III

Darth Maul figured he had been dozing for no more than 20 minutes or so. And by that time he was ready to kill something. He was bored. He was losing patience, although that wasn't uncommon for him. Being confined to the bed was driving him mad and he needed to get out. He wasn't used to being stuck somewhere without the ability to move around. Even if it meant getting the crap beaten out of him, he would much rather be back on Coruscant where he lived and trained, unless he was out on a mission.

The world outside the room he was in looked like it was starting to greet the night. The sky was turning a magnificent mix of orange and red colors. Twilight was probably the one time of the day he actually enjoyed, for reasons he kept to himself. It reminded him of his missions, of the purpose he was who he was. And being in such a place where he was allowing himself to rely on a weak, human female was not acceptable to his identity.

Determined that he would not fail because he was wounded—after all, a Sith does not fail—Maul threw off the sheets and achingly pulled his body to turn so his legs could hang over the edge and his bare feet could touch the hard floor. His boots, he noticed, sat by the door. He gave himself a moment to gather his energy before pushing himself up with his hands. He stumbled forward, his legs weak from nonuse. Holding the edge of the counter in front of him, he pushed himself high enough where he could maintain some balance. The door wasn't that far away...he was a Sith, trained in many things, skilled with a variety of fighting methods…walking to a door was nothing.

He wished he had listened to his practical side as he let go of the counter and started to move forward. He didn't remember hurting this much when he was making his way through the Palace in Theed. Then again, he was probably having such an adrenaline rush that he didn't notice much else except making it to his ship. It didn't matter though—as soon as he gathered his things he'd be able to leave…

Then something dawned on him. He quickly looked around the room and opened the top drawer of the counter. His lightsaber was nowhere to be found. He could've sworn he picked it up and brought it with him; unless it was still in the ship. He hoped to the ancient Sith that it was still in the ship.

Maul was only a few steps more from the door now. He was about to bend forward and reach for his boots when she appeared in the doorway. "What in the world are you doing?" She cried out, putting the tray of food she brought on the table in the corner. "You're insane!"

"Get away," Maul ordered harshly when she put her hands on his good arm, trying to hold him up and pull him back to the bed.

"Stop it," she lectured back, "you don't honestly think you can manage this?"

"I said get away!" Maul snapped, but between the two of them pulling—him trying to free his arm, her trying to pull him with it, they both lost their footing and stumbled down. The Zabrak landed in the cushioned chair, the human on the floor.

Naturri quickly picked herself up and pulled up the top of her shirt a little and adjusted her skirt. "Now do you understand you need to rest?"

Maul shot her his flaming yellow eyes and growled; "There was no problem until you came in here!" He held up his hand, his face full of anger and hatred towards her. Naturri grabbed at her neck quickly, gasping for air as her feet left the ground. Maul sat forward, his eyes digging into her own brown ones, his use of the dark side of the Force choking her the more he brought his fingers together.

"Please…stop…" She tried to get out, suffocation beginning to take its toll. Tears started to flood her eyes and trail down her brownish cheeks. "I…beg…please…"

Maul had never shown mercy on anyone; but he was beginning to wonder if he was indeed capable of managing on his own at this point. His mind finally admitted that he did have trouble just getting to where he sat now, no less getting to his ship or any city—wherever they might be.

He decided to spare her this one time, mentally noting to her to let this be a warning, whether she heard him or not. Naturri fell to the floor in a heap, her lungs forcing her to gasp for as much air as she could, tears dropping to the floor as she stared down at it.

Maul did nothing except lean back in the chair to relax his sore muscles. He watched her contently, seeing someone for the first time survive his attack and how they reacted to it. He gave her no expression as she inclined her head to him, fear racing through her eyes.

"What are you…?" She asked after she gained back most of her normal breathing.

Maul didn't answer as she stood up and backed away from him. Maybe now she would see that he was not someone to fool with. He was more powerful than her and now she realized that his mind capabilities made up for his wounded body.

Naturri moved sideways and sat on the far end corner of the bed, her gaze keeping a close watch on him. Maul sensed her fear, but also her confusion. He gave a small smile to himself as he thought of what was running through her mind. She was convinced since she saved me that I needed her help. Now she sees that she's the one that needs the saving.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. She looked down at the bed, tears still finding their way out of her eyes. "I…I didn't mean to upset you." Maul still said nothing, although watching her cry made him sick—crying was a sign of weakness.

There was more silence, but neither changed their position or expression. Finally, though, Naturri looked up, but didn't make eye contact with the stranger. "You're a Jedi…aren't you?"

Maul wanted to lash out and tell her how disgusting a thought that was, but he held his tongue and merely said, "No."

"Then what are you?" She asked softly, this time searching out his eyes until she locked with his.

Maul still said nothing, but kept his gaze stern and overbearing. Naturri seemed to get his point because she picked herself and left the room, leaving him to fend for himself.

For a moment the Sith Lord contemplated what had just happened. He wondered if he made the right choice by letting her live. After all, Darth Sidious never allowed anyone who proved to be a weak and pathetic creature to live. If they didn't demonstrate usefulness then they should be disposed of.

Then he noticed the tray of food sitting on the table. He was hungry…his stomach was probably the only thing that wasn't hurt in some manner or form, except for its emptiness. Getting over there was another question, however.

Gathering his strength, he pushed himself off the chair and slowly made his way over to the bed again, sat down, and then used the Force to hover the tray over to him. He rested it down gently next to his side and stared at the meal. There was a bowl of something he didn't even know how to start describing—a rice mixed with vegetables, perhaps?—and a plate of two slices of soft bread. The drink was something cold and pink that looked like it was animal milk mixed with sand. He didn't know what to taste first, if he even wanted to taste it at all. But he knew that eating would help him gain back his physical strength…so with one disgusted look he used the given utensil to start with the substance in the bowl.

To Maul's rather pleasant surprise the food was quite good. He took several more spoonfuls and agreed that eating here wouldn't be so bad for the time he was forced to do it. The bread was freshly made, he decided, and the drink was something he had never had before. It wasn't grainy and bitter like he expected, but sweet and thirst quenching.

When he was finished he felt full and relaxed. Whatever it was he had just eaten was superb—like back on Coruscant. Perhaps keeping her alive for a while longer wasn't a bad decision after all. He could certainly get used to the food. Then again, the girl's constant blabbering was enough to drive him insane. He knew he had very little patience, but maybe this would be a test of his ability to control himself like his master was always telling him.

With the tray no longer needed, Maul tossed it to the counter next to the medical supplies the girl had brought in there earlier. His bandages did need changing, that much he knew. He was pretty impervious when it came to disease or infection, but he wasn't one to fool around with his health. And he was certainly capable of taking care of himself; he had been since he joined the Sith many years ago when he was a mere child.

Agonizingly, Maul reached over and took hold of the scissors; he began cutting away the bandages he currently wore, being careful not to stab himself with the sharp tips in the process. Under the wrappings he found a large piece of gauze covering the lightsaber wound. Tossing the unwanted pieces away, he took hold of a corner of the gauze and started to pull it away from his skin.

The cool air stung the open wound; blood already forming from the edges at the freedom it was just given. The blood-soaked gauze was tossed away to joined everything else on the floor, but Maul was preoccupied with the damage to care about his actions. He wasn't surprised to see how deep the gash looked—in fact, he was surprised he was able to stop it from going through even further. The outer edge of the tissues and skin were singed from the heat of the Jedi's weapon; the rest of it looked like he cut himself open with a simple knife. He cursed the Jedi once again, muttering offensive words in his native tongue as he applied another, fresh strip of gauze on his side and midsection. Taking the role of bandage, he held it with one hand and used the other to, although with some difficulty, wrap it around himself until he felt it was on well enough to do its job.

Once he was finished, Maul tossed the supplies back on the counter and left the used dressings on the floor. He figured the girl could pick them up later. Feeling a bit tired from the hour's events, he decided he needed to lie back down and rest again, since there was nothing else to do. The only thing he did with his life if he wasn't out on a mission was train, but since he didn't have the ability for the time being, not to mention a weapon, that was out of the question.

Seated with his back against the wall, arms resting on either side of his torn body, Darth Maul closed his eyes in an effort to rest. He didn't want to sleep again—he felt he had done enough of that for however long he had been trapped in this girl's home. Whatever was in that food or drink was making him feel at ease, the pain not as harsh now as it was before. He could hardly feel the abrasions in his arm or leg and he was only half aware of the misery he felt from the one in his side. Whatever that girl had done to make him feel like this was taking over…he made a mental note to find out just what was in that stuff.