Author: TemporaryUniverse
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul, Asajj Ventress, Plo Koon
Summary: "I will make sure you stay awake long enough to feel every single cut. Your death," the Sith snarls, leaning in close, "will be beyond excruciating." - Maul wants revenge. Obi-Wan just wants to get out alive. - AU of 4x22 "Revenge"
Word Count: 2,422


"Still as weak as ever," Obi-Wan's nightmare sneers. Maul backhands him across the face, the brother helpfully holding him upright. Then he swings him around and tosses him headfirst into a stack of crates, hard enough that the corners probably dent his ribs.

"And they call you Master." Apparently, improving one's insults is a low priority during a decade of exile.

"You know, when I cut you in half, I should have aimed for your neck instead." Savage drags him back by his ankle, slamming him down at Maul's feet, the thud reverberating through his bones. A gesture from Maul sends the other Zabrak away but Obi-Wan is too busy making his lungs remember how to breathe to care much.

"Anything more to say?" Maul taunts, looming over him. Obi-Wan smirks. Of course he does.

"I like your new legs. They make you look taller," he replies before he can think better of it. He grunts as the Force twists him, cold and harsh in a way it shouldn't be, and lifts him into Maul's grasp.

"I will make sure you stay awake long enough to feel every single cut. Your death," the Sith snarls, leaning in close, "will be beyond excruciating."

The crimson plasma of Maul's lightsaber burns dangerously a mere hand length from his face, and with each venomous word, the blade drifts closer, until the heat of it caresses his cheek. And Obi-Wan can't help but be afraid. Instinct has him shying away, gaze flickering down from the hateful, yellow stare to the weapon, but the clawed grip on his chin holds him still, Maul's nails digging into his skin. Ah. Perhaps he shouldn't have antagonized him so much. He grabs at the Sith's wrists, trying to break the hold, but Maul has a decade of insanity and the singular goal of vengeance fueling his strength. All Obi-Wan can see is red — red shields, red saber, red blood — and the cruel sneer of the monster behind it. He grits his teeth and braces himself. Maul will show him no mercy.

The saber sears a line of fiery agony from jaw to brow and his breath explodes from his lungs in a piercing scream. Skin, muscle, and fat melt and burn down to the bone and his eye boils in its socket… He writhes, digging his nails into Maul's arms, and screams until there was no more air in his chest and he is wheezing instead. Seconds stretch into infinity before Maul releases him. He crumples to the ground. The smell of his own flesh burning chokes him and he tastes bile, involuntary tears leaking from his good eye.

Maul leaves him there, content with his enemy's suffering, for now. It does not matter. Obi-Wan can't think, not when every twitch of his face cascades into an unfathomable pain that overwhelms him, that crushes him underneath its waves and drags him down deep.


Returning to consciousness, he is greeted by a familiar face.

"Ventress?" He croaks, and the streak of agony that shoots through his jaw makes him regret it. The entire right side of his face is numb, the sort of numb that came from so much pain that his brain can't process it anymore. Except, of course, when he breathes. Or blinks. Or moves at all, really. Then it is like the touch of the saber all over again.

"Hells, Kenobi, what did you do to piss this guy off?"

"Cut off his legs," Obi-Wan says, a breathless, teary chuckle igniting another surge of terrible anguish. He squeezes his eye shut and fights to regain control. "How bad?"

"Well, you won't be winning any beauty contests soon. Not that you were ever much to look at." She helps him up and the concern from her is odd, like she doesn't quite know what to do with it. He must truly look awful if a former Sith acolyte is worried about him. "Think you can fight?"

"Probably not," he mumbles, trying to move his jaw as little as possible. It hurts anyway.

Of course, that's exactly when Maul and his brother decide to rejoin them. Ventress swears under her breath and shoves one of her lightsabers into Obi-Wan's hands.

"I want that back."

An answering quip dances on his tongue but he holds back when the throbbing rudely reminds him of his face's existence. Instead of responding, he turns around and ignites the saber, trying to not be unnerved by the red glow.

Maul goes straight for him, eyes simmering with rage. Obi-Wan lifts the saber, more reassured than he probably should be by the unexpected ally at his back. Ventress situates herself in his brand-new blindspot, so he switches the lightsaber to his left hand to give her room to maneuver.

