where Sue and Mary learn more about honorable Jedi Masters and persistent Sith Lords.

Mary & Sue
Or the Tragical History of How Allah Sent Us a Camel
and What Happened Next

Written by Mary and Sue (of course!)


Rating:        PG.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns da boys. We make no money and what little we do have is spent entirely on butter and beer..

Summary: Warning! This is the classical Mary Sue at its best, so of course, the story will follow all rules of classical marysuedom, which means, there are some hot Force-boys, some absolutely irresistible Earth-girls (what did you think? Why would we want to write about being ugly, stupid and in general unremarkable?), some action, some funny stuff, some hot stuff, and a whole lot of general silliness. But it is not humour -- marysuedom is a serious business.   
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Mary & Sue
Initial posting: On dmeb2.
Acknowledgement: Thankyousas to Nocturne for betaing this beast into submission!
Note: The name of God the Great and Gracious is used more than once in this story. Although the whole story is for entertainment, we don't intend blasphemy.


 

Chapter three

where Sue and Mary learn more about honorable Jedi Masters and persistent Sith Lords


 
Fight: Sue’s POV
 

With his last words we prepared to go to the house. Suddenly, I felt Qui-Gon tense. A black flash barred our way. Darth Maul. Fully dressed and in raged. Mary stood in the entrance, shoulders sagging in defeat. "I'm sorry," she muttered, "I tried. I really did."

With a low growl Qui-Gon nudged me gently to join her, shrugging out of his Jedi cloak. I ran to Mary and, feeling my knees go weak, sat down at the stairs before the main door of the house. She sat down too and took my hand.

The men faced each other. With an unbearably slow and elegant movement both drew and ignited their lightsabres. We didn’t dare to breathe.

If it comes to that. I knew the moment would come, but I had hoped it wouldn’t come so soon.

The duelists still faced each other, but now even we Force-inexperienced earthlings could sense the silent fight. The power was concentrated at the tips of the blades. The enemies stared each other down, pulled together yet held apart like poles of a magnet, and the Force practically sizzled between them.

One movement and the balance would be gone.

And you’ll have been down and out.

Or …?

The black one assaulted with a fast, straight thrust forward! Immediately the light one was a tiny — but sufficient — distance away from the red sabre-tip, the green blade high above the head to let it fall down at the rash attacker!

I pressed Mary’s hand. Suddenly the fighters reassumed their former positions. Again motionless. Not even breathing harder. However, something had changed. Something unclear … Eventually we became aware of it as the Sith fell down on his knees and the Jedi lowered his sabre at the same time.

No-one — not even Yoda — would have had the force to stop Mary and me running to Maul. Together with Qui we surrounded the fallen one. The Sith had closed his eyes in pain or … shame? Between his gritted teeth he uttered, ”I’m in your hands, Jedi. Finish it.”

Qui-Gon carefully removed the long hilt of lightsabre from the Sith’s reach and patted his body for concealed weapons, before answering. ”It may come as a surprise to you, young Sith, but I won’t ‘finish it’, as you put it. Not here, not now. Not unless you force me to. I have given my word.”

The striped warrior let out a frustrated, anguished, pain-ridden howl.

”But I’ll be watching you,” the Jedi added. ”You’re my prisoner of war, so to speak. I hope you will respect the hospitality extended to you by these two ladies. It wouldn’t be wise to take any rash actions.”

The Sith was silent.

”Well? Do I have your word?”

”This time,” the black one growled.

”Very well. This time,” answered the Jedi serenely, while he kneeled down and his hands knowingly inspected the body of his enemy. As he had found what he had obviously searched for, the Sith snarled again. Qui looked up at him, smiling wryly, and said, ”Don’t worry, you shall eventually have your revenge. I won’t run away and we will fight again. But not until you’re completely healed, I think.” Qui-Gon’s calm voice left no doubt — the reason for Mauls weakness was injury.

The injury. The hideous scar that divided his midsection and marred his beautiful tattoos. And more.

”I accept,” Maul said very stiffly and formally.

”Thank you.”

Qui-Gon nodded and extended a hand to help him up, but the Zabrak flinched away: ”I don’t need your help, Jedi.”

Qui squatted before him. ”Look, young Sith. Perhaps you don’t realize, but we are stranded on a possibly hostile planet, with no space travel capabilities, no intergalactic communications, nothing that we need to get away. We’re left to our own resources. These two ladies have been kind enough to provide us with shelter and food. The least we could do is be civil to them. And,” he measured the black-robed body and Mary’s lithe standing by helpfully, ”perhaps you are too heavy for them to carry in, so I think I’ll help them. Allow me.”

Maul bared his teeth, but did not protest when Qui-Gon helped him stand. He also tried not to lean on Mary too heavily, when they moved carefully to the house. He was shivering. With a worried look, Qui touched his forehead. ”You’re running a fever. Let’s get you back to bed. Girls, have you got something against fever? And some painkiller, perhaps.”

