When have we ever followed orders?

Devon swallowed.

Maul.

She'd have no issue telling Master Daki of the incident but…Maul? Something tugged in her chest. What she wouldn't give to have Master Daki back right now…

Devon slipped from her bed and waddled to the refresher. She cleaned herself and folded a wad of toilet paper in a fresh pair of underwear, then doubled it up with another wad. It was better than nothing, but she put on her darkest layers just in case.

Stripping the sheets, Devon scrubbed at the stain as best as she could with cold water from the tub, and shoved them in her dirty laundry basket. All she had to do was get through the day. Come nightfall, she could sneak off to the market when Maul was asleep. He didn't need to know.

Cramps were an old enemy Devon defeated. She fought through heat and muck during the Clone Wars, running on three hours of sleep, able to ignore the dull throb. Her body compartmentalized because there were far more pressing issues at the moment.

Like warm ups, for example.

The stretches were fine, in fact, they helped. But Devon feared the possibility of the toilet paper shifting, either falling down a pant leg or bleeding through her underwear again. Truthfully, she didn't know which scenario was worse. Either way, Maul didn't think her saddle stretches were deep enough.

"Lower," he ordered, standing next to her.

Devon inhaled and walked her hands forward until her chest nearly touched the ground. She heard Maul shift, then felt pressure, which she realized was his hand, on her back.

"I know you can go lower than that," Maul said. His voice was always calm, with veiled undertones of disapproval. Normally, his capacity for patience served as a pleasant surprise. Right now, it pissed Devon off.

He wasn't wrong, she could, she just didn't want to.

Humidity clung to the inside of her lungs. It was raining, and Devon's clothes weighed heavy and cold against her frame. Mud caked her boots, and smeared across her skin in thick streaks. The training droids were merciless— scattered across the area, stalking her through the trees. Devon found her rhythm. The cramps were an afterthought. Maul paced the perimeter, watching her.

She was high in a tree when a droid fired at her flank. Devon deflected the bolts to burn holes in the nearby trunks. She jumped from the branch and rolled then felt it; warmth, sudden, and unmistakable, more than the toilet paper could hold. Devon was sure of it. She didn't know if she bled through and had no way to check.

The droid from above fired at her. Devon dodged too late and took the bolt in her shoulder. She hissed in pain, and brought her saber up to deflect the barrage of fire. She was already soaked. The toilet paper couldn't hold and Maul would see. Devon needed the refresher, now.

"Master." She waited until the droid's blaster auto cool down before running to Maul at the treeline. "Master I don't feel well. I need to stop."

Maul stood tall with his hands behind his back, looking down his nose at Devon in the way she knew meant disapproval. "Do you think your enemies will stop because you don't feel well?"

"I know they won't," her voice was thin. "But—"

He tilted his head. "I do not care for your excuses. You do not feel well?" Maul stepped towards her. "Pray tell, what is your ailment, Devon?"

"I—" The words died in her throat. Devon stood soaked in the rain, probably bleeding through, burning with shame, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"You waste my time!" Maul drew his lightsaber and Devon blocked his strike. She didn't have time for this. She still bled. She needed to leave.

"Your body is a tool." Maul was on the offense, striking at her with one hand behind his back like all those months ago on Janix. "It will hurt. It will bleed and beg you to stop, but you will not, because pain is the greatest teacher you will have. Stop running from it and use it."

Devon did.

She didn't mean to. The temple burning, hunger, Master Daki's death, and her body betraying her in front of the one person she could not bear to be weak in front of tore from her in one feral scream. The Force rippled and flattened the rain, pushing Maul back just a few feet from her. Around the clearing, the training droids seized mid-stride and dropped, sparking in the mud.

For a moment, the world fell silent. Devon stared at her hands, shivering from adrenaline coursing through her veins. That felt good. She was powerful.

Maul clapped. She looked up and saw that twisted grin he wore when he was satisfied.

"Good," Maul said. "That was an excellent use of your rage, Devon."

Shame rushed back over her, and she turned to run. She got three steps before Maul grabbed her wrist. Not hard. He was always firm, but never rough.

