Warning for a brief scene of fairly non-graphic torture. Also I tried to make this plotline not confusing, but this is my first time ever writing switching between flashbacks and present tense, so hopefully the designation between the two is clear.
This chapter is set about a month after Chapter 3.
Just a quick stop at Mondovi, and then they'd be on their way to Ilum before Obi-Wan could say 'lightsaber crystal'.
That was what Qui-Gon had said.
And now Obi-Wan finds himself locked in the bowels of some sort of torture dungeon in the capital city of Mondovi, and the idea of actually ever making it to the crystal caves of Ilum seems about as likely as Mace Windu admitting that he is a secret fan of dancing, or Master Yoda speaking without riddles.
He tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob. He doesn't want to die here, chained up like an animal in a filthy prison cell; unable to use the Force and betrayed by his bruised, battered body. But with each hour that passes, this fate seems more and more likely. He is becoming weaker and weaker, and he knows it will not be long before they come back for another round of interrogation and torture.
In spite of all his Jedi training, he is not sure how much more he can take. He has been here for days already, and he has nothing more to give.
He struggles to breathe evenly through the tears,—deep, steady meditation breaths—too weak to reach up to wipe his eyes. Even though they have given him drugs that block him from reaching out for the comfort of the Force, he can still use his training.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
Painful inhale, painful exhale. He thinks a few of his ribs are broken, if not quite bruised at the very least.
There is no death, there is the Force.
He has had a good life. Good, but short. He has made a difference with his time; serving others as a Jedi.
It's just…there's so much left to do. He doesn't want to die. He is barely fourteen. Things are going really well with Qui-Gon ever since their bond had been renewed, and he is about to get his first real lightsaber.
But he will accept death should it come, because at least he is the one in this cell and not Qui-Gon. As long as his master lives on, he will be satisfied.
He just wishes they had never come to Mondovi in the first place.
Seven days earlier
"I've got a bad feeling about this, Master," Obi-Wan says from his position in the copilot's seat of their small star cruiser, watching the older Jedi's fingers fly over the keypad, typing in coordinates for the spaceport of Mondovi, a remote planet in the same system as Ilum.
Qui-Gon studies his apprentice for a moment. "You're just saying that because you're eager to skip Mondovi and get to the crystal caves. Patience, Padawan mine."
Obi-Wan lets out a huff that is a cross between sigh and laugh. "You know me well, Master." They have been planning this trip for nearly a month— Obi-Wan is finally going to attempt to get a crystal for a real lightsaber in the caves of Ilum! But just a few days ago, Qui-Gon's friend Brinna had hologrammed him, asking him to come for a visit on Mondovi.
She sounds very nice from Qui-Gon's stories, but in truth, he would really rather prefer not to stop at the small planet. Something about it feels slippery and murky to him, although he can't quite put words to the sensation. Looking at it now, coming up in the distance, it looks like a perfectly lovely place. He can see swirls of clouds on the atmospheric surface, and a lot of blue—it is an almost completely oceanic planet, according to the research Obi-Wan had done on his datapad on the journey here.
"I've told you, Obi-Wan, it will be only a brief detour. One night; perhaps two, and that's it. I have not seen Brinna for almost ten years, and for her to specifically ask for me to come visit her means that I cannot refuse. I feel that we are needed on this planet, even if I do not yet know why."
Obi-Wan holds back another sigh, nodding respectfully instead. The sentiment still transmits itself effortlessly over their bond, however, as everything does nowadays since their last mission brought them closer together. Qui-Gon smiles slightly in response, clearly amused by Obi-Wan's impatience to get his crystal for his very own lightsaber.
"I am sure that our visit will be peaceful, Padawan. You need not worry—this is a planet renowned for its boat construction and choral music, not armies and armadas."
Obi-Wan trusts his master, but he also trusts his instincts. Staring back at the blue planet that is growing closer and closer to their ship, he bites his lower lip, the nervous feeling growing stronger.
"I sure hope so, Master," he says.
Present
Obi-Wan's world has narrowed to two things—darkness and pain. So much pain, it is indescribable. He has never known anything like it before, even after all of the duels and fights he has been in throughout his years as a Jedi. He has never been kidnapped or imprisoned alone—he and Qui-Gon have spent time in jail cells from time to time when diplomatic missions have gone sour, but there was never actual torture involved and he was never alone, besides the Syndicat's attempt to renew him.
They had moved him to a different cell just a few hours ago, and he is still recovering from the transit, his limbs aching from the rough treatment of the guards' hands. He attempts to roll onto his side, almost passing out at the wave of anguish that rockets its way through his entire body.
"Hello?" He calls weakly. "Is anybody there?"
There is a long pause and then a gruff voice speaks up, cracked and rough from disuse. "I'm here, kid. Right across the hallway from you. Name's Lynk."
It takes Obi-Wan's pain-clouded mind a few minute to realize why the name Lynk feels like it should be significant. "You're Brinna's uncle! She's been looking for you."
Lynk's voice sounds suddenly much more alert and hopeful. "You know Brinna? Why is a kid like you in a hellhole like this?"
Obi-Wan lets out a sharp laugh. "It's a long story."
