't disclose any more information. Then he proceeded to thank the Jedi profusely.
Thus the Sith apprentice died. It was quite a relief.
xxx
The next morning brought an end to Maul's Force-blindness and a headache of major proportions, as he had dreaded. Some blood vessel in his left temple had decided now that the stress was over, it could swell to ten times of its original size and make his life hell. Using his hate and anger had never worked well on it, mostly because he had a hard time deciding who he should be angry at. He had mentioned that to his Master once, who had told him it was a hereditary disease called migraine and to try harder. It hadn't worked, but he'd found that it was possible to ignore the pain if he only was distracted enough.
Maul rubbed his temple and concentrated on the quiz the Council had presented him with to determine what he needed to learn. Most of it was easy, history, basic astrophysics and navigation, foreign languages, the Republic's constitution and current political climate. They also asked him for a two hundred word comment on the inscription above the door to the Jedi Council chamber. He knew what it said, of course, one had to know their enemy after all… but he didn't understand why someone would strive for such a life. Agonizing over it a little, he decided to be honest. They wouldn't kill him for that, no matter how much they disliked his opinions.
He handed the datapad back to Master Windu, who took it and told him to be back in two hours.
xxx
"They're giving you a place for yourself?", Obi-Wan asked as they discussed the Council's decision over lunch. He refrained from expressing his slight jealousy.
Khameir shrugged. It looked more deliberate now that he was rid of the collar, and whatever emotions he had were safely hidden behind a wall. That wall was impressive… there was no trace of darkness in Khameir's aura at all. If he didn't look so demonic, one would never peg him as a Sith, or ex-Sith.
"I would have assumed they wanted you under constant supervision."
"It wouldn't help much, I believe. As Master Yoda commented: 'hard to see the Dark Side is'. They will never be able to read me unless I allow them in."
Obi-Wan swallowed. Khameir hadn't meant that as a threat. It was merely a statement of fact.
"You could just up and leave now", he realized.
"Yes."
"So why are you still here?"
Khameir rubbed his left temple. "Think, Kenobi. Even if I wasn't a prisoner here and wouldn't have the entire Order as well as my old Master on my heels if I fled, I'd stand no chance. One weird looking teenager, alone, with no money or identification. My only hope would be hiring on with some syndicate in Coco town, and maybe work my way up from there."
"It would be right up the alley your training took you." Obi-Wan wouldn't complain about being called 'Kenobi'. He kind of liked it, actually.
"Yes." Khameir stopped for a moment, rubbing his temple again. "I know. I just think that it wouldn't mean anything."
"Excuse me?"
"Having people crawl at your feet because they are afraid. It's not really a challenge…"
Obi-Wan nodded and decided to let it drop. Some things were just too disturbing to think about.
xxx
"Sit", Master Windu said and indicated a chair in front of his desk. Maul did as told.
"Master Billaba agreed to teach you Jedi philosophy."
One of those masters who had been invited to watch Maul being quizzed by the Council and as he had given them an idea what his lightstaff could be used for. A lady in an orange robe, if he remembered correctly. Maul nodded his agreement. It would work.
"Also, we would like you to teach your fighting technique."
"I have never taught before."
"We are aware of that and would find you suitable students."
"I will try."
Master Windu smirked, as if remembering a joke, then leaned back and watched Maul over steepled fingers. "There is also another issue. Generally, all twelve year olds here get a sexual education class."
Maul blinked. "I am aware of the mechanics."
"Good. I think you know that we do not encourage any form of attachment. We wouldn't like to see anyone hurt because you ignored that part of our code."
Maul rubbed his left temple, his headache had just increased ten-fold. They were just worried about their padawans; he couldn't begrudge them that, even if he didn't understand their reasoning. They weren't trying to dig up the memories on purpose. "I understand. It will not be a problem."
The rest of the conversation passed in a blur – Maul remembered being grilled about the place near Lake Park, but couldn't begin to care – then Maul went back to his newly assigned quarters, where he crawled into his bed, pulled the covers over his head and let himself drift off.
xxx
Someone was pounding on the door. Maul considered to wait them out, but they didn't stop, so he finally crawled out of bed and went to answer. The sky that was visible from his window was the typical orange glow of a Coruscant night.
Maul's wake-up call was being delivered by Kenobi, who looked downright relieved when he finally opened the door.
"You missed dinner", the padawan said. "And you look like – well, not good."
"I won't faint at profanities. And I have a headache."
"Uh. That was why you kept rubbing your head? Why didn't you go to the healers?"
"Pain killers don't work." He had tried.
"What about Force healing?"
Maul shrugged. "Doesn't work either."
Kenobi chewed his lower lip for a moment. "You mean Dark Side Force healing."
"Yes." Maul rolled his eyes.
"What about a Light Side approach?"
"I don't know."
"Well, if I …", Kenobi reached out to him. Maul took a step backwards and fell into a defensive crouch. He forced himself to breathe as the padawan looked at him as if he'd just grown a second head.
"Sorry. I just thought that I could take care of it. I'd have to touch you for it, though."
Stupid. Maul could take out Kenobi and most knights here without breaking into a sweat, so he shouldn't react like this. It was his body that wouldn't get used to the situation, even if there was a chance to get rid of the headache before tomorrow morning.
"Come in", he said.
Kenobi inspected the apartment for a moment, something Maul had been too preoccupied to do yet. "It's probably better to sit down."
So they sat, on the couch, which was beige and quite soft, Kenobi facing Maul and chewing his lip again.
"I won't bite", Maul finally said. Now that he knew what was coming, there was no reason to freak, at all. So what if no one had touched him in years? Still it felt like there were millions of small insects crawling under his scalp and down his neck, and his stomach went into a knot in anticipation.
Kenobi nodded and placed his fingertips on Maul's temples. They were warm and dry, resting there without any pressure. The tingling feeling of Force healing joined the insects and slowly nudged his veins back into behaving. Maul closed his eyes and hoped Kenobi wouldn't be finished too soon.
"Better now?"
"Yes", Maul said, and opened his eyes again to find Kenobi peering at him curiously. The warmth of the fingertips vanished, and Maul forced himself not to react in any way.
"Good." Kenobi grinned. "You should consult the healers, though. Maybe there is something you could take to prevent the attacks."
Maul shrugged. They weren't all that frequent to warrant stuffing himself with some drug.
"There's some things I need to talk to you about. First, um, news have gotten out. Everyone knows you're here by the Council's invitation, but that won't stop anyone staring…"
"Yes." It had been inevitable. Maul had survived worse.
"And second, Qui-Gon and I will be leaving for a mission tomorrow. Some trouble over an election on Neimodia."
"You don't seem pleased."
Kenobi shrugged. "I think my Master asked for it to get me away from you a little. And it's probably going to be negotiations, which means I'll be useless."
Maul didn't know what to say. He had no idea what was going on in Qui-Gon Jinn's mind, and wouldn't try to find out.
"Why would you be useless?"
"Not enough experience", Kenobi sighed. "Anyway, it just bugs me that he thinks you're a bad influence on me."
"I could be", Maul pointed out. "You are questioning your Master's decision."
Kenobi grinned. "Yes. I do that frequently. So I guess I already am corrupted."
Maul shrugged, he wasn't quite sure if he had meant his comment to be funny.