We exchanged glances. ”I’m not sure … everything we have is too old …”

”And how can you be sure how it will work on his physiology?”

Suddenly Maul stopped. ”I … feel …sick.” He bent over and everything he had eaten this morning came out with a vengeance, as Qui-Gon held his convulsing body. Mary barely managed to jump out of the way and the Jedi threw her an apologetic glance.

”That’s okay,” Mary soothed. ”It happens. Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”
 
 
 
 

Playing House: Sue’s POV
 
 

Back in the room, we undressed him once again. Qui-Gon examined him.

”I’m no specialist, but it seems as if you haven’t had any medical treatment.”

”Yes,” Maul rasped.

”None? In one year – none at all? How is that possible?”

Maul simply looked away, ignoring the question.

”It would be best if you could get professional help in a hospital,” Qui said.

”No!” Maul said, in a small but very determined and clear voice. ”No hospitals. No doctors.”

”No? But we know nothing about medicine!” I was almost angry. How the heck did he hope to deal with the wreckage he was? How had he been able to keep himself in one piece in the first place, with all this pain?

Qui-Gon looked in our confused, worried, indecisive faces and decided it was finally time to take matters in his own capable hands.

”Okay then. I'll try to think of something. Mary — please go get what you use for medicine here. We need — ah — fever, painkiller, disinfectant, something for the wounds. Do you use bacta here? No? Pity... but we’ll manage somehow. And something to soothe his digestive system. Obviously you are not accustomed to the food here, young Sith. Sue — bring some water. Then I need your help here.”
 

Later Qui-Gon and I sat on the porch, waiting for Mary and meanwhile sorting out which of the medications could be helpful or at least be not too incompatible with the alien physiology.

”I think I’ll have to try and heal him with Force,” he said, shoving the whole pile of boxes aside with a final gesture.

I was confused. ”But you said there is no Force here.”

”I said I cannot feel any Force. And neither can he. Or rather, I feel something, but it’s incredibly vague. But there must be some kind of Force. It is in all life. So I guess if I try, it wouldn’t do any harm.”

I was awed. He was going to share his own energy with his archenemy — just so. Even knowing that afterwards he would fight the Zabrak, and kill him, or be killed. You are compassion incarnate, I thought.

”He probably won’t like it,” Qui went on.

”Why? Doesn’t he want to get better?”

Qui quirked one corner of his mouth in an almost-smile that was so beautiful on his face. ”You see, the Force we use is — feels — different.”

”Ah,” I interrupted, ”the light side—dark side business.”

”Precisely. And it won’t be easy for him to put up with being filled with light. He may be nauseated, in fact.”

I was quiet, digesting the information.

”Qui,” I ventured finally, ”What about you?”

”What about me?”

”Weren’t you also — on Naboo —”

”Oh yes. ” He smiled genuinely. ”But, you see, I have the Force. And friends.”

”Oh.” Was I supposed to read his mind?

”I was taken care of,” he explained. ”And, you see — the dark side cannot be used for healing. He has kept himself together — and done so in a most impressive way, in fact — but in this way you still must rely on medical help, or on natural healing processes. Whereas the light side works perhaps slower on symptoms, but all the more surely on their causes.”

”Oh.” This time it was an expression of understanding. ”So you’re … okay?”

”Yes.”

I had seen him shirtless, but I didn’t remember seeing any scar. Show me, show me, I wanted to say, but the Jedi’s whole personality positively exuded dignity and equanimity. Being frivolous with him somehow did not seem right. Pity …
 
 
 
 

Well, with our new guest it was like having a baby in the house: for two days we cleaned our Dark Lord, fed him, put him to sleep. The first evening almost turned into a disaster. Mary and I sat by his bedside with a bowl of oatmeal, giggling hysterically (”baby-food”, Maul had said derisively; ”Horse fodder,” I corrected him, laughing, as I saw his dismay). Mary guided a spoonful to his mouth, crooning, ”Say aaaaa …”

Maul probably wanted to kill us with his glare, but wisely kept his temper under control. We were aware that the situation was embarrassing, but we couldn’t help ourselves — it was altogether too funny and too unbelievable.

Being back into the kitchen with the residues of our vain attempts to feed the impatient patient, Mary asked: ”And who will hold the night-watch?”

Qui-Gon sent her a fast glance. ”You or Sue. I should better not pester him with my appearance. Furthermore, I must gather now what’s possible to prepare for the healing.” He left us.

I would not let Mary do the chores— she would be of more help when watching Maul, restless as she was worrying about him.
 
