(A/N) Thanks for the Reviews! They inspire me to keep writing! You all are awesome, hope you enjoy this chapter.
Anakin stood in the court of Queen Miraj's palace, watching the false peace of the Zygerrian city move around him. There was another group of slaves moving in, he had seen the freighter landing only moments before. He was waiting, having located Ashoka her suspended cage on the palace awning, and now he needed Obi-Wan.
He had not known, in his banishment form the palace the day before, that Dooku had been on the planet until far too late when he had seen his ship disappear hours earlier. Whatever Dooku was doing, it wasn't good; but the Queen had given no indication that anything was out of the ordinary. She had not asked him that day to join her again, although he could feel the question hovering between them each time she looked over at him.
He stood, enshrouding himself with the protection of the force. He could feel Ashoka's connection was strong, she was meditating, and he tried to reach out to Obi-Wan. The unshakeable bond with his former master was something he had always cherished and what had served as an anchor for him to control his emotions. Now, when he reached out along that familiar pathway, he felt hollow, a low buzzing coming to his brain.
"It is not too late, Skywalker." The Queen's heavily accented voice broke his concentration, right when he had felt he was on the verge of more than a severed connection. "Your friends are still alive for now."
"Where is Obi-Wan?" He asked, keeping his eyes closed, and his face turned away from her and towards the city.
"I'll be honestly with you," He felt her body press against his side. "I no longer know."
Anakin tried to reach out again with the force, desperate for an indication that his master was close, or at the very least, still alive. "You ordered his removal form this system."
"Yes." She said, and he resisted the urge to recoil in disgust as she took his hand in her own. "But other arrangements have been made." He opened his eyes now to stare at her, her teeth curled into a cruel smile, her eyes watching the city that had been his focus minutes before. "As much as I would have loved to keep the Jedi in my custody, I was convinced he was needed elsewhere." He stepped away from her, her anger clear at his motions.
"Is he still alive?" Anakin could feel his own rage boiling in his chest. He tried to release it into the force, but his attachment to his former master, a bond forbidden by the Jedi Code, was keeping him from it.
"Like I said, I don't know." She was almost purring, and he was reliving horrible memories from his childhood where slavers, before they had been sold to Watto, had looked at him with that same expression. Void, meaningless, and cruel, it was usually attached to some form of punishment. A night without food, extra hours of work, a beating; all with that same visage of sadistic happiness. "He isn't mine anymore."
"Obi-Wan doesn't belong to anyone."
She laughed at him, and he was forced, again, to listen to her words about the Jedi Order, the slaves of the Galactic Republic.
When Obi-wan woke up, he was convinced that at some point in his sleep, he had been set on fire. His entire body felt burned, and stiff. He tried to stretch exhausted limbs, but as he did, he felt the new skin that had closed over his last marks tear and blood ooze down his now bare back. What had been left of his tunic was gone, his boots as well, but also the collar that had been forced around his neck. Instead, he could feel what seemed like a knife shoved into his body next to his collar bone. He craned his neck, trying to see it in the darkness of his cell. It was a force suppressant, a hard, round object that had been forced through is skin and wrapped around his collarbone. He had seen other Jedi, ones in the Citadel, who had them. Metal spindles extended from the top parts and wrapped themselves around collarbones; they required surgery to remove, try to remove one by yourself and risk bleeding to death form hitting a major artery.
"Rex?" He said, surprised how rough his voice sounded. He could barely get it above a whisper, his throat was dry, his mouth tasted of old blood.
"Right here, General." The clone sounded almost normal, and he let out a sigh of relief. "Do you feel alright?"
Obi-wan wasn't sure alright would be the way to describe it. Everything on his body hurt in some form or another. Every limb he could move that wasn't fastened to the wall, screamed in protest. Every muscle he tried to flex sent a new rush of pain over him, every piece of skin felt taut. But at least he was not dead. "I'm fine. How about you?"
"They haven't taken much of an interest in me here." Rex answered, and Obi-Wan took that as a sign he was okay. "You're really what they care about. They came in earlier and put that thing in your chest. I think they were waiting on you to wake up." As if Rex had spoken in some sort of magic language, the door to their joint cell opened. The light of the hallway, though dim, was almost blinding. The silhouette of Count Dooku was in the doorway, and he flicked on a dull light switch that ignited a bulb in the middle of the room. The light was weak, but as Dooku shut the door, it was much easier to see with it or guidance. Rex looked the same as he had on Kadavo, his eye black but fading to a dark purple, his shirt, like Obi-wan's, gone.
"Do you know where you are, Kenobi?" Dooku stood facing the General. Obi-wan felt like laughing, Rex was absolutely right. He suspected the Clone was here to draw more Jedi to their rescue, or to convince Obi-wan to answer questions.
"Your lovely home, I would assume." His tongue felt thick, and he realized how much he wanted a drink. His hands were lax at his sides, but as he tried to move his arms, his joints flared, and the chains gave him less than an inch of motion.
"Serreno." Dooku's usual tone was marked by annoyance. "This is a war prison, Kenobi. It hasn't been utilized in many years, since the Republic banned the practices done here." He paused, and Obi-wan could see his smile under his white beard. He was reminded of Dooku's age, but even as a man older than 80, the Count certainly had all of his wits about him. "I felt that perhaps it was time for it to reopen."
"I'm glad to know you could afford to make special accommodations on our account, Dooku." Obi-wan could feel Rex's rough breath as he choked down a laugh at Obi-wan's words. Dooku did not share the sentiment.
Obi-wan felt a hand tighten around his throat, his body being lifted off the floor. His hands came free form the wall, but were immediately bound together behind his back. He was eye level with Dooku, the Count's lips turned upwards in a cruel smile. Obi-Wan gasped for breath, but no relief came.
"We have a few questions for you Kenobi," Dooku closed his hand tighter, and Obi-wan saw black spots swim in front of him. "It would be to your and the clones benefit to answer them." The door opened again, Obi-wan slamming his eyes shut as two guards took hold of him by his bound arms and the grip on his throat released. He sucked in air, the exaggerated motion of it stretching his already abused body, and the pair of guards pushed him roughly down the hall, shoving him into a room where it was very clear what was happening.
Fifteen minutes later, Obi-Wan Kenobi was holding in a scream and desperately trying to release his consciousness as a whip cut another line across his back. Or, he thought to himself, whatever was left of his back. Dooku's questions had come to no avail, he had so far answered none of them. His arms had been hoisted and tied above his head to a wall, his back exposed to a guard who he wasn't sure was bright enough to talk. But he was strong enough to tie up the Jedi, and more than strong enough to swing a whip.
"Where are the Outer Rim medical units?" Dooku's voice came form the back of the cell, as if he was bored of their conversation. Obi-wan said nothing, and waited, knowing what was coming.
Anakin Skywalker sat straight up on the sleep couch the Queen had allotted him. He had been trying all night to reach Obi-Wan's force signature. But he had been unsuccessful, and had finally fallen asleep to his own chagrin. But now, he could feel something. It was not what he had been trying for, not what he wanted. It was an image of his master, torn, bloody, and unconscious. But the image wasn't form his Master's force signature.
It was Dooku's.