Chapter Text
“At last we meet, Mr. Skywalker,” Darth Maul practically purrs. One of his leather-gloved fingers slowly caresses the side of Anakin’s face, but the villain yanks it back when his captive snaps his head to the left and bites at the offending digit. Maul shakes his wrist, chuckling dangerously. “Ah, I can see now why The Force feels so drawn to you, pretty and snippy as you are.”
“Snippy? Who the hell are you calling snippy, you creepy fuck?” Anakin scoffs. He probably shouldn’t be taunting the dangerously unhinged alien who has his wrists and ankles secured to the supports of a hydraulic metal chair with high-tech mechanical cuffs … But Anakin has never been accused of possessing common sense. Or patience. Or modesty. So some things, like insulting his captor, just can't be helped.
Maul stares down at Anakin with a faintly terrifying mixture of amusement and hatred burning in his eyes. This is Anakin’s first time being kidnapped by a supervillain, and he’s not entirely sure why he’s been acting so bold, but whatever well of bravado he’s been drawing from dries up in an instant when Maul’s voice drips his next threat like honey: “Someone should really teach you some manners before your sharp tongue gets you into trouble, Ani .”
The human recoils suddenly in his bonds, as if Maul has just delivered a physical blow.
Doctor Kenobi is the only person who calls Anakin by that nickname, so how the hell does Darth Maul know about it!? Why the hell does Maul know about it!? Anakin struggles violently against the tight bands of metal that secure his limbs to the arms of the chair, “Where the hell did you hear that name?”
“You don’t know, do you?” Maul asks. Anakin shakes his head and the Dathomirian chuckles, bemused; the sound makes Anakin’s skin crawl. “You really don’t know what your precious Dr. Kenobi does when he isn’t grading papers or working in his lab. My, my... I'm surprised that he keeps his favorite pet in the dark about his extracurricular activities.”
“Wh-What the hell are you talking about, Maul? What does Dr. Kenobi have to do with any of this?!”
“Every superhero has a secret identity, Ani. Don’t you read the comics?” Maul shakes his head in feigned disappointment. He tucks one of the young man’s loose curls back behind his ear and Anakin gnashes his teeth defiantly in return. “The Force should really be more careful about whose window he lurks around at night… Having him constantly checking in on you over the last couple of weeks made it so much easier to track you down. Made it so much easier to break into your shitty student apartment, dose you with a medical-grade sedative, and steal you away to my hidden lair. I left your darling professor an invitation to win you back, of course, but it wasn’t exactly straightforward…”
Anakin laughs breathlessly. Disbelievingly. His voice takes on a slightly hysterical edge when he manages to ask: “Are you trying to tell me that Dr. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a tenured Professor of Physics at the prestigious Coruscant University , is actually The Force? Like, The Force, the internationally beloved superhero?”
Maul nods. He walks two fingers up the length of Anakin's bare forearm, creating a trail of unpleasant gooseflesh in his wake. “None of this matters anymore, of course, now that I possess the one thing he loves most in all the world.”
“I don’t think you can threaten to have his doctorate degree revoked… Wait, can you?” Anakin queries, flicking yet another loose curl out of his eyes. “Or are you going to somehow blackmail the university into firing him and taking away his laboratory?”
The Dathomirian gives Anakin the same look that Dr. Kenobi gives him when he’s missing a particularly obvious answer. The evildoer puts one hand on his hip and rests his forehead against the opposite palm, taking a long moment to compose himself. Eventually he releases a slow exhale partnered with a sigh. He looks back up at his captive and chuckles again, derisively. “Are you fucking serious right now? I try not to lose my head when I’m conducting official business with hero bait, but are you really this dumb? How are you getting such fantastic grades and writing such a comprehensive thesis when you are also, quite literally, the stupidest man I’ve ever met in my entire life!?”
“I’m afraid I’ve been called stupid for many reasons and by many people. And insulting me doesn’t change the fact that I’m still not sure why my presence is necessary for you to do business with Dr. Kenobi.”
“Dr. Kenobi, The Force, or whatever else you want to call that goody-two-shoes who’s always ruining my perfectly heinous plans,” Darth Maul gestures towards Anakin with the hand not on his hip, “Is hopelessly in love with you, young Mr. Skywalker. I kidnapped you directly out from beneath your bedclothes in order to get what I want from the heroic old fool.”
“First, he’s not even that old. Second, what do you mean what you want from him? What could he possibly give you other than a letter of recommendation?”
“I want him to surrender himself into my custody, obviously.”
“Good luck with that,” Anakin smirks, playing along with Maul’s game. His fear and disbelief have mixed into a strangely heady cocktail. He’s gone from calm to shocked to calm again – or maybe the shock is ongoing and he’s somehow adjusted to its presence. “I’ve seen the way he grades. You’re more likely to get a handwritten request to meet during office hours. Maybe the two of you can have some tea and discuss why all your plans keep failing.”