"I did not say we were done here," he said. "Your training for today is far from over."

The last thread holding Devon together snapped.

"You want to know what's wrong with me?!" she yelled, tears and rain indistinguishable on her face. "I got my period, okay?! I haven't had it for over a year! And I've had toilet paper shoved in my pants since this morning because it's all I have! I just wanted to get through the day without you finding out, so I can go to the market tonight—" her breath hitched. "So now you know. Is that enough for you, or do you want me to bleed all over myself as part of my training, Master?!"

The rain fell around them. Maul said nothing, and let go of her wrist.

Devon curled on the floor of her shower with the water running as hot as it would go, and sobbed. Ugly, and quiet out of habit, both hands covering her mouth. The water ran pink then clear. She cried for the blood, the clap, Maul's horrible proud grin, and for the girl who felt safe enough to tell Master Daki about her period. Because he was warm and safe, and Devon missed him so much.

Then she stood, scrubbed the blood and grit from her body and shut it off with the water valve.

Fine. Devon would be fine. She lived through worse.

She dried off, rebuilt the wad of toilet paper in her underwear, and dressed in the last set of clothes she had. In the scratched mirror, her eyes were swollen and somehow, even though only a handful of months had passed since Janix, Devon thought she looked older.

She draped herself in her cloak and pulled the cowl over her head. She would go to the market, buy what she needed with her own damn credits, then act like this whole thing never happened. If Maul had anything to say about it, he could talk to an open airlock for all Devon cared.

She exited her room and made her way to the ramp.

Maul was already there and not in the way Devon had braced for. He sat on his speeder at the bottom of the ramp, cowl up, watching the rain from underneath the lip of the wing. Despite his crossed arms, Maul did not appear angry. He looked settled, ready, and faintly impatient, like the moments before a mission.

Devon stopped at the bottom of the ramp and stared at him.

"There's another round of storms in the coming hours," Maul said, and turned the ignition. "You will not walk there in this weather. Get on."

Maul checked the weather, and waited there, for who knows how long, for her. Devon didn't know what to do with that. She didn't even know how to feel about it.

"I can go by myself," she said. It came out with less fight than she intended.

"This is not a discussion." Maul finally looked at her, his hands now gripping the handlebars. "You were unprepared today and should have told me before. See that it does not happen that way again."

That was it, the whole chastisement. Devon expected a lecture, disgust, to be told that this was a failure on her end and the humiliation was self-inflicted. Or, best case scenario, Maul would just ignore her.

I can tell you are settled on who you believe I am, he'd told her once. She thought he was full of bantha shit then, but Maul continued to prove her wrong.

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat. She was not going to cry in front of him twice in one day. Pulling the cowl lower on her face, Devon climbed onto the speeder behind Maul.

"Hold on," he said.

She did.

The market was a covered sprawl at the end of the port district, awnings drumming under the rain. Steam from the food stalls misted in the air. The smell of meat and fried dough was divine to Devon, who had spent the past year living off of rations and MRE's. Maul dropped her off while he parked the speeder in a garage, because of course he did. He found her in one of the stalls shortly after, always one pace behind, radiating malice.

The effect on the market was immediate. Vendors who called out to stragglers took one look at the black mass over Devon's shoulder and found something to reorganize. A pickpocket she clocked down the aisle made eye contact with Maul, and scurried away. She didn't understand why Maul had insisted on joining her— at the very least, he could have waited in the garage. Maybe Devon should have cared about him striking fear into the hearts of innocent shoppers, but she realized she didn't mind all that much.

The stall she needed was near the back, run by an old Theelin woman who took one look at Maul looming over her shoulder, raised her brows, then looked back to Devon.

"That your bodyguard, sweetie?"

She smiled. "Something like that."

Devon bought what she needed with her own credits, and a few snacks because she deserved it. Maul, for his part, spent the entire transaction as a sentinel over a display of decorative soaps, arms crossed. He stared down anyone that came within five meters, apparently prepared to defend Devon's honor against lavender and all its allies. He did not look at what she bought. He did not comment on what she bought. When she turned around with the bag in her hand, he simply peeled off the display and fell back into position at her shoulder.

