A/N: 'Lo again! Nosta-Logic here with chapter eighteen of this pathetically anal story, and many excuses as to why I have not updated in, like, one-thousand years. One: Finals. No explanations needed. Two: I left for the better part of Christmas vacation to head on down to Juarez, Mexico for a mission trip with my lovely friend, Guardian-Angel-07, who also writes on you're a fan of Harry Potter, like myself, you may just want to take a look at her newest fanfiction, and leave her a heartwarming review! Three: If my computer was human, it would be retarded. Really F.U.B.A.R. Anyway, I'm sure you've all had enough of my non-con running mouth, so here's the latest installation of My Lonely!

Chapter Eighteen:

"No need to be angry there is. Come here only to talk I have, Darth Kalskein, hm." Yoda said in his froglike voice. Maul closed his eyes respectively, trying to find the strength to speak.

"There is... nothing to talk about..." He rasped, voice barely usable after being slit. He closed his eyes, and grimaced in pain. Those were the first words he'd spoken in a long time.

Yoda said nothing for a long moment, but the Sith could hear his noisy shuffling as he drew closer to the window.

"Angry you are with yourself. Angry you are with us. Scared you are to trust." The small alien tapped his cane once on the ground, and stared wisely into Maul's gaunt, haggard face. The Sith could do nothing. He could say nothing. He could only stand there like an idiot, unable to meet the gaze of his master's arch nemesis, trembling like some weak little child. Speeders whizzed by his window, every one of them occupied by some person who had it off better than he did right now. Silently, he imagined that he was one of those people, going home to a family, starting the late shift at their job, heading off to the bar...

"Thrown into jail you will not be, Sith. Only one who knows of your arrival I am, and keep you safe we will, hm." The jedi master nodded as if agreeing with himself. Maul continued to stare out the window, his lips set in a thin line, and his eyes emotionless. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to drown in self-pity. He was tired of people using him like some worthless toy and pretending to care about him when all they were doing was weakening his walls. He was tired.

So tired...

The hand upon the window clenched. Maul could not have been more frustrated, and confused. The frighteningly new feelings plaguing him with awful memories... everything he had ever been... everything he had lived to become... his life...

It was all a lie...

Sidious was not his mentor anymore. Sidious had erased everything, and replaced it with false memories. Sidious had trained him, worked him, hit him, told him how worthless he was, and could amount to nothing. And to counter everything he had done to hurt Maul, he said that the Jedi were ten times worse. The Jedi were senseless pigs, sitting on their royal thrones with upturned chins and fleeing at the first sign of danger. The Jedi were arrogant, uncaring; the commonwealth were like dogs to them. The Jedi would not wait a moment before they saw an evil put to death, and yet here he was... cared for in the most gentle of mannerisms... the girl he had tried to shun that lonely night as he sat cold, broken, and hopeless in his cell... she lay sleeping not ten feet from him.

"How long... have I been here?" Maul whispered without looking at Yoda. The hand was now clenched skintight.

"Three days now." The master replied calmly, also sparing a glance at his counterpart. "Unsuccessful the doctors have been in beginning the treatment to your leg, hm. Flush the remainder of poison from your body they must. Gives numbness to the pain it causes with the medicines, yes." He paused to look at the Sith with his old eyes.

"In pain you are."

Maul did not respond. He knew that Yoda was referring not only to his physical pain, but his mental pain as well, and it bothered him that the Jedi was reading him like an open book. Naturally, he upped his defenses and struggled to stand up straight, but the movement did not bear well with his back, and he only ended up agonizing himself further.

Dear God, three minutes on his feet, and he was already prepared to pass out.

Yoda said nothing more. His green eyes moved to the bustle outside, and watched intently, as if the conversation they had just shared never happened. Maul imagined Anamaria waking up from her peaceful slumber (Lord knew she needed it), and finding the two greatest enemies to ever walk the galaxy side-by-side; one leaning against the wall like a drunken idiot, and a midget jedi master staring out the window like a turkey in the rain.

What a laugh.

The Sith knew what she would do. First, she'd stare at them for about two minutes, debating whether or not they were communicating telepathically, then she'd clear her throat once. Twice. Then, when the maternal worry set in, she'd ask in that damnably soft voice of hers why he'd gotten out of bed, look at Yoda, and, to attempt conversation, greet him honorably, come stand next to them, and suggest that Maul return to his uncomfortable (though tolerable) hospital bed. When he wouldn't answer, she'd put her hand on his (and he had just realized this) topless shoulder, he'd get those strange chills, and, like a dog to the master, he'd follow her off to his cot.

Why?

Why did he allow himself to be controlled by a little girl, the likes of which he could easily destroy without having to use an ounce of the force? Why did he enjoy it when she ran her fingers across his ebony flesh? Why did she have a power over him that dominated even his own master's?

"Kalaskein? Master Yoda?"

Oh boy.

She had awoken.

"Kalaskein... y-you're awake already...!"

He winced. Yep those drugs would be wearing off right about now.

"The doctors said you wouldn't be up for another two days..."

What the hell did she expect?! Living a life of luxury was not his forte after being subjected to enough butt-rape to put even Jabba the Hutt to shame! It was only natural that his reactive thought process kicked in early after being tortured for so long.

Yoda chuckled softly.

"You should rest... they haven't been able to remove the poison from your body yet..."

He could hear her come up close to him, and he fought with every fibre of every molecule of strength he had left to abstain the trembling in his legs.

Or... at least the one that worked.

"Whelp, I-" His angry retort was cut off by a violent wave of pain that ripped through his back like a thousand-degree sword. Before he knew it, his grip on the window had ceased, and he was sinking to the floor in a shivering,bleedingmess. He tried hard to refrain from screaming, he really did, but the pain was nearly unbearable, and he could not restrain the shuddering gasp that tore from his lips.

What the hell was going on?

"Kalaskein!" Anamaria rushed to his side immediately, but Yoda did not seem surprised at all.

Maul's bandaged hands struggled to claw into the wall, but to no avail. His arms spasmed, and shook like leaflets in a hurricane, and he found that it was becoming increasingly difficult to see through such blistering hot agony.

"Hlp..." He whimpered like a lost child.

Such... pain. So excruciating, he could control nothing. It tore at his mind, ripped at his body; he forgot everything. Knew nothing but this agony that fed upon his being like a vulture to a carcass, and, like the carcass, he could do nothing to stop it. Nothing but give in. So he did. He let it envelope his mind in white, screaming, hot. There was nothing left anymore. No time, no place, nobody, no thought. No relief. Only laughter. Hardmockingviciouslaughter.

Who was he?

Then dark.

A/N: God, my savior, I appeal to you in this time of need, upon which if this fandom be of any disappointment to these humble reviewers, that you give them the peace they desire to restrain their homicidal tendencies, and to not KILL, MURDER, OBLITERATE ME!

...um... amen.

I SWEAR THAT THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE HERE BEFORE THE END OF FEBRUARY, AND YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED.