Author's Note: Poor Caleb. He's been having such a rough go of it lately. Still nothing compared to Order 66 though XD Can't really top that! I'm making sure to post bright and early(ish) on this fine Saturday, as we're currently experiencing *another* freaking snowstorm and could lose power at any moment. Anyway. Enjoy!
Caleb had no awareness of the passage of time. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, and unfortunately, acutely aware of his pain. The bounty hunters had seen to that.
Sometimes snippets of conversation made it through whatever drug had been in that needle. Like the fact that his head felt so woozy and his limbs were impossible to move because he wasn't the first Force user they had "transported". Apparently keeping his kind drugged was a normal tactic, so he was never able to regain the use of the Force and possibly break free.
It was horrible. He couldn't believe he'd been so arrogant to think he could take on an unknown number of enemies, of unknown skill, all without his lightsaber. And because of that failing, he was now on his way to becoming a performing slave… for the rest of his life.
All this and more he contemplated, handcuffed to the ceiling of a far smaller and grimier cell than Maul's. The drug was brutal on his system. He could barely think, his vision was clouded, and try as he might he couldn't call upon the Force to drive away the fog in his brain. His limbs were heavier than he'd ever felt. No matter how he attempted to get them to listen, they refused to move. There was nothing he could do, except hang there.
They never closed and locked the cell door - probably because they didn't see him as a flight risk - so even though he could see nothing but hazy outlines and shapes, he was able to watch a lot of their daily activities.
A cycle quickly established itself. The drug would start to wear off, he'd be given some food and water, then another prick, and he'd lose track of everything. No sights, no sounds, nothing. Until it started to wear off again. And repeat.
He couldn't have told you how many times this cycle got repeated, since the drug left him in a pain-filled dreamland, but it seemed to be quite a lot. Every so often he might get blindsided by a fist to the gut, his cracked ribs screaming in pain. He never really knew what was going to happen.
Until one day, everything went sideways.
He was just coming out of the first part of the cycle, his vision turning from dark to light, when an alarm went off. Then another. And another. Soon he heard booted feet pounding on the floor, voices raised in alarm. He could hear the sound of shots being fired, but one by one the voices went silent. Soon the shots stopped altogether. He tried to lift his head, open his mouth to croak, help! But it was no use. He was on the wrong end of the drug's cycle.
Suddenly a red blur flew past the door, followed by a yellow one, and the sounds of fire intensified for a brief second before everything went still.
He flinched as something brushed against him, and he felt familiar sharp nails caress his cheek.
"Don't think we're letting you go that easy, little Jedi," the voice of the Zabrak hissed in his ear.
He might've been angry at being called "little"... if his ears hadn't immediately been distracted by a different sound.
Clunk. Clunk. Clank. Clunk.
A red blur appeared in the doorway, and the Zabrak clutched him tighter.
"Back off, son of Dathomir! The prize is mine."
Caleb felt the sharp jab of the needle in his neck, just as the red blur flew towards him. There was a shriek in his ear and the hand gripping his chin slipped away.
His lungs drew in a ragged breath as the needle's contents began to take effect. A full dose on top of an almost-full dose? He never stood a chance.
He thought for sure he had died when he felt cold hands grip his face, and his head was lifted to see - rather blurry - eyes he'd thought he would never see again.
The last thing he heard before everything went dark was, "Oh, Padawan. I tried to warn you."
The first thing he was aware of was cold. He was freezing, his skin felt like it was turning to ice, as he tried to burrow into the fur that was tickling his face. A cold hand pressed against his cheek as something hot trickled down his throat. He felt better after that, but exhaustion came for him, instead. Deep, dreamless sleep took him under.
The next time, he was able to open his eyes.
His lashes stuck to his skin as he blinked, slowly, wincing at the light after the darkness of the other ship. Though he had a feeling it wasn't actually that bright. Where was he now? Had he been sold already?
