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Quicksilver

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His side was on fire; the pain radiated up his ribcage, all the way up to his armpit. He could smell the bacta, though; knew that whatever wound he had taken had already been dressed. His head also buzzed at him, a combination of exhaustion and dizziness, the sense that if he opened his eyes, the world above him would spin half-circles until he closed them again.  He could feel the somewhat hard surface of a cot under his back, and tried to orient himself, though not to much avail.

"Shh, no rush." Obi-Wan's voice was pitched soft; the hand he rested across Maul's brow was cool, calloused in all the familiar places, and the thumb he rubbed at the intermittent furrow between Maul's brows felt good. "If it were three centimeters worse, you'd be on a medevac."

"What happened?" Maul asked, reaching across himself to try to poke at the source of the pain, though Obi-Wan took the hand off his head to brush his own aside before he could.

"Would you like me to start with the mad rush where you took on several companies of battledroids solo, or your brush with our dear General Grievous?"

The memories were filtering back in slowly with the words; Maul thought, probably, that he was a little concussed on top of whatever else. "My company?"

"Alive and accounted for. And several more of Anakin's troops probably owe their lives to you, too."

"Oh, good." Obi-Wan's former padawan tended to take losses hard; even though Anakin was a knight now, his grief often reflected in Obi-Wan's, and for that matter, Maul wasn't all right with losing people himself. He didn't agree with this war, didn't like it, didn't like the situation with the clones at all, but he still went out onto a battlefield because at least there, he could mitigate the damage all around. "Did I get any part of that ridiculous metal tornado?" he asked, finally getting his eyes open enough to peer at Obi-Wan through his eyelashes, though the dizziness dissuaded that again very quickly.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Two of his hands, actually, lightsabers included. It was one of his remaining ones that got you back; it's not deep, but it's going to take time to heal. He ran after that. And you, I think, need to get away for awhile."

Maul made a noncommittal noise back; time to heal was precious and he didn't like the idea of leaving his troops. His own master had been on him to take leave; there was nothing that could get Maul feeling uncomfortable like worrying Master Plo, but nonetheless, he had not once taken any time off that his company hadn't since the war had broken out over a year ago. "I'll rest, but I don't think I'm going anywhere."

"No?" Obi-Wan sounded like he knew something Maul didn't. A beat later, he confirmed it, "What if I and our troops also did? The Senate just finally approved official, regular leave for the military. Would you go away with me on leave for a few weeks?" His voice dropped to a teasing murmur, "Steal away somewhere private?"

No doubt the approval for leave was Bail Organa's work; the senator had been working tirelessly for that effort. And the idea of just having time to be with Obi-Wan made yearning flare up; he and Maul had been paired up from their late teenage years (and friends before that), quietly carrying on through almost two decades now, staying committed through long periods of separation; staying committed through the loss of Obi-Wan's master, the discovery that Maul had a fraternal twin stolen by the Sith who were thought to be long vanquished, and now through a war. Even though their quiet, unsanctioned commitment to each other had never wavered, time was quicksilver; being offered a chance to share it exclusively was not to be turned down lightly, if at all.

Maul ended up smiling before he meant to, despite the pain and concussion and the fact he'd need time to heal. "Well, if you really mean that--"

"I do." Obi-Wan leaned down, a rustle of robes, and pressed a long kiss to his brow before whispering there, lips brushing skin, "Come away with me, darling."