"Well, I've got lots of time. I don't think I'll be moving anywhere for a good while yet, kid."
Six days previous
"Qui!" A woman of an aquatic species rushes towards them as they exit the Mondovi spaceport. She is taller than Qui-Gon and slender, with almost translucent skin and slightly webbed fingers. According to his research, the Mondoviian species is capable of holding their breath underwater for much longer than humans, but they dwell on land.
Obi-Wan cranes his neck and looks around in amazement. The capital city, also called Mondovi, is set up as a labyrinth of canals. Everywhere he looks, he sees water and pristine white buildings.
He watches as Qui-Gon and the person that he assumes is Brinna greet other and embrace. Qui-Gon had briefly explained that he'd met Brinna some ten years ago while on a mission to another planet in the Ilum system. She had helped him sneak into an important government office, and he had broken her out of prison when she'd been arrested for helping him. According to Qui-Gon, they haven't been able to keep in touch much the past ten years.
Now they seem like they have never been apart from one another.
When they manage to finish their initial exclamations and greetings, Qui-Gon turns to Obi-Wan, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Brinna, this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Padawan, this is Brinna."
Obi-Wan attempts a bow but is stopped as Brinna pulls him into a spontaneous embrace. Her skin is cool and smooth, as though it is meant to be underwater. "So nice to meet you! You must be exhausted—are you hungry? You look like you must be hungry; growing boys always are. Qui-Gon, you should feed this child more; he's skin and bones!" She chides, pulling Obi-Wan along the canal with her. Obi-Wan swivels his head back around to make wide-eyed eye contact with his master, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Qui-Gon's eyes gleam at him with amusement.
Brinna begins pointing out buildings to them along the way. "That's the governor's house, and down the block is the school for all the children. Oh, and here's the capitol building—we do almost everything here." She pauses in front of the biggest building at all. It is an impressive sight, but Obi-Wan is busy trying to take small, even breaths through his mouth, feeling overwhelmed by the powerful scent of raw fish. They are on the main canal now, and vendors line the side of the path, selling fish and other strange-looking sea creatures out of their boats and sometimes little carts on solid ground.
When his nose finally adjusts, he can appreciate the town hall building much more—it is almost on the same scale as the Jedi Temple in terms of size and resplendence, and Obi-Wan wonders how such a small, remote planet can support a hall of such opulence.
"In fact, this is where my choir practices. Not to boast, but we're quite famous in the system. Do you sing, Obi-Wan?" Brinna asks kindly. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off in the attempt.
"No, he doesn't," Qui-Gon asserts wryly. "Though I hear him trying most valiantly in the fresher every morning."
"Hey! I'm not that bad. And at least I don't hum to our plants at night," he says indignantly.
Brinna laughs, enjoying the exchange. "Well, I suppose you Jedi can't be good at everything. But if you have time while you're here, I'd love for you to come for a performance, or even just a practice."
Qui-Gon pauses for a moment, as though he is thinking about how to proceed. "Well, we're uncertain as to how long we'll be here. Not that we mind visiting, of course, but you had been asking for help when you hologrammed me…"
Brinna's face becomes sober, her large eyes darting around to see who all around them might be listening. "We have to be very careful where we discuss things like this, Qui. Come, my house is just five minutes' walk away; we'll talk there."
She ushers them down the street quietly now, her expression troubled and her eyes still darting around nervously. The further they get away from the busy market, the more Obi-Wan notices people staring at him and Qui-Gon. This planet doesn't get many visitors, and two humans stand out outside of the market.
When they arrive at her little white house, she lets them in and leads them into the kitchen unit, putting a pot of water on for tea.
"What's going on, Brinna?" Qui-Gon asks calmly. "Are you in danger? Does our presence as Jedi put you in danger here?"
"Yes—well, no…it doesn't put me in danger so much as it puts both of you in danger. I'm sorry, Qui! I shouldn't have asked you to come; it's just that I didn't know who else to turn to for help!" Brinna frets, wringing her hands anxiously.
"Not to worry, Brinna. I never mind doing a favor for one of my old friends," Qui-Gon says, his voice mellow. Obi-Wan can feel a hint of calming Force suggestion in his master's tone, and he watches as Brinna takes a deep breath and seems to become much more tranquil, her hands relaxing around her teacup and her eyes becoming more focused.
"It's my uncle, Lynk—you might remember me talking about him, Qui. He's the one who took me in when my parents died. He works in the capitol building; the big one I pointed out to you earlier. Something is wrong—he left for work last week and just didn't return at night, and I haven't heard from him since. It's not like him. He had some suspicions, but..." she trails off, shaking her head despairingly.
"Suspicions about what?" Qui-Gon prompts gently.
Blinking overly bright eyes, Brinna sets her shoulders and continues. "As you may know, our main source of income on this planet besides fishing and shipbuilding is deep-sea mining. Lynk works on the committee that oversees the government budget, and he had noticed some discrepancies in the books when it came to the mining industry. Some very significant discrepancies. Which led him to believe that there is some very deep-seated corruption somewhere in that branch of industry."
Qui-Gon's face goes very still and pale, and Obi-Wan can feel the older Jedi's abrupt shock through their bond; almost as though his master has been punched in the stomach and had the wind knocked out of him.