He tried to put a hand to his aching head, but it didn't obey. Fear rose up in him instead. His hand. Why wouldn't it move? He tried the other one, then both his feet. Nothing moved an inch. In his head he was railing, thrashing against whatever bonds were holding him captive, sick of his movements being restricted, of his choices and freedoms being stolen away. But none of it translated to the real world. Using every scrap of fear and anger he could muster, he managed to tilt his head the slightest bit, finally able to look down the length of his body. And had to fight back the urge to be sick. Oh, Force. Am I… paralyzed?
For there were no restraints holding him back.
Panic gripped him tight. His breath came haltingly, his nostrils flared. Attempting to gain control of the one thing he still could, he thought, Pull it together Caleb. You are a Jedi of the Republic, and Jedi do not give in to fear. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no… no death, there is the-the Force. He stifled a sob. Where was the Force? He couldn't sense it, couldn't feel it filling his being, his brain, his body with it's all-consuming light. Was this still just the drug? How can I be a Jedi if I don't have the Force? And right when he was sure he might start crying after all… Maul sat down on the bed beside him and placed two fingers on his forehead.
Caleb felt waves of calm flow over his mind. He closed his eyes, his breaths slowly evening out.
"There. That's better, isn't it? What had you in such a state, Padawan?"
He answered hoarsely. "Can't… move."
"Oh, not to worry," came the immediate reply. "Simply an effect of the drug currently purging from your system. It will come in time."
But there was more Caleb wanted to know. "How… long?"
Maul's expression darkened. "Four days."
He shut his eyes in dismay.
"Four days you were gone. I tried to warn you of the danger of leaving my side, but you didn't listen. Perhaps you will now."
Caleb tried very hard to make sense of his emotions. He felt confused. On the one hand, Maul had held him against his will for over a week, and done nothing but decry his way of life and everything he'd ever believed in. On the other hand, at the bare bones of it, Maul had warned him against leaving - in a manner of speaking - and Caleb had ignored him. And that decision had had horribly painful consequences. To make it all worse, Maul and Savage had rescued him. From what little he remembered of the event, he was almost certain that Maul had massacred the whole crew. And while they'd been ready to sell him into slavery, his Jedi teachings wouldn't let him look at the situation in such black and white terms: they'd been people just trying to make their way in the universe as best they knew how. From what he knew of the larger galaxy, people like that had usually grown up with very little choice about where their futures would take them. He knew Maul would have him hate them, despise them… Caleb could feel the pull now to give into the pain his wounds caused him, the fear the hunters had produced in him and to despise the ones who had done this to him. How dare they attack and detain a Jedi, a Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic!
But Caleb's rising ire cooled at the nagging thought that came to him in the voice of his Master. It was that sort of thinking that led you to them in the first place.
He didn't have it in him.
Maul didn't know that yet.
"Yeesss. I can feel the conflict within you. You tried so hard to be a good little Padawan. You resisted my words for so long, refused my offers of friendship every day. You ignored my words of warning… and look where it got you."
He tried to block out the sound of Maul's voice by picturing his Master's face. But that just made him more homesick than ever. Despite his best efforts, a single tear squeezed out from beneath his closed lid.
"I know. It's been a trying day. You will need your rest if you're to regain the use of your limbs; and if we're to finally finish our talks."
He managed to shake his head at the words. He was done being manipulated. His will was crumbling.
"No," he whispered.
"You forget I can sense how muddied your thoughts of the Jedi are. But I will not press the issue today. What you need now… is rest."
His eyes flew open, and he shook his head violently at the sight of the two fingers descending to his forehead again. No, not again, he was done, done not having agency over his body! His own time!
"No, no," he protested feebly. "Please-"
"Sleeeeep," Maul's voice crooned, and Caleb's eyes closed with no instruction from him. He sank deep into varied nightmares.
Author's Notes: Thanks for hanging on this long with me folks! There's much more yet to come. And thanks for the kudos, and favourites!