Hey again! So this is chapter two, re-written, and I really want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing my story! I promise this is going to be a lot better. There is quite a bit of torture in this chapter, and it may or may not be a little graphic. I'm not exactly sure. Just a little warning for the more squeamish ew-torture peoples out there.
He had long since lost track of the time he'd spent in this wretched place.
In the first few days—or were they mere hours?—Obi-Wan had been able to tell whether it was night or day depending on the dim light filtering in through tiny cracks in the stone walls.
That was before the torture began, when Alpha was still by his side and he could count on a rescue from the Republic or Anakin soon enough. Obi-Wan didn't remember anything after the explosion that had knocked him out cold when a certain ARC clone trooper fell on him. They had been forgotten for a while, occasionally waking up to small bowls of something passing as food and a little water. Talking hadn't done them good, for both knew of what lay ahead if they were truly captured by Separatists.
Finally, their captor came for a visit.
Asajj Ventress.
She had come to gloat over her latest success, carrying on the usual seemingly polite conversations with Obi-Wan, warning of far worse days to come. He didn't doubt her threats for a second. She eventually left, leaving the two men alone to silently contemplate the meaning of her words.
Obi-Wan and Alpha had been separated after a while, with Obi-Wan being taken—well, dragged really—from their shared cell into one of his own. There, he had been bound, gagged and chained to a wall. How uncivilized. The rough leather straps bit into his wrists when he moved and there was no way to move for basic necessities. Annoying, yes. Humiliating, a bit. Painful….not nearly as much as what came almost immediately after.
The cell must have had Force-dampeners built into the walls, for he could no longer sense or use the Force. He had panicked in the beginning—the Force was as much a part of him as one of his limbs. Having that taken from him after having it nearby since he could remember…that was a severe blow.
Ventress had waltzed into the small room hours later, mocking the Jedi glaring at her on the floor as the guards behind her laughed stupidly. Obi-Wan merely rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh when she listed the many faults of the Jedi Order.
He regretted taking such times for granted.
Ventress motioned to a guard, who unchained the Jedi from the wall and hauled him to his feet, still bound. Obi-Wan began to notice the many—rather scary looking—instruments the guards carried, and the chains and manacles on the walls.
He soon learned what they were for.
It started simple enough, nothing he hadn't faced before; the electro shocks, the blows, the hurling about being unable to defend himself. It was mere child's play compared to some of the injuries he had sustained over the past few years alone. Yes, it hurt, but he handled it with ease.
And then came the more aggressive devices. Obi-Wan remembered a needle slipping into his arm, twisting away from whatever it contained and being stunned by a beefy fist. He hadn't known what the concoction inside was for but it soon became all too clear. As soon as the liquid entered his system, Ventress took just the tip of a vibroblade and barely nicked his arm. It was tiny, something he could have gotten from a mishap inside the archives or maybe from a piece of parchment from one of the more crude planets out there. But this cut. This cut felt as if his entire arm was being sawed through with a dull knife. It kriffing hurt, just that one little cut, and suddenly Obi-Wan knew what the drug had been.
He recalled reading about a few types of drugs that enhanced pain receptors in the brain and lowered pain thresholds. In some cases, the slightest scratch meant unbearable agony.
Ventress smirked as he cried out from the one little cut, knowing the drug's effects were working and this wouldn't take long at all.
Obi-Wan knew he was strong; he was a Jedi, after all. They were trained for situations like these, taught how to avoid capture and survive torture if the latter happened. But nothing could prepare him for the onslaught his nerves were taking; nothing could stop the screams ripped from his throat. Each and every second ticked by at an unbearably slow rate, bringing more and more pain.
Obi-Wan was slammed against and cuffed to the wall by his wrists, spread-eagled, head banging against rough stone. He cried out when someone—he couldn't be sure who—took a whip to his back, again and again, until he no longer knew how many lashes there had been. Vibroblades sliced easily through skin and muscle like a sailboat through water, and lightsabers burned his skin when they almost touched him. The drug only enhanced what would have already been agony, making the assault on his body a million times worse.
Ventress laughed cruelly the whole time, watching when she wasn't busy inflicting pain on the Jedi herself.