"Brinna," Qui-Gon says casually, his voice a little tighter than his usual easy cadence. "This is just a hunch, but would the mining corporation that Mondovi partners with happen to be called Offworld Mining?"
As Brinna nods, Obi-Wan can barely keep his mouth from dropping open. Even in death, Xanatos still follows them.
Present
"Good to know that my girl called in the Jedi," Lynk says gruffly when Obi-Wan pauses in his story to cough deeply. He is oscillating between overly warm and freezing cold, and fears that he is probably getting sick. "She's brave, but she's not reckless enough to try and break in here herself. I'm glad I've taught her at least a little self-preservation over the years. Of course, I'm sorry it landed you in this mess."
Obi-Wan laughs hoarsely. "It's alright—danger is pretty much a part of the job description. I like helping people."
"Still, I take blame for you being here. You're just a boy, and you haven't done anything wrong. I thought I could trust my boss when I reported my concerns to him. Clearly not, because now I'm in here for some trumped-up charge so they can keep me shut up until they figure out how to dispose of me inconspicuously," Lynk says bitterly. "And you—tortured within an inch of your life. All for being a Jedi."
Obi-Wan opens his mouth to reassure the older man further, even though all he wants to do is sleep. He is stopped from responding by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, coming closer. They are coming for him; for another round of questioning. There is no doubt about it.
He fights back a whimper, determined not to show any signs of weakness even though every bone in his body cries out for rest and a thorough dunking in bacta.
There is a mechanical whoosh as the door to Obi-Wan's cell slides open, and every muscle in his body clenches in horrified anticipation.
"Time to wake up!" a cruel voice sing-songs. Commander Gray. He is the head inquisitor, and seems to take a particularly vindictive pleasure in interrogation. Obi-Wan tries to honor his Jedi training and not hate the man, but it is very difficult sometimes. "Are you still sleepy after our last round of fun, little Jedi? Maybe now that you're tired, you'll talk more."
Two of the guards lift him off his pallet and he can barely hold back a groan.
"What's the matter? Don't want to cry out and seem weak? Well, nobody from your precious Jedi Order is here to hear you now anyway, so you might as well. Don't worry, when they decide they care enough to come looking for you, we won't tell them about how you screamed and cried as you died."
Obi-Wan clenches his jaw, desperately working to keep his mouth shut. His temper has always been a problem, but any sort of retort will only get him beaten worse, or even killed. He draws in several deep breaths through his nose as they drag his limp form down the hallway, trying to emulate the calm that always flows from Qui-Gon's aura so effortlessly.
Thinking of his master hurts. He can only assume that the older Jedi is doing his very best to rescue him, but this will be a difficult place to infiltrate. They are underground, but also underwater. Obi-Wan can feel the pressure from the water presses all around the walls of the dungeon—the Mondoviians seem unbothered, but his ears had popped constantly the first few hours he'd been down here. Of course, he'd had larger issues to worry about at the time, so it hadn't really bothered him. He'd been worrying about escape back then; back before they'd give him a stronger dose of Force-inhibiting drugs and beaten him too badly to stand, let alone walk out of here.
Down the hall he can hear Lynk shouting. "Take me! I'm the one you should torture; damn it! He's just a boy! He's just a boy!"
Obi-Wan shudders as another door is unlocked and a familiar room is revealed.
Qui-Gon had better hurry.
Five days previous
Qui-Gon still seems a bit in shock. Obi-Wan doesn't blame the man; he feels the exact same way.
After a good night's rest and a long morning meditation, the two Jedi sit down to morning meal with Brinna.
Qui-Gon accepts a cup of tea, his visage weary and troubled.
"Brinna," he says after they begin eating in silence. Obi-Wan is poking dubiously at the fish wrapped in bread that Brinna had placed before him. He really doesn't like seafood, and especially not for morning meal. "Do you remember my padawan, Xanatos?"
Obi-Wan looks up from his plate, startled. He shouldn't be, really—Xanatos had Turned nine years ago and Qui-Gon and Brinna had met ten years ago. Of course Xanatos would have been with Qui-Gon for that first mission where he had saved Brinna from prison.
"Of course, Qui-Gon," she says, clearly curious at where this is going. "Is he a Master now?"
Qui-Gon's laugh is slightly bitter, and Obi-Wan automatically reaches across the bond to soothe the hurt before he even thinks about it. Normally Qui-Gon is the one comforting him, but this time his master flashes a bit of gratitude back to him over their mental connection, the lines on his face relaxing slightly.
"No. It's a long and painful story, Brinna, but Xanatos Turned to the Dark Side of the Force just about a year after we met."
Brinna gasps sympathetically, laying a hand on top of Qui-Gon's arm supportively. "I'm so sorry, Qui. That must have been unbearably difficult for you."
"Yes," Qui-Gon says simply. "It was, for many years." His eyes flicker over to Obi-Wan. "But things have gotten much better recently."
"Does Xanatos have something to do with my uncle's kidnapping?" Brinna asks perceptively.
"It seems very possible, Brinna. I'll be frank with you—it's probable that Xanatos was trying to lay a trap for Obi-Wan and I before his death three months ago. Offword Mining was in his hands before he died, and if Mondovi was doing business with them, then I'm sure your uncle was correct in his suspicions about the government corruption. When Xanatos started doing business on Mondovi, he probably remembered you from our mission together and decided that a good way to lure me here would be to get you to call me for help."
"Then I've played right into his plans!" Brinna groans.
"No, you haven't—he's dead, Brinna. Of that I'm quite certain. Mondovi is a remote planet— he probably set these plans into motion before his death and now his men here from Offworld haven't heard that he's no longer their leader. News travels slowly around this part of the galaxy. We need to proceed with caution when rescuing your uncle, but we need not fear Xanatos showing up in the prison to kill myself and Obi-Wan, as I'm sure was his original plan," Qui-Gon explains patiently.
"The prison building is all the way on the other side of the seaport—how do you know my uncle is being kept there?" Brinna asks, hope alighting her eyes for the first time at the mention of a concrete location.
"Because if the corruption is in the government, then they are the ones who will want to detain him," Obi-Wan explains, sensing that his master needs a break from such an emotionally-loaded topic. "I'm sure Xanatos did his research and realized your uncle would eventually grow suspicious of Offworld. He probably ordered the government officials that he paid off to throw Lynk in prison if he ever spoke up about his doubts. Then he would wait until you grew worried and contacted us for help, and he'd be here waiting when Qui-Gon and I rushed in to help your uncle."
Brinna shakes her head, amazed. "If you'd asked me a month ago, I would have said that this was one of the most peaceful planets in the galaxy. But now there's corruption coming from everywhere—the miners, the government…it's quite a tangled web that's been woven here."
"Yes," Qui-Gon says, his mouth twisted slightly. "Yes, well, that was always one of Xanatos' strengths."
Present
What Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon hadn't accounted for when they'd broken down their suspicions about Xanatos setting a trap for them was that the government officials and mining officials are all extremely paranoid.
Hence why they have spent the past three days interrogating Obi-Wan and beating him when he keeps responding that he doesn't have the information they want.
"What does the Republic want with us? Which of the senators went to the Jedi Council and set you out after us? Was it those traitors on Ilum?" Commander Gray is relentless, baring down upon Obi-Wan, who is laid out on some sort of rack that stretches further and further every time Obi-Wan refuses to answer a question. He is already panting with pain, his muscles strained beyond belief. The image of the Commander is blurred and distorted in his hazy vision, and he can barely remember his own name right now, much less the name of any Republic senators.
The first day it had been a mind probe, which he had resisted flawlessly in spite of not having access to the Force for help. He still had Qui-Gon's Force stone in his pocket, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel its smooth texture in the palm of his hand. Then when mental torture hadn't worked, he'd been beaten yesterday.
It has all taken a toll and he feels disoriented now—where is Qui-Gon? And more importantly, where is he? He strains for the last thing in his memory…they were going to Ilum for Obi-Wan to make his own lightsaber, and…Mondovi.
It all comes back to him suddenly, just in time for Commander Gray to tighten the rack three little notches as punishment for not answering the man's questions.
The government officials and mining officials are convinced that Xanatos has sold them out, and are terrified that the Republic is after them for their corruption. Obi-Wan seriously doubts the Republic would care that much about a bit of illegal mining on a remote planet like this, but these men all regard his presence and Qui-Gon's presence as a signal that their necks are on the line; that Xanatos betrayed them and disappeared three months ago, and now they will take the fall for the corruption he conned them into. They hate him, because they think that he has been sent by the Jedi Council to arrest them all.
Obi-Wan can't help it; he lets out a scream as he feels things in his body stretch in ways they never should.
"Answer me and this can end!" Gray barks.
Obi-Wan doesn't say anything—there is nothing to say anymore. They won't believe anything he says, anyway.
He hears the clicking noise each time as the rack is tightened by three more notches, and his world erupts into a starburst of pain.
He thinks he might be screaming; calling out for someone or something, but he doesn't know—everything is awash in black blotches that grow and overtake his graying vision. He can't think; he can't remember anything. Time is meaningless—maybe he has been suffering like this for a few seconds, or maybe it has been eternity.
I'm dying, he thinks. This is it. Master, I'm sorry.
He really does lose consciousness then for a while, and to his surprise, he wakes up alive in his cell again.
Across the hall, Lynk is calling to him, his voice tight with worry.
"M'here," Obi-Wan whispers hoarsely. Even his throat muscles ache, and he remembers the screaming. He doesn't even attempt moving, knowing that being stretched like he had been before means that he will be sore for days after, maybe even weeks. There are probably torn muscles and ligaments in many of his limbs; strained joints and bruised bones.
"By the sith, kid—what did they do to you down there?" Lynk asks.
It hurts to blink. "M'okay," he mumbles, drifting back into unconsciousness again. They haven't fed him or given him anything to drink for almost two days now, and he thinks that he might be recovering a tiny hint of the Force now that the drugs are exiting his system. It is a bad sign—if they aren't bothering to continue to dampen his Force abilities, that might mean that they are planning on killing him soon. Maybe he should make some information up and prolong the questioning.