And if Maul grew impatient while Devon lingered around the food stalls and purchased meat skewers and pastries, he didn't show it.

They were almost back to the speeder when he asked, "You have what you require?"

Devon paused. That was…the softest voice that Maul had ever used in the time that she'd known him.

"Yeah," she said.

"Good." Maul swung onto the speeder and turned the ignition. "Then we return."

She secured her items into the saddlebag and climbed on behind him.

Later that night, Devon curled in her bunk with her knees drawn up, breathing through the cramps, when there was a knock on her door. She sat up on her bed and stared for half a second. Maul never, ever came to her room.

"Come in."

He slipped inside, carrying an array of items that he set on her nightstand. A thermal pack, already activated and radiating heat. A second one, inert, beside it, for when it cooled. A cup of some sort of freshly brewed tea, and a pill pack.

"The analgesic is dosed for your weight. Take it with the tea; the ginger will settle the cramping." He used his mission parameter voice, soft and flat. "Menstruating heavily can lead to anemia. Given your history, you have an elevated risk. Inform me if the bleeding worsens, immediately. I will run a medscan tomorrow to check your iron levels."

Devon stared at him, slack-jawed. "I…okay."

She was beginning to feel really stupid for not telling Maul in the first place, since he clearly took this seriously. Which was so utterly bizarre that Devon wished she could tell someone about it. She thought about messaging Rylee.

Maul stood there silently long enough that Devon felt awkward.

"You were physically compromised today and concealed it from me," he said, finally. "Had the bolt you took been real, you would have been significantly wounded. Why did you not tell me?"

She looked down in the tea. At this hour, she was too exhausted to come up with a deflection or throw a wall up. And it was clear that Maul was trying to do…something. At the very least, Devon owed him the truth.

"I was embarrassed…" Her thumb traced the rim of the cup. "I'd been with Master Daki for so long that it was easy to tell him stuff like that. He would've just handled it. I…didn't know what your reaction would be. I didn't think you were someone I could tell."

The room went still.

Outside, the rain pattered against the hull. Fear was not what kept Devon from looking him in the eye. It was the embarrassment. This was the most personal conversation they'd had since she'd met him. And she just admitted that she didn't find Maul safe. But…wasn't that the way of the Sith? Did Devon need to find safety in him? Either way, the animal part of her brain braced for a barrage of anger or reprimand.

Neither of which came next. No flare in the Force. No biting words, lecture, or drill at dawn, just silence drawn out for far too long.

"Take the medication before you sleep," Maul said. "I will scan you when you wake."

He turned and went to the door, then paused at the threshold.

"Daki is gone. I am your master now." The door slid open. "You need not fear my reaction to something troubling you. Only failure."

And with that, Maul left the room.

Devon sat there for long enough for the tea to cool in her hands. Then she took the medication, placed the thermal pack on her abdomen, and lay down in the dark, staring at the door. He hadn't argued, defended himself, or flinched. Maul just accepted it. She fell asleep before she could decipher what that meant.

The scan came back the next morning just as he predicted. Low iron. Supplements appeared at breakfast with no comment other than instructions to take them with food. Devon took them, because arguing with Maul was a zero-sum game. Training resumed. Neither of them spoke of the incident again.

Three weeks later, her datapad chimed with a requisitions update she hadn't asked for. Supply manifests were his domain— nothing on the list ever concerned her beyond ration counts. But she read the notification anyway.

It was a standing order on a monthly schedule. The products Devon bought at the market. Same brand, absorbency, and in quantities counted with a reserve margin on top. Below that, a ninety-day supply of iron supplements and analgesics. At the very bottom of the manifest were the snacks she bought at the market, including the pastries and meat skewers.

Maul catalogued her purchases that night. Every other line item could be classified as tactical but not pastries or meat skewers.

You need not fear my reaction to something troubling you, he'd said in her doorway three weeks ago. Devon fell asleep that night not knowing whether to believe it.

She thanked Maul later that day. He didn't reply.

Devon felt safe. For now.