Finally, after what must have been hours of torture, pain and humiliation, it finally ceased. He was dropped to the floor, chained to the wall once more, kicked sharply in the ribs and left alone. His throat was raw from screaming, his always neat and pristinely kept tunics were slashed and soaked with blood. Obi-Wan could barely move; not that he wanted to, it was too painful to even roll over.
He was only glad that there was nobody to see him cry.
That day was three months ago.
Obi-Wan only knew the time that had passed because Ventress told him, another tactic to get him to break. In the beginning, when the hope of a rescue was still a possibility, he had stayed strong by reassuring himself of the inevitable Anakin rushing to his aid without thinking first, boasting of his latest triumph and taunting his former Master about having to save his rear-end once more. He could count on his former padawan to save him. Anakin would come for Obi-Wan. He always did.
Ventress taunted him again and again about the lack of Republic troops storming the prison. Obi-Wan wouldn't listen, too caught up in the newest torture to hear her words. Even when he screamed and sobbed in pain, when his faith in the Force wavered ever so slightly, he hadn't given up hope. He repeated one sentence on his head over and over again, just to keep himself sane.
Anakin will come…Anakin will come…he will…will…AH! A sharp cry echoed the one in his mind as a vibroblade dug into his shoulder, scraping the bone as warm, sticky blood rushed down his arm. Obi-Wan had never experienced this kind of assault on his body, this burning pain that never ceased or lessened, growing worse with each waking moment.
And by the time Ventress told him how much time had passed, Obi-Wan had long since given up on hopes of a rescue. Of course he had expected the chance that if losing one Jedi meant the lives of others would be saved, then no doubt the council wouldn't waste valuable resources on rescuing him. The reject padawan who would have been a farmer if Qui-Gon Jinn hadn't been kind enough to give him a second chance, who left the Order and then expected to automatically be let in again when he changed his mind, who ultimately failed his Master in the end. Of course the Jedi wouldn't deem him worthy enough to be saved when an entire planet needed what would have been spent on saving his pathetic life. If Obi-Wan died here, then it wouldn't be for nothing if lives elsewhere were saved.
But Anakin….Obi-Wan knew his former apprentice well enough to know that nothing could stop him if someone he loved was in danger. If Anakin didn't come for him, then it meant he didn't care. Obi-Wan supposed he never did anyway. And why should he? Anakin never wanted him as his master; he hated him for not dying instead of Qui-Gon. He wouldn't even let Obi-Wan touch him anymore, shrugging the offensive hand off his shoulder when his Master was only trying to help. Anakin never came for him like he usually did. He left Obi-Wan there to die.
The day he realized that was the day Obi-Wan had given up any hope of surviving this hell. That was the day he gave in to Ventress.
He no longer tried to struggle against her poisonous words. He begged and pleaded with her to just end his measly life already, but she wouldn't take his pleas. Ventress didn't want mere words screamed when the pain she inflicted became too much; no, what she wanted was to break Obi-Wan's spirit completely, wanted to have the answer be "yes" the next time she asked him if he wanted to die instead of silence. Until that day came, Ventress swore she would never let her "favorite" prisoner go.
He had to be completely shattered before she let him die.
Anakin bolted upright once more, sobbing for breath as silent tears threatened him again. It was that dream again.
The one with Obi-Wan.
He had tried to explain to the council about his nightmares; he had been accused of being in denial. Padme's eyes glazed over if he started speaking of his belief that his Master was still alive. Anakin would find a way to rescue his Master; he simple would not let Obi-Wan die.
The bond still quivered with his pain as Anakin clenched his eyes shut so as to not let the tears fall. He wouldn't cry. Not now. He would when Obi-Wan was found and brought home safely, out of pure joy and relief. But until then, Anakin had to make do with the silent promise that he would save his Master soon.
Soon wasn't nearly soon enough, though.
Okay, so this chapter was mainly Obi-Wan but I wanted to get Ani in there too. What did you think? I promise there will be more Ani/Obi fluff to come, but unless you review that won't happen. But have no fear, dear readers: An Obi rescue is on the way!
Remeber: The more reviews, the faster the next chapter comes out.