A familiar presence is moving swiftly towards them—Obi-Wan can barely sense a tiny flutter of feeling from this person on the fringes of his mind—but he is too tired to think any further. He imagines himself as Ben, camping out in a tent with his father at the Solstice festival, his only concern the amount of fish he will catch the next day. He pictures every detail of the scene until it feels so real that he can almost smell the forest and feel the sunlight on his skin as he surrenders to the painless embrace of sleep.
Four days previous
They have the plans for the prison and are trying to plot their entrance point. It is a difficult to place to get into, as most prisons tend to be. Mondoviians are used to swimming most places beyond the canals; their sleek, aquiline bodies designed to cut through water with speed and ease. But the prison had been specifically designed so that prisoners could not escape and swim away.
It rests on the top of a mountain across the seaport, and they are currently poring over several maps in Brinna's kitchen, debating the options. Brinna is worried—Obi-Wan does not need to be Force-sensitive to read her wrung-out emotions. Her uncle has been missing for almost two weeks now, and now that she knows where he is probably being held, she is anxious to just go and get him already.
Qui-Gon sighs, rubbing between his eyes; a sure sign of the headache that Obi-Wan can feel building over the bond. He pushes a bit of healing energy towards the older Jedi, who flashes a grateful smile at him.
"Padawan, I don't know about you, but I could use a break," Qui-Gon says, tossing Obi-Wan his pouch of credits, which Obi-Wan nimbly plucks out of the air. "Why don't you go find a street vendor and buy us some food for evening meal?"
Brinna needs to relax, or she is going to be a wreck when we attempt our rescue tomorrow, Qui-Gon says over the bond. You find food, I'll see if I can distract her for the time being.
With a nod, Obi-Wan ducks out into the street, grateful for the cool evening air and a chance to stretch his legs. Brinna lives in a quieter section of the city, so he has a ways to walk to get back to the market, but he doesn't mind.
He has gotten about a block before he realizes that he is being followed. And not very subtly, either.
Glancing over his shoulder as he rounds the corner, he feels a hint of warning begin to stir in the Force. He recognizes the Mondoviian man following him—that man had been shopping a few stalls down from him and Qui-Gon at the market yesterday. It was a detail that any ordinary person would miss, but a Jedi would not.
It seems that his and Qui-Gon's presence on Mondovi has not gone unnoticed—now the question is, who is having him followed? Is this just a man looking to rob an offworlder, or is he working for Xanatos' former company? For the government?
He places a hand on his training saber just to make himself feel a little better as he continues strolling casually towards the market. The man is almost a block behind, perhaps he won't notice if Obi-Wan ducks into an alleyway—
He realizes an instant too late that he has made the wrong decision; the Force screaming a warning at him. The man following him had obviously been a trap—Obi-Wan should have known it from the start—he was being too obvious in his shadowing. It had all been a ploy to get Obi-Wan to try and slip the follower by cutting through this alleyway all along, and he had fallen for it.
He feels a sharp sting as a syringe is stabbed into his neck, his legs instantly giving out from underneath him as the Force is abruptly cut away from him, stealing away his defensive skills and his strength.
He doesn't even have time to shout a mental warning to Qui-Gon before the Force is completely ungraspable, darkness closing in over him and the pouch of credits slipping through his fingers.
Present
The sound of a lightsaber brings Obi-Wan back to wakefulness.
For a second, he is drowning in the nightmares that plague him so regularly nowadays—is Xanatos here, looking to strike Obi-Wan down?
But no—Xanatos is dead. Obi-Wan saw him fall on Telos; saw the look on Qui-Gon's face the moment his former apprentice chose death. It is not something that he would ever forget; it is just the heat of fever and the confusion of dehydration making him feel disoriented and confused. Everything is fuzzy and unfocused in his vision, as though the room is swimming. He feels oddly at peace though—a familiar warmth has been restored to his mind. He doesn't remember where it comes from or why it has been missing, but it is as though some incredibly vital piece of himself has been returned to him.
In spite of his blurred vision, he can tell that the room is flooded with very familiar green light, and he can hear the sound of a lightsaber cutting through the door. It takes his brain a long moment to scramble to catch up—why is Qui-Gon cutting through his bedroom door with his lightsaber? The maintenance droids aren't going to be pleased about that.
But wait—he isn't at the Temple. His innocent attempt to take a deep breath confirms that as every muscle and bone in his body screams in protest. He is still in the dungeon on Mondovi, awaiting rescue.
He knows that his brain is working slowly right now; that he should be putting the pieces of the situation together much faster than he is. But the door is cut clean through, his master stepping over the threshold, before he realizes that help has actually arrived.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon breathes from the doorway, an inscrutable expression on his face.
Obi-Wan blinks hazily, and Qui-Gon is suddenly at his side, kneeling down next to Obi-Wan's flimsy pallet on the hard ground. He suddenly recognizes the warmth in his mind, and realizes that the Force has returned fully to him, and with it, the bond.
"Master?" He whispers disbelievingly through cracked lips. "You came? You're here to rescue me?"
An expression of such grief steals its way across Qui-Gon's face that it makes Obi-Wan's chest ache. Or perhaps it's the broken ribs. But either way, he has never seen Qui-Gon looks quite so sad and weary, not even in the immediate aftermath of Xanatos' death.
