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Maul had always believed in pain. The one constant in his life, it served as a catalyst, a way to strengthen his connection to the dark side. Holes from blaster shots, the burn of a lightsaber were fuel, fuel for his hatred and rage. He had learned long ago at the hands of his Master pain was not something to fear. It was a promise. Every broken bone or bruise, every laceration became a pledge, a declaration of his devotion, that he would do better.
The Emperor wants you…dead.
Words carried their own ache. Not the bright, white-hot physical sensation he was used to, but something dark, black. Feelings of shame, inadequacy smoldered inside. A slow-burning flame, one whose energy he would draw upon when no other source sufficed. It was a fire he stoked in the quieter moments between missions for his Master, turning the words around and around in his head. Even now, years after Sidious’ abandonment, Maul found himself ruminating. Each word an old wound, opening again and again.
That was how Devon discovered him, leaning on a folding bench in the rear bay of the Crimson Dawn shuttle. She had watched him limp off from the corner of her eye moments after accepting his proposal, keeping a steady count of the passing minutes in her head. When he failed to return after nearly thirty, she went looking for him.
His right leg extended out while the other braced against the bench, using it for support. His back was to the room, a tool in one hand attempting to fix the damage done in the fight to flee Janix. He muttered under his breath, words punctuated with a curse as the electronics in his leg sparked, sending a shock through his nerve to his spine. When he felt her presence, he stopped, shoulders rolling down as his head twisted to one side.
“What do you want?”
Devon blinked, momentarily wrong-footed, then folded her arms and leaned against the entry. “I thought we had a deal. Just making sure you didn’t abandon me to these Crimson Dawn creeps.”
A muscle in Maul’s neck twitched. He returned to his task. “We do. And I didn’t, obviously.”
A spark flared. Air hissed through his teeth.
Devon pushed herself off the door. “Need some help with that?”
“I can manage.”
Another spark, followed by the smell of burning wire.
“Obviously,” the young Jedi scoffed.
Wordlessly, Maul held out the tool. Devon took it as the Zabrak lowered himself onto the bench with a grunt. She knelt beside him, eyeing the mass of singed electronics and burnt metal.
“Something wrong?” Maul said, noting her hesitation. “Did the Jedi never provide any…technical training?”
Devon bit her lip. Irritation flickered briefly around her, a small glow but it was enough. The girl held such potential.
“This is not like anything I’ve seen before,” she replied.
“That’s because it’s Mandalorian.”
Maul shifted, adjusting his position. There was a clicking sound followed by a sharp jerk of his leg. Maul’s jaw clenched, biting back another groan, hand curling into a tight fist on the bench.
“Stop moving,” Devon chided.
“I’m trying, believe me. This feels far from pleasant.”
“You made it through the ruins easy enough.” The girl brought the tool — a pair of wire strippers — up and began cutting out the damaged sections of fiber.
“We were in the middle of a fight. The pain had its use then.”
Devon’s hand paused. She looked at him. “How?”
For a moment, the red seemed to recede from his eyes. He turned away. “Never mind. Are you going to fix me or talk?”
Anger flared around her. It both pleased and disgusted Maul. Was he truly no better than Sidious? The monster that had trained him, discarded him?
I won’t let him do this to anyone else.
“That’s the best I can do,” Devon said, her voice tearing Maul away from his thoughts. “The servo’s fried but the wire repairs should hold until you can get it looked at properly.”
Maul tested his leg. There were no more electric arcs from frayed wire connections but movement would still prove bothersome until he was able to replace those mechanical parts.
“How does it feel? Does it…still hurt?”
“It always hurts.” Maul stood, taking a few tentative steps. “But this will suffice. Now return to the others, before your absence is missed.”
The girl rose, hands clenched into fists at her sides, eyers narrowing. A retort balanced on the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed it down as she turned to the entry.
“And, Devon,” Maul called after her. “Thank you.”
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