The first slash is aimed at his ribs and he knocks it aside, abruptly aware of how difficult this fight will be. He can't even see half of the attacks coming, is relying wholly on the Force to warn him and place his saber correctly. The pain distracts him, pulling his attention away from the threat. A heavy metal foot slams into his chest, sending him flying backwards into a stack of crates.

He struggles to pull himself up as Maul stalks toward him with lethal intent. The Zabrak strikes, his blade arcing down toward Obi-Wan's head and he gets his saber up just in time to block it. Maul presses in, locking their sabers together, his superior strength pushing the burning heat of the plasma closer to his most hated enemy's face as he grins menacingly.

"Your master, Qui-Gon Jinn, I gutted him while you stood helpless and watched. How did that make you feel, Obi-Wan?"

Anger kindles in him as scorching as the burn on his face — a blow, a scream, a promise — the same anger that had burned in him ten years ago. How dare he? How dare this murderer even say Qui-Gon's name? He shouldn't even be alive, he should be dead, in pieces, Obi-Wan should have killed him the first time. He had failed to avenge his Master.

He can't fail again.

Obi-Wan snarls and shoves the Sith back, lashing out and nearly cutting him in half. He follows the attack up with a flurry of strikes which Maul easily defends against. One wrong move and Ventress' saber is wrenched out of his hand and then he is on the ground, Maul's foot on his chest holding him down. His ribs creak under the pressure and he gasps, the sharp edges of the metal clamping down and cutting into his flesh. The point of one claw rests threateningly on his throat.

Maul smiles down at him, all razor teeth and keen amusement. He twirls his lightsaber then drives the tip of it into the Jedi's abdomen. Obi-Wan shouts in pain, the blade burning a shallow hole just under his ribcage, exactly where Maul had done the same to Qui-Gon, not deep enough to kill, this time, but it still hurts.

A pale figure practically throws herself at Maul, forcing him to bring his saber up and allowing Obi-Wan to roll to his feet. Ventress seems to be holding her own against Maul, distracting him enough for Obi-Wan to call his saber from the Zabrak's belt just in time to block the strike from Savage. The power behind the blow makes him stumble backwards, his entire body screaming in agony.

"Ventress!" He gasps, ducking under Savage's next swipe and moving closer to the cockpit. His mostly-ally seems to understand what his goal was because she disengages from Maul, flips over Savage, and shoves Obi-Wan toward their escape. They stumble into the cockpit and Obi-Wan practically collapses in the pilot's seat, immediately reaching for the controls.

"Hurry up, Kenobi," Ventress growls, watching the Dathomirian brothers cut through the door. He slams his hand on the button and the pod launches, leaving the cargo bay and the two Zabraks behind.


"Sir, a ship just dropped out of hyperspace. They're hailing us. Looks like bounty hunters, sir."

"Put them through, Lieutenant," Plo says. When the image appears, he blinks in surprise. "Ventress."

"I have something of yours and figured you might want him back. He's a little beat up… not my doing," she says when she sees his reproachful head tilt, "but Kenobi said I could be compensated for his return."

"I am sure we can work something out," Plo replies diplomatically, worried now about why Obi-Wan is not making the call himself. "I will open the hangar for you."

"Bring your medic." Ventress glances to the side, presumably at her companion, before cutting the transmission off.

Plo turns to Lt. Sparks. "Open the bay doors and comm Mac and Wolffe, have them meet me in the hangar."

"Right away, sir." Sparks doesn't question him, although Plo can feel his uncertainty at letting a known hostile like Ventress onto their ship.

Plo makes it to the hangar as Ventress' sleek ship touches down. He waits patiently as the landing ramp extends, although Wolffe is stiff with tension beside him. Ventress stands at the top of the ramp and motions them in.

"He's in the cockpit," she says, just as the 104th's head medic, Mac, appears at Plo's shoulder.

None of them are prepared for Obi-Wan's state. A terrible burn slashes across his face and he looks like he's been beaten within an inch of his life. He stirs as Plo crouches in front of his seat, his eye opening to a thin slit.

"Plo?" Obi-Wan rasps, the sound of it painful to Plo's ears.

"I am here, Obi-Wan. What happened?" To his growing horror, a tear slips down the injured master's cheek.