A warm palm comes up to smooth the blood-matted, sweat-crusted hair out of Obi-Wan's eyes. "Of course I came for you, little one. I would have been here much sooner, were it not for the fact that I couldn't feel your end of the bond and determine where you were being held."
"Oh," Obi-Wan says inanely, blinking heavy eyelids. "Sorry."
Qui-Gon shakes his head, his face growing very still as he examines the extent of the bruising and welts on Obi-Wan's battered, tortured body. "That was not your fault," he says firmly. "None of this was your fault, Padawan."
"Okay," Obi-Wan says sleepily. "What—what're you doing?" He mumbles. Qui-Gon gently places one arm under Obi-Wan's knees and the other around his shoulders, easily lifting him off the pallet.
"Getting you to safety before the next round of guards change posts and find their unconscious comrades," Qui-Gon says grimly. "Brinna is helping her uncle."
Obi-Wan just nods, allowing his eyes to drift closed. The bond is completely open between them right now, and he can feel Qui-Gon pushing healing energy his way. It makes it hard to stay awake.
He dozes off for a while, and hears snippets of a conversation flowing around him.
"…thank you, Master Jinn, sir…just glad you're here to get the boy…not sure how much longer he could have taken it…" Lynk's familiar voice rumbles. At one point, Obi-Wan briefly opens his eyes to see Brinna supporting her uncle as they walk. The older man doesn't seem to be in too bad of shape, but his cheekbones stand out sharply, and his features are drawn and weary.
Qui-Gon says something then, his chest rumbling against Obi-Wan's cheek. Lynk speaks again.
"…torture was very bad; particularly yesterday…the boy kept screaming for his father at one point…"
Obi-Wan feels the arms holding him tighten spasmodically for an instant, and then he is drawn closer and shifted protectively in Qui-Gon's grip. He manages to blink several times in a row, eventually coaxing his eyes to stay open. He and Qui-Gon are alone now, and they are moving through white hallways. Wherever they are, it's not the dungeons anymore.
"Padawan," Qui-Gon says, immediately noticing Obi-Wan's wakefulness. "We are heading out from the basement of the capitol building and straight to a healer that Brinna trusts. Lynk is weak but not injured. Mondoviians find water restoring and rejuvenating, so he and Brinna chose to swim out of the building so that Lynk can regain his strength."
"The capitol building…" Obi-Wan murmurs as he realizes where they are; suddenly understanding why Brinna and Lynk were able to swim away from the building. "They didn't keep us in the prison…s'why you couldn't find us." All along, they had assumed that Lynk was being kept in the mountain prison, but they'd been in the capitol building instead the whole time, right in the middle of town on a water platform. Clearly the corruption had run deeper than they had thought, for the government to be so brazenly torturing people in the basement of their own office building.
"We should have been faster," Qui-Gon says. "There's no excuse for it, Padawan."
"S'okay, Master," Obi-Wan says automatically. He is sure that there is a story for what had detained Qui-Gon and Brinna for three days in their attempts to find him and Lynk, but he is still processing the fact that he is actually free from the dungeons. He had been so sure he was going to die several times, and now to be near the sunlight again is overwhelming.
"I want to go home," Obi-Wan says through a tight throat, one hand clinging to Qui-Gon's sleeve with all his dwindling might. He barely recognizes his own voice, it is so weak and croaky from screaming. In that moment, he doesn't even know what he means by 'home.'
Several places flash into his mind: their standard-issue, white-walled quarters in the Jedi temple; shelves littered with knick-knacks and their favorite teas and one vindictive draconis plant…the hot, cramped tent at the Solstice Festival; where Qui-Gon had held him as he cried after his vision…the meadow he had imagined as Qui-Gon had described his life if he'd never become a Jedi…this is what home means to him now.
In response to this plaintive appeal, Qui-Gon merely brings one hand up and carefully pulls Obi-Wan's head further into the crook of his neck, as though to shield him from the outside world.
His silent tears wet the collar of his master's tunic, and he is floored by the realization that Qui-Gon means home to me.
They spiral up several staircases, growing closer and closer to the light of day. The sunlight streaming through the windows is so bright that the light fills Obi-Wan's eyelids, even though he keeps his eyes shut, lulled by the rocking motion of Qui-Gon's even steps.
"Rest now, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmurs.
As they make their way through the marble halls, Obi-Wan swears that he hears a chorus of angels somewhere in the distance, and it takes him a long moment to remember Brinna's choir; practicing in the music center of the town hall.
The music swells and fills Obi-Wan's chest, and although he has no idea what the unfamiliar lyrics mean, he perfectly understands the sentiment of the song. It is a gentle lullaby; a quiet tune with deep sadness and a sense of mourning, but a greater sense of movement and hope stirring in the undertones.
It seems a fitting tribute to Obi-Wan's time in this building—he has lost something important in those hours of torture, but he is still alive, and he will keep on living.
The sunlight feels glorious against his newly-healed skin.
It has been five days; five days since he was rescued from hell. He doesn't remember most of the time since then—he had been delirious with fever the first two days, apparently, and submerged in bacta for the next three.