“I am not one of his weak human pupils. I am one of the greatest supervillains to ever invade your puny, damp, annoyingly loud little planet! I have outsmarted him at last, and The Force will bow before me.”
“Not likely, Maul.”
Anakin cranes his head as far to the right as his bindings will allow, trying to catch a glimpse of his favorite superhero. If it is his college professor standing in the cavernous hallway of Maul’s creepy underground lair, the hero doesn’t let on. He gives Anakin a polite but otherwise impersonal nod in greeting before returning his attention to the alien.
Darth Maul grins and leans back, casually dragging his pointer finger across an almost comically large control panel to his and Anakin’s left. A series of flashing buttons in various shapes and primary colors blink ominously. “I’d be careful about your attitude, Force. I have your pretty little graduate student at my mercy, remember?”
Maul flicks a switch and Anakin’s already uncomfortable metal seat tilts back at an alarming angle. “Hey! What the hell are you doing!?”
“I told you that I was probably going to kill you; didn’t I, Ani ?”
The Force flinches at the nickname and Anakin’s worst fears and greatest hopes are simultaneously confirmed. The secret, unrequited love of his life is under that familiar blue-and-white mask. Obi-Wan is The Force, and both of those personas care so much about Anakin that they’ve been checking in on him regularly. The balance of terror and disbelief which had cradled him in limbo before now shifts hard in terror’s favor. Even if The Force manages to get them both out of this situation alive, Anakin will likely lose the close relationship he has with Dr. Kenobi. A relationship that he holds near and dear to his heart.
Maul pulls a small vibroblade from somewhere in his black ensemble with a too-quick movement and presses it flat against the length of Anakin’s cheekbone. The human inhales sharply, as does his potential rescuer. Maul smirks far too smugly when he says, “The terms are very simple, Force. You either hand your miserable self over to me this instant and allow me to put you in hypersleep so I can go about my business on this planet uninhibited, or you can say goodbye to your pathetic human lover forever.”
“He’s not my lover,” The Force snaps. Anakin’s heart clenches and the pain of it pushes him closer to hysteria. The tears that finally redden his blue eyes aren’t motivated by fear in the slightest, but by an overwhelming combination of disappointment and heartbreak. Maul coos patronizingly down at the young man and pushes the vibroblade against his skin a little harder, until a thin line of red blooms along his tearfully sticky cheek.
“Then I suppose you won’t mind the new scar I just put on this pretty face.”
Anakin hears Obi-Wan snarl, a sound so feral and unusual for the clear-headed older man that it takes the captive human a conscious effort not to jerk his head sideways and look at his beloved. “If you harm him any further and we engage in combat, I cannot promise you will survive.”
“Are you threatening me? The Force, ever so famous for his ability to negotiate with even the most unhinged criminals, is threatening me ? I’m…” Maul places a hand over his heart and beams, “I think I’m honored.”
“No one else has ever been quite so foolish before, if I’m being quite honest,” The Force states primly. The hero stalks forward until he's in the main cavern of Maul's lair instead of taking up the hallway, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet solidly. Anakin is torn between elation over his high chances of survival and heartbreak over Obi-Wan’s outright rejection.
Mostly, though, Anakin's cheek stings from the continued agitation of Darth Maul’s knife against his tender skin. The constant trickle of blood from the wound and his increasingly unstable mental state are starting to make him lightheaded and he can hear his own breathing hitch awkwardly as a result. His eyes are losing focus, the edges of his vision going dark-
“Oh goodness, my dear Doctor Kenobi. It seems as if our patient is starting to lose consciousness. Is it from fear? Blood loss? Will he live long enough for you to find out?”
“Anakin?!” The Force calls. The captive still can’t turn his head far enough to see clearly, pressed into place as he is. “Anakin, please say something! Anything!”
“I- I love y-you, Obi-Wan,” the student gasps.
The material-covered eyes on the hero’s mask go wide in surprise and Anakin can practically see Dr. Kenobi's shocked expression underneath. “What!?”
“This is like something that your hideously sentimental species would put in one of their Hallmark Channel holos! It’s almost too good to be true! A tragic love confession from the man you’ve been secretly yearning for–” Maul raises the knife above his head and flicks its hilt up into his hand, aiming the point towards Anakin’s vulnerable chest “–mere moments before your untimely, utterly preventable death.”
The villain is promptly slammed into the distant cement wall by a blast of invisible energy. His vibroblade drops to the ground and skitters off into the darkness. The Force rushes to Anakin’s side, ripping off his mask and switching off his Glamour to reveal Dr. Kenobi, whose concerned grey-blue eyes are so beautiful it aches. Obi-Wan says something, his brows knitting together with worry as he repeats the question a second and third time.
But the human can’t hear him over the racing of his own heart, can’t pull enough coherence together to form some kind of answer, can’t even seem to force in a breath– With his body and mind both completely overwhelmed by the events of the past fifteen minutes, Anakin blacks out.