"It was him. Maul. He's alive." The Sith from Naboo? Hadn't Obi-Wan cut him in half?

"Sir, we need to get him to the medbay," Mac says, scowling at his scanner. "He needs a bacta tank." Plo straightens, turning to hand Ventress a small pouch of credits with a nod. Then he lifts Obi-Wan into his arms, the man letting out a pained whimper at the movement.

Ventress takes off as soon as their boots hit the deck, but Plo heads straight to the medbay. Obi-Wan has started to tremble, distress leaking out to taint the Force. Mac directs him to one of the cots, but when he lays Obi-Wan down and moves away, his friend catches his wrist tightly.

"He's alive." It sounds like a plea and Plo feels his heart clench at the devastated gleam in the younger Jedi's eye.

"You will be okay, Obi-Wan," he rumbles. His eyes drawn to Obi-Wan's face, Plo feels a bit sick as he examines the damage that can only have been made by a lightsaber. The long slash stretches diagonally from the line of his jaw, up through his right eye and tapering off above his eyebrow. It is charred and blackened, with patches of bright red and white in the middle. Plo is pretty sure he can see bone. What is left of his eyelid is swollen and seems to have fused together, the cornea peeking out behind it turned a milky white.

"Failed."

"No. No, my friend, this was no failure of yours." He glances over to where Mac has uncovered another, only slightly less gruesome burn just under Obi-Wan's ribcage. He helps the medic to carefully remove the layers of tunics, revealing a tapestry of purpling bruises, Obi-Wan quieting but refusing to let go of Plo's hand. Mac quickly hooks him up to several monitors then grabs a couple of hyposprays. One of them must be a sedative because Obi-Wan starts to fade as soon as it is administered. He tries to fight it but eventually succumbs to unconsciousness, his grip on Plo going slack and his eye slowly blinking closed.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, General. Needles and I need room to work."

"Of course. Please keep me updated."

"Yessir."

Plo steps back just as Needles comes up beside him. He nods to the medic and leaves them to it, heading instead for the comms room. He needs to have a word with Mace.


Waking up is an unpleasant experience because as soon as he opens his eyes, it feels like he was hit by a speeder, even through the haze of what is obviously a considerable amount of drugs. Movement in his peripheral makes him flinch and he tilts his head to find Plo seated beside him.

"Obi-Wan. You are not supposed to be awake yet."

There is probably a joke Obi-Wan can make, but he finds the words won't come, his brain uselessly slow, his thoughts dragging through thick, deep mud.

"Plo," he acknowledges, finally.

"How do you feel?"

He tries to shift to a more comfortable position and immediately his stiff and abused muscles cramp, driving a gasp from him and alarming Plo.

"I will go get Mac," he says.

"No! I'm… fine," Obi-Wan pants out, trying to breathe through the pain. "I'm fine." He begins the process of relaxing his muscles one by one.

Plo sighs but sits back down.

"Obi-Wan," he admonishes. Obi-Wan hums, releasing the tension in his left calf.

"How bad?" he asks quietly.

"Six broken ribs, sternal, ulnar, and orbital bone fractures, internal bleeding, and fourth degree burns on your face and abdomen. You were in the tank for twelve hours." He hesitates slightly, then presses on. "Mac does not think you will regain full vision in your eye. He's reduced as much scarring as he can but he says your retina was damaged."

"O-oh," Obi-Wan stutters. "Master Plo, I don't—I'm—"

"Hush, young one. It will be alright."

Obi-Wan's hand drifts up towards the bandages swathing half his face but Plo gently grabs it and pulls it back down. He doesn't let go, after, just lets Obi-Wan grip his fingers tightly as he tries to calm himself.

"Breathe, Obi-Wan."

The concerned order breaks through his daze and he sucks in air and forces his lungs to start working again. He is tense again, all of his progress at relaxation vanished in his panic. Peace and light engulf him, Plo wrapping him carefully in the Force, soothing the cutting edges of the realization he's just had.

He's lost his eye. He's lost an eye to the same Sith that stole his Master from him. The Sith that he killed.

Evidently, he didn't do a good enough job because Maul…

Maul is alive.

And Obi-Wan…

Obi-Wan is a failure.


Thank you for reading!