His bones and muscles are still stiff and sore as he makes his way outside of the healers' ward. The good thing about being hospitalized on an oceanic planet is that the view is beautiful—it helps that he is in a secluded, private little infirmary; more like a house than a medical ward, really. Master Che could stand to take a leaf out of the Mondoviians' book.
The healer is a friend of Brinna's and he is very kind and funny. Best of all, he agreed to let Obi-Wan venture outside alone this afternoon if he ate morning and noon meal.
And now he stands on the beach out back, his boots making satisfying prints in the sand as he slowly hobbles his way alongside the shoreline. It is slow going, but he is just grateful to be outside and free.
He hears the notes of an ethereal song trilling over the breeze as he rounds a bend, and he stops and leans up against a rock to listen to Brinna sing. Her blue-green hair blows in the salty wind, and her voice is high and pure, telling a story in a language that Obi-Wan doesn't understand. When she finishes, he claps.
She looks up and smiles brightly. "Well, look who's up and running around already! You fancy a sparring match, Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan laughs. "Sure. I think I'd last about a second right now if I were really lucky."
"We should do it then. This is the only chance I'll ever have to beat you, little Jedi." It sounds much nicer when Brinna says it than when Commander Gray had sneered the words little Jedi at him. Still, a shiver runs down his spine at the memory. He suspects that it will take a long time for him to recover mentally and emotionally; much longer than his physical recovery. His nightmares will be worse, and he will flinch every time someone raises a hand to him in combat, or probes at the shields around his mind.
But he tries not to think of any of this as he sits down next to Brinna on a rock, looking out onto the peaceful bay.
"I want to thank you, you know," Brinna says after a long moment. "Not just for your role in saving my uncle and all you had to go through to do it, but also for saving my friend."
"What do you mean?"
"Qui-Gon, of course," Brinna says, and Obi-Wan looks over at her with confusion.
"Let me tell you a story, Obi-Wan," Brinna continues, her gaze far away. "Qui-Gon and I stayed quite close in the first year after we met. Even though he was often traveling on missions with his padawan, Xanatos, he would still hologram me and we'd talk every few weeks. And then suddenly about a year after we had our first adventure together, he stopped answering my holos. This went on for almost two years, until he suddenly called me again.
"I realize now that it was because Xanatos had Turned, and Qui-Gon was lost in his grief and guilt and self-blame," Brinna explains, and Obi-Wan struggles to imagine what Qui-Gon must have felt during that time. Obi-Wan would have been just a little crecheling, taking naps and causing mischief with Garen.
"We rarely talked for the next seven years. He was different—he smiled much less; was rarely at the Temple when I comm'd him there. And then about a year ago, things started to change again, and he was suddenly becoming more and more like the old Qui-Gon. Maybe happier than the young Qui-Gon, even. In a different way, of course. Something died in him when Xanatos betrayed him, but then I saw a rebirth and a rejuvenation in your master unlike anything I've ever seen in a person before. He's finally happy and at peace again, Obi-Wan."
"What was it?" Obi-Wan asks curiously. "What did it?"
Brinna laughs brightly, throwing her head back. "It was you, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan feels his mouth drop open. "Wha—no, I don't—I didn't—"
Brinna smiles gently. "I know it's hard for you to see, especially since they train you out of all those feelings and things at that Temple of yours, but Qui-Gon truly cares for you, Obi-Wan. He was absolutely frantic when he realized you'd been kidnapped, and you know that Qui-Gon is never frantic. The only time I've ever actually seen him look frightened is when we broke into the prison and you and Lynk weren't there. Then we had to go through all the possibilities of where else you two could be—in a different city on Mondovi; on a completely different planet even…or worse. We just didn't know."
"How did you eventually find out that we were being kept in the capitol building?" Obi-Wan asks.
"The Force returned to you," Brinna says simply.
"Qui-Gon felt that? Just that little flickering? I was barely even conscious at the time," Obi-Wan says incredulously.
Brinna nods. "We took a water-racer out to talk to some of the miners, trying to get a feel for whether or not the two of you might have been hidden away in a mine somewhere, when all of a sudden Qui-Gon almost crashed the thing. He did such an abrupt about-face that I almost fell off the back, and before I knew it, we were hurtling towards the capitol building.
"'He's in pain,' Qui-Gon said as he drove us all along. 'We must hurry.' That was it. And then all of a sudden we were in the basement of the capitol building, fighting off the guards and finding the two of you. You know the rest."
They sit in silence for a long time after that, each staring out over the waves. That is how Qui-Gon finds the two of them nearly an hour later.
"Are you teaching Brinna to meditate, Padawan?" He asks, taking a seat on the rock next to Obi-Wan.
"No," Obi-Wan says wryly. "I just walked all the way out here and realized I was going to need a nice long rest before attempting the walk back to the house. Brinna has been kind enough to join me."
"The pleasure has been all mine," Brinna says, looking between the two Jedi and apparently deciding that they need some time to talk. "But I should really go see how my uncle is doing. He says he's fine, but I won't be satisfied until he puts a few more pounds on. Same goes for you, Obi-Wan." The look she gives him as she departs promises that there are many baked goods heading Obi-Wan's way in the near future if Brinna has anything to do with it.
