Hello, beautiful readers!

This is my first real attempt at a Star Wars fanfic. I've been wanting to for a while, and I have a notebook full of ideas and crossed-out beginnings, but this is the first one I've really gotten into. Just my thoughts on what could've happened if Obi-Wan and Rex had stayed down in the slave pits in "Escape from Kadavo" until Anakin's rescue.

Read and enjoy! Criticism is welcome - anything to make this better is greatly appreciated :)

-Allana

Obi-Wan stumbled slightly over a stone, his shovelful of rocks and minerals scattering across the hard ground. A slave driver's voice rang out angrily.

"Watch it, you lazy scug!" An electrowhip snapped, and Obi-Wan bit back a cry as a fresh line of pain opened across his back, stretching from shoulder to hip.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, ducking his head. "It won't happen again -"

"Shut up!" Another snap from the whip; he gritted his teeth. "No one told you to speak!" Again the whip came down and this time, he couldn't hold back the cry of pain. The guard laughed. "The famous Jedi Master, eh? Not so tough now, are you?" Crack. The whip bit into his already-searing back.

"Hey!" Rex's voice sounded, and Obi-Wan looked up in time to see the Captain reach out and block the downward swing of the electrowhip, letting it coil around his wrist. "That's enough!" The guard snarled, jerked the whip back, and struck the clone hard across the face.

"Back to work, both of you," he growled, and stalked off to harass another slave group. Rex offered a hand to the Jedi, pulling him to his feet. Obi-Wan winced as the pain in his back flared.

"Thank you, my friend," he said quietly, glancing sideways at the slave drivers. "You did not have to do that."

"Yes I did, General," Rex whispered, picking up Obi-Wan's shovel and pushing it into his hand. "My job here's to protect you, sir, whether you like it or not. It's my duty." Obi-Wan sighed.

"I appreciate that, Rex," he replied as he began shoveling again.

"Shut it!" The two received stinging lashes from a slave driver that had somehow slipped up behind them without their noticing. They shared a look, Obi-Wan silently apologizing, and went back to work.

By the end of the day, Obi-Wan had received three more beatings from different guards. The Zygerrians seemed to take a particularly savage glee in tormenting a Jedi they knew would not - could not - fight back.

He leaned heavily on Rex's shoulder as they were herded back to the barracks like livestock. Every particle of his body ached; his back burned like fire. He felt drained, exhausted. Rex guided him to the hard, narrow shelf that served as his bunk and helped him up onto it. He vanished into the throng of slaves shuffling tiredly to their respective places, returning a moment later with a small cup of water, which he passed up to Obi-Wan. He accepted it gratefully, draining the tiny cup in two gulps. Rex clapped him on the shoulder.

"Get some rest, sir," he said quietly. "Help will come, I'm sure of it." Obi-Wan nodded wordlessly, and Rex turned away to clamber onto his own bunk. Obi-Wan rested his head against the beam behind him, doing his best to block out the pain radiating through his body.

He closed his eyes.

Two weeks had passed since the Jedi and the Captain had arrived in the Kadavo system, and Obi-Wan was exhausted. Not only was he forced to bear the same heavy load as the other slaves, but the guards' sadistic game had yet to abate. They watched him like hawks, seizing on any and every opportunity to bring a whip or electrostaff down on his back. Every movement now caused him pain; previously simple tasks became progressively more difficult as his strength faded, in turn giving the guards more reason to punish him.

He had all but given up hope. There had been no word or sign from the Republic, no sign of Anakin and Ahsoka. He feared they were in the same situation as himself, or worse.

The first few times he had taken a truly severe beating, Rex had stepped in in an effort to protect him, earning himself a similar punishment. After the third time this occurred, Obi-Wan directly ordered Rex to stop. The Captain was furious, but at Obi-Wan's insistence reluctantly agreed. Seeing Rex stand to one side, distressed but unable to help, only urged the guards to new heights. Watching the clone squirm was, to them, an added bonus.

So Obi-Wan was not surprised to hear the mocking voices of the slave drivers behind him. He gritted his teeth and continued to work, bracing himself for the bite of the whip.

He was not expecting the currents of electricity that suddenly coursed through his body like fire as one of the guards pressed the end of his electrostaff to the collar encircling his neck. He collapsed, screaming in pain, muscles spasming uncontrollably. The guard laughed; others jeered and egged their compatriot on as Obi-Wan convulsed on the hard ground.

He didn't know how much time passed before the guard raised the staff away from him.

"Get up, scug," he growled, kicking Obi-Wan viciously in the side and eliciting a sharp gasp from the Jedi. "I said get up!" An electrowhip snapped; Obi-Wan arched his back as a fresh line of pain erupted across his already-mutilated body.

The lash fell again. A second guard joined the first, and they alternated swings.

Again.

And again.

The edges of his vision whited out. He was dimly aware of a voice crying out in pain, echoing as though from a great distance. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized the voice was his own.

Rex was shouting now; Obi-Wan seized on the familiarity of the voice, clinging to it like a lifeline.

"-up, General!" Rex was saying. "You have to get up, they're not going to stop until you do!"

"Shut it!" A guard bellowed. A thud, a curse. Obi-Wan raised his head with a supreme effort, searching for the Captain. He found him standing not far off, his path blocked by an angry guard and with blood streaming from a cut on his face.

"Get up!" Rex shouted, dodging the guard's next blow. Obi-Wan struggled to push himself up, letting out a barely-stifled moan as pain seared through him. He managed to prop himself on his forearms where he stayed, trembling, for a moment, before his arms gave out. He hit the ground again.

Another current ripped through him, driving him into the ground with an agonized cry. Darkness swirled across his vision, and his world dissolved into sound bytes, flashing images:

Rex was shouting again, a guard shouting back.

The slave driver above him was taunting him, mocking his pain as he writhed on the ground covered in sweat, blood, and filth.

The pain was intensifying, and now his very atoms must be tearing themselves apart; there was no other way he could be in such agony.

He was sobbing, begging for release.

A new voice, filled with rage.

A blue flash.

The distinctive hum of a lightsaber.

Sparks. The searing current vanished.

Darkness.