Disclaimer: They belong to George Lucas. I'm just a poor
student who isn't making any money off of this. In fact, George
already has most of my money, so asking for more won't do him a
bit of good.
Notes: This fic is unbeta'ed and makes no sense, but it made me
feel better. For everyone who sent feedback on Yippee...all I
can say is that I'm a flake and a half, and I deleted the wrong
aol folder. M'sorry.
For Isa, 'cause everything I write is for her. And for Shadow,
who suffered through the beginning of this.
Jedi did not hate. Therefore, Obi-Wan did not hate Naboo. Jedi
did not fear, and therefore, Obi-Wan did not have nightmares
about the melting pit under the palace. There were many things
Jedi did not do, things that were against the Code, things that
Obi-Wan shoved so far inside him that they might well not have
existed. No one would have known.
No one save Obi-Wan. And his own personal tattooed demon.
He would have thought that a demon would have a rough voice, a
voice burned by the fires of a thousand different hells from a
thousand different planets. A demon would have rough hands,
ungentle and uncaring. Claws to rip, jaws to snap.
But no.
"You failed him," Maul said softly from behind Obi-Wan.
"I tried," Obi-Wan whispered. He looked down at his hands, at
the lightsaber hilt on his belt. Qui-Gon's lightsaber, used to
avenge him. A Master Jedi's lightsaber used in service of the
Dark. It seemed absurd. He had killed a Sith. Surely that was a
thing of the Light. Surely.
Maul moved closer, brushing against the wide sleeve of
Obi-Wan's robe. "There is no passion. No anger. A Jedi acts
from peace."
"Yes." Obi-Wan turned his head, staring silently at the energy
gates that cycled on and off, leading back toward the upper
levels of the palace.
"You killed me in anger."
"Justice."
"Liar." Maul chuckled softly, circling Obi-Wan like some
starkly colored bird of prey. "If you believed that, you would
not be here. With me."
Obi-Wan turned his head again, not meeting Maul's eyes. He
tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robes -- Qui-Gon's
robes, altered to fit -- and lifted his chin. "You're dead."
There was a moment of silence. Then another low laugh. "I'm
still here."
"It's never that easy," murmured Obi-Wan. He sighed, rubbing
one hand against his eyes. He could feel Maul in front of him;
there was a void in the Force where a living being should have
been, and wasn't.
There was another empty space in the Force, lower down and to
his right. It matched the empty space in the back of his head.
Obi-Wan ignored it, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.
He heard the crackle and hiss of an igniting lightsaber and
smiled faintly, tilting his head back further, baring his
throat.
Maul laughed. "Where would the joy be in killing you?"
"Sith do not feel joy."
"Jedi do not feel at all."
Years of training brought Qui-Gon's lightsaber to Obi-Wan's
hand, ignited it in a rush of green light, brought the blade up
against the deep red of Maul's. The air around them crackled
and hummed and Obi Wan opened his eyes.
Maul sneered at him, driving him back in a flurry of movement.
Obi-Wan spun and ducked, lashing out with one foot, falling off
balance when Maul darted backwards, just out of reach. Obi-Wan
growled. Maul gestured, shoving, and Obi-Wan fell backward.
He landed hard and his hand slipped out from under him. There
was a puddle of something warm and sticky beneath him. It
seeped into his robes and stained his hands. Obi-Wan shuddered.
This wasn't part of the dream. There had been no blood when--
Maul knelt, one red and black hand pressed over Obi-Wan's
heart. "You're angry."
Obi-Wan said nothing.
"You hate me."
He closed his eyes.
"You're afraid." Maul straddled Obi-Wan's chest and smiled.
"Good."
Obi-Wan tried to center himself in the Force; whatever his Maul
had planned was going to be unpleasant. That was the nature of
demons, to torment. He felt Maul's fingers trace the line of
his jaw, felt the slickness that got left behind. It dried
sticky, and smelled cloyingly sweet.
"You are not a very good Jedi," Maul continued, stroking the
blood along Obi-Wan's face, marking him as Maul himself was
marked.
Fingers along his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth. More
sweetness. Maul's fingers were quick and surprisingly gentle on
his skin. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and stared up at Maul. Bright
yellow eyes stared back at him impassively. "You're not real.
You're dead."
Maul smiled mockingly. "There is no death, there is only the
Force."
Obi-Wan's fingers closed around the hilt of Qui-Gon's
lightsaber.
"Has he come to you, Obi-Wan? Has your precious Master become
one with the Force?" Maul cupped Obi-Wan's face between his
hands. "Can you feel him? Is he there? No, he wouldn't be. He
wouldn't show himself to you. He's just so much meat."
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Ignored the smell of blood.
Maul turned Obi-Wan's head gently, forcing him to look at the
body beside him. "He doesn't look very alive to me, Jedi."
And of course, he wasn't. Qui-Gon was dead, his body burned,
and his ashes scattered. Obi-Wan studied the body. The eyes
were open and blue, empty.
Empty.
Qui-Gon was dead. And Obi-Wan was left with nothing but a
promise binding him to a boy he did not quite trust.
Maul laughed. "You've already killed me."
"Not well enough, apparently," said Obi-Wan softly.
Maul leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips to Obi-Wan's
forehead. The kiss was gentle, comforting, and Obi-Wan
shivered, reaching up with his free hand to catch Maul's wrist.
The lightsaber in his other hand was cold, and too large for
his hand, but familiar for all that. It would be so easy to
kill him, again, bare flick of his wrist and the Sith would be
dead.
Killing was not always wrong.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, focused on the Force pulsing just out
of reach, pulled it close around himself and pushed. The weight
on his chest, the hands pressed gently against his cheeks,
everything was gone in a sudden rush of air and Obi-Wan
scrambled to his feet.
The world was red.
Qui-Gon stood on the other side of the energy gate, chin lifted
proudly. His hands were empty, and Obi-Wan glanced down at the
lightsaber clenched in his fist. Looked up in time to see Maul
smile. Too late. Always and forever too late.
Qui-Gon slumped to the ground
Obi-Wan screamed, rage and sorrow twisting the sound until it
was barely recognizable as human. The gate cycled off and
Obi-Wan lunged forward, bringing the lightsaber up to attack.
Maul parried and moved backward, his lightsaber clashing
against Obi-Wan's in a shower of sparks. They circled the
melting pit, coming together in brief flurries of movement.
They were evenly matched; Obi-Wan's grief and anger giving him
a rush of strength to match Maul's cold hatred.
Love could lead to the Dark Side. All it took was one moment,
one action committed in anger or jealousy and there it was. The
Dark stretching out into infinity, tainting everything, until
one day nothing was left clean or pure or right.
Obi-Wan whirled, one booted foot connecting heavily with Maul's
jaw. The Sith staggered back, balancing on the edge of the
melting pit. He smiled again. "Kill me, Jedi. Become me."
Killing was not always wrong.
Maul fell backwards, arms spread out. He was still smiling.
Obi-Wan dropped Qui-Gon's lightsaber, and ran to his fallen
Master. He knelt, gathering Qui-Gon's body close to his own.
Qui-Gon blinked up at him. There was a look of horror on his
face and he struggled weakly against Obi-Wan's arms.
"Master..."
Qui-Gon only struggled harder. He pulled free and rolled up
onto his hands and knees. There was a brief tremor in the Force
around Qui-Gon, and his lightsaber flew into his hand, ignited,
and was swung, almost too quickly to be seen.
Obi-Wan woke up alone on his sleep-couch, shivering, a scream
trapped in his throat.
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