"How are you feeling?" Qui-Gon asks when Brinna is gone. The way he asks is different from the way that Vokara Che or the Mondoviian healer would coolly assess his physical well-being. It is different from the way that the Council will inevitably ask him when he goes to report on the mission back on Coruscant. Qui-Gon doesn't ask as though he wants to know about Padawan Kenobi, the disciplined Jedi-in-training. He asks like he wants to hear from Obi-Wan, the fourteen-year-old boy who had almost just died.
"Sore and weak," Obi-Wan says honestly. "I don't know. I don't think that everything that's happened has really sunk in yet. But I'll be fine."
"It's alright if you aren't, though, Padawan," Qui-Gon says seriously. "You've been through a terrible ordeal, and it will probably take months for you to process everything that happened and recover from it. Nobody expects you to be running around doing katas or meditating in a headstand pose anytime soon. Remember that. The Council and I are only concerned that you feel safe and that you have time to heal."
Obi-Wan nods pensively, chewing on his lower lip as he looks out upon the sea. "I'm sorry about Xanatos, Master. I should have said it much sooner. But I'm sorry that his memory keeps following you around everywhere."
Qui-Gon's smile is sad. "Hopefully this will be the last encounter we will ever have with Xanatos' schemes and manipulations. But yes, his loss still pains me, even though I find it hard to talk about. I think a part of me will always wonder if I could have done more to help him; or if things would have turned out differently had I not been his master from the beginning."
Obi-Wan has nothing to say that will instantly quell his master's self-doubt—he knows what it's like to do battle with what-ifs. Still, he thinks it's important that Qui-Gon has actually admitted out loud that he is still struggling with Xanatos' betrayal and death. "It's okay not to be okay, though, Master," he points out dryly, turning the older Jedi's own words back on him. "Nobody expects you to run around doing katas or meditating in a headstand—you lost a padawan. It's alright if you need time to heal."
Qui-Gon laughs. "Well-played. When did you grow so wise?"
"I must have learned it from my master," Obi-Wan shrugs innocently.
Qui-Gon chuckles before sobering. "The Council says that they will dispatch a team to clean up the remainder of this mess—they'll have to sort the corrupt government officials out from the clean ones, and try to get the mining operations running according to Republic regulations."
"We're not staying to do it?" Obi-Wan asks, slightly disappointed. He knows that he is in for a long appointment with Vokara Che when they return to the Temple.
"No, the Council and I both feel that you have been through enough here. We're to return to Coruscant as soon as you're cleared to fly."
"Oh," Obi-Wan says softly, trying not to let his disillusionment show.
"We will come back to this system the next opportunity available," Qui-Gon promises. "Ilum will wait."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan says obediently, resting his chin on his knees and shivering in the cool breeze.
His chill does not go unnoticed by Qui-Gon. "Let's get back to the house before you make yourself worse," he says, helping Obi-Wan to his feet.
Obi-Wan is proud that he makes it all the way back to the house walking by himself, but falls onto the soft mattress as though he hasn't slept in three weeks straight.
When he awakes several hours later, Qui-Gon is deep in meditation on the sleep couch opposite his. Stretching out his stiff muscles, Obi-Wan pushes himself to his feet and stumbles to the fresher. When he steps back into the room, he feels a sudden tug in the Force, pulling him towards the door.
It is the middle of the night at this point, but he obligingly follows the pull, not sensing any sort of danger. His bare feet are cold against the sand, and he moves slowly, but he allows the Force to surround him with its warmth and push him with its will towards the rocks where he'd sat with Qui-Gon earlier.
Still following the feeling, he notices for the first time that between two of the rocks is the mouth of a small cave. He feels his breathing increase slightly—one of the side effects of his recent imprisonment is that he isn't too fond of small, dark spaces right now—but he reminds himself to trust in the Force. It will not lead him astray.
As soon as he steps inside the damp rock, he notices a blue light glowing some fifteen feet back. The Force's urging is stronger now, and he follows it, a genuine smile breaking out over his face when he reaches the source of the gentle blue light and plucks a Mondoviian Force crystal out of the rock, feeling a sense of rightness in his stomach.
The older members of the Order never talk about what they had had to face in the Crystal Caves of Ilum in order to get their own lightsaber crystals, but he knows that the Caves are commonly considered to be a test of sorts; a trial that every young Padawan must face to prove himself worthy of a lightsaber.
Mondovi is in the same system as Ilum, which means that its caves grow similar crystals. And he supposes that imprisonment and torture is certainly a sort of trial.
When Qui-Gon comes running out to find him a few hours later, out of breath and bare-footed in his panic that he'd awoken to find Obi-Wan missing, Obi-Wan is sitting under a blanket of stars on the Mondoviian beach, already working out the basic design of a blue-crystalled lightsaber; one that bears a striking resemblance to the green blade tucked on Qui-Gon's belt.
So...yeah. Hopefully that made sense. It was a lot to cram into one storyline and probably should have been divided up into a couple chapters, but c'est la vie, I guess.
If anyone is wondering what kind of music I was picturing the Mondoviians singing (I know, who isn't wondering about that, right? Right?), I decided it would probably be something kind of Sigur Ros-ish. Probably the song Dauðalogn. Hahah just in case anyone is interested.