 
 
 

Nobility of Failure: Mary’s POV
 
 

It was silent in the room. So silent that I could hear the little noise Sue made in the kitchen and living room, as well as our Jedi pacing to and fro in his attic chamber. I stepped nearer to the bed. Maul’s breathing was inharmonious and flat. He looked as if he were wandering between sleep and unconsciousness. I placed a chair beside his bed, right next to his head, and sat down with a book, prepared for a long night watch.

As time went by, the sun started going down, but I couldn’t convince myself to make light. Perhaps it would disturb Maul’s sleep …

”Mary …”

Why? What? I must have been falling asleep while reading … I looked down on the bed. His eyes were open.

”I’m thirsty.” After a short hesitation he continued, ”Please, bring me some water.”

As I came back with the water he requested, he was struggling to sit upright.

”Stay, Maul. Spare your energy. I’ll hold your head while you drink.” He was intelligent enough — or probably weak enough —to accept my aid. And he also allowed me to refresh him by patting his face, neck and chest with a wet cloth. In a naughty afterthought I noticed, it was still astonishingly easy for me to suppress my baser instincts when dealing with him physically.

I waited for a word or a gesture of gratitude. But after I had finished, he just lay there, staring mute at the ceiling as if he were a life-size Han-Solo-In-Carbonite statue you can buy for 2000 bucks. Obviously Maul was nice when in need for something, but this something was not me. Not exactly an idea giving me an ego boost.

”…”

”You said something, Maul?”

”No … Yes. What are you reading?”

Looks like it’s too boring to play the mysterious sphinx, my Lord? ”It’s a book about the nobility of failure.”

He made a hissing sound somehow between laughter and pain: ”How nice. I didn’t expect such highly philosophical stuff in this underdeveloped world.”

”Philosophical stuff?" I straightened up indignantly. "I’d rather think this issue belongs to every-day life. Aren't there daily, hourly decisions to be made? Every single one tangled with other decisions made by other persons – who knows what will come from lighting up a cigar here and now?” I paused for a deep breath. ”And an underdeveloped world? In this world, to fight a war as a man-to-man-combat, using ineffective weapons like lightsabres, is called underdeveloped. To have ineffective production, like production with slaves or droids not designed for their tasks but for nice humanoid looks is called underdeveloped. I can add more, shall I?”

He frowned and moved his lips as if to say something, probably to disagree about lightsabres, but no sound came. Once again I offered him some water.

”Rest assured,” he finally said, sending me a sketch of a smile, ”that I dislike ineffectiveness. However, I doubt you have much serious experience with the nobility of failure.”

”Perhaps, perhaps not. Maybe you can give me some enlightenment about that issue.” I felt rather clever for having been able to establish a line of communication with the sullen Sith.

”Yes.” Breakdown of communication. Perhaps, I surmised, he feared that an extended exchange of thoughts could bring him closer to this human life-form he despised. He lay mute again, eyes closed.

”Maul?”

Slowly he opened his eyes ”I’m too tired. We can continue our little discussion tomorrow night.”

”Tomorrow night Sue will be watching over you,” I retorted sharply, feeling a tinge of jealousy.

”Sue? I’d prefer it would be you. And could you wet my face again? It feels good.” He hesitated. After another sketched smile he added: ”Please.”

Ah, the sweet feeling of triumph. I decided to do him the favor. To spare him discomfort would probably spare us later trouble when living with a healthy and active Sith. I don’t know a creature that could resist nice treatment, not even the neighbor’s dogs. And I supposed that to depend on the mercy of others when you’re helpless, was the worst scenario for a Dark Lord. Well, I could help him through.

As if regretting his abrupt ending of our talk, he again showed interest: ”You live alone here?”

”Well, obviously not, if you can count,” I grinned.

”Where’s your man?”

”My man? What man?”

He ignored my question. ”Why did you bring me here?”

I shrugged. ”Well, I couldn’t let you die out there, it didn’t seem right …”

”Die!” he sneered. ”Did it look as if I was going to die?”

”Well, it did… to me,” I explained.

”You were wrong,” he said coolly, but after a moment added in a subdued voice, almost as an afterthought: ”But your intention was honorable. I thank you.”

I shrugged, disavowing any gratitude. Again we were silent for several minutes. I was aware of the constant stare of his golden eyes. I think what I saw was some emotion there. I hoped it was interest.

Hoping for interest, Mary?

”Leave me alone, Mary.” His demanding voice blasted my musings away.

”Sure, your lordship?" I huffed. "I’m holding the night-watch if you need something.”

The expression of his face was unmistakable: ”If I have a need, I’ll let you know.”

I retreated without any objection before the hard staring gaze and the smile that made me shiver. And I had the bloody feeling he had the advantage somehow. However, Maul knew too, that we had a Jedi here. And I was dead sure Qui could show the Sith his limits.

* * *

End of chapter three. What will happen next?

"As Qui had predicted, the Sith was now up on a regular basis, although he tired easily. With studied casualness he loitered about in the house, looking around, peeping into all the rooms ...”
 


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