UPDATE! :D
They used to say a Jedi could not be broken. It had been common knowledge a couple decades ago that only a fool would try and break the will of a Jedi.
Few knew the secret.
He was one of them. Having fought alongside them for the better part of the wars, he noticed things that others wouldn't see with a passing glance. It had been hard, at first, to see past the sabaac face that most of them wore, but after a few months they became transparent.
It was true, he discovered, that the majority of them really were similar to a duracrete wall. Nothing fazed them. In Jedi circles they might have called it "inner peace". In civilian circles, it was known as "emotional detachment". They felt nothing. If organic flesh had been fashioned around the body of a droid, he imagined it would look very similar. In a small way, he had grown to envy these men and women.
For the most part, he pitied them.
He never spent much time with the ones that actually seemed like they felt something, but he clearly remembered two of them. They had saved his life, rescued him from a place that, ironically, was meant to contain them and not him. It had been deemed the most fortified prison in the system at the time, possibly in the whole galaxy. Impenetrable. Or so everyone said.
What that prison might have contained in physical strength, it lacked in willpower. What he had seen had not been two Jedi breaking out of a prison. He had seen two men backed into a corner with nothing to lose. Men under their command had been shot, one of their fellow Jedi had been killed, and men that were known around the galaxy by heroic monikers were finally seen as merely human underneath.
Yes, he had seen Jedi break. He had watched their stoic facade crumble, uncovering the desperation hidden beneath. And he had seen what men, powerful men, would do when they were backed into that corner.
Vader was away at the moment, back in some dark, unknown area of the Death Star. Probably brooding over the loss of his daughter. Weak. Vader was still weak.
Sidious had failed. Manipulation was an art, and though the Sith Lord had been one of the greatest wielders of it, he had fallen short of the goal. Vader still cared about people, and that was dangerous, even if he only cared a little. It meant that Anakin was still waiting around somewhere inside of him, ready to break out at any moment.
He supposed he had Kenobi to thank for that. For over an hour he had watched the man pace around in his cell, running a metal hand through dirty, greasy hair that had very little of its youthful color left in it. A far cry from the man that had helped rescue him from that molten prison all those years ago. In an odd sort of sense, he could thank this man for his current position of power as well. Had Kenobi not rescued him, he wouldn't be enjoying his current status. Even though he had been merely a captain in the Clone Wars, he had accelerated to the top of the chain once the Republic had fallen. Switching sides had been all too easy.
He smiled, a genuine smile.
This... this was the epitome of a broken Jedi. This was a Jedi that had been broken many years over and was back in a corner again. It made him nervous. He had seen what this man was capable of. And though Kenobi was getting up there in age, he didn't doubt the man's power if push came to shove.
This time was different, though. This time, there was no Hero With No Fear standing next to him. Anakin Skywalker was all but dead, and this man stood alone now. There would be no dramatic heroics where Kenobi was concerned. The time for those had come and gone ages ago, and all that stood before him now, still pacing across the viewing screen, was a hopelessly lost shadow of a people long forgotten. The man had to be one of only a handful left. Not surprising since Kenobi had a somewhat amusing tendency to survive what most would not, but his time would come eventually. Vader might hold the power, but power in the hands of an instable wielder makes for little success, as he very well knew.
He smiled and turned his attention away from the screen. He supposed that while he waited for an opportunity to strike, he might as well get a feel for the prisoner's current emotional state. The door opened at his command and the short walk down the hall lasted only a few seconds. A second door opened, revealing a dimly-lit corridor with cells on both sides.
Only one was occupied and he stopped in front of it. Waited for Kenobi to see him.
The Jedi stopped pacing and stood still for a few minutes. Then he turned to stare right at him. Surprise flickered briefly in his blue-grey eyes, but then they returned to their neutral state, giving little imagination as to what he was currently thinking about.
He had surprised the man, a feat not easily accomplished. He considered that a small victory, at least, and smiled a little in response. "I see you remember me."
Kenobi just stood there, staring back with the same blank expression. He did cross his arms, though, indicating a small bit of impatience. The sound of the two prosthetics scraping together was enough to make both of them wince a little. Metal on metal had never been a welcome noise, especially in an age where the sound was almost a constant, born from flying debris and crashing ships.
"I've been watching you for a while, now," he continued. "Thought you could use some company considering Lord Vader decided to attend to other business. Tell me, are your accommodations satisfactory, or could they use some improvement?"
He watched the man, studied him like he'd studied every living Jedi's personal file over the years. Sidious had insisted on keeping the detailed records they'd managed to acquire from the Temple, and they had proven useful time and again. Kenobi had always intrigued him, mainly because of his connection with Vader, but for other reasons as well. This was a man not easily figured, and he was bound and determined to break him open.
Kenobi's jaw clenched, a tell-tale sign of restraint, but then he sighed. A frustrated sigh, he decided. "What is it that you came for, captain? I am not inclined to believe that it was for mere conversation."
Captain? Really. Surely the man had not fallen that out of the loop in only a couple decades. He crossed his arms, mirroring his prisoner. "I've climbed a bit in the ranks since we last met. For a man who used to be a war hero and general in the Republic Army, I'm surprised your information isn't up to date."
"I wasn't aware that anyone less than Sidious or Vader required serious attention." The expected retort was sharper than usual, accent more pronounced, but delivered deadpan nevertheless. This man was giving him very little to work with and managing to insult him in the process.
Marvelous. Just wonderful.
But predictable. Kenobi was still Kenobi, sarcastic and shallow to the core. It had been too hopeful for him to believe that he'd breach the inner workings of this man's mind at the start.
He took the insult in stride, turning the immediate rush of anger into a much more restrained smirk. "All the better for me, I suppose. The less you know the better. " He paused, considering the Jedi for a few moments. The way the man held himself: back straight, shoulders square, but obviously wary and tired, and favoring his left leg. An old injury or a new one?
The way his eyes flickered in the dim lighting: blue one second, grey the next, never-ending clouds of haze, flashing with something unrecognizable and deeply troubled by something all too obvious.
Ana... Vader. That's the only thing it could be. He wondered for a brief moment if Kenobi was really disappointed to be here, or if he had planned it this way all along. Interesting indeed...
Something to be considered later, anyway.
He supposed it wouldn't hurt to press a few buttons. "Was this a rescue mission of some sort, or a suicide attempt? The latter seems a bit low for someone of your reputation, but one can never tell; time does change a man, especially one of your various escapades... honestly, though, I've been wondering, for some time now, how long it would be before you decided to crash the party. It only seems natural that the man responsible for the collapse of the most powerful Order in history would try and fix things eventually..." He trailed off, suddenly on edge.
He'd miscalculated. Badly. Pressed a button that had, apparently, already been pressed over and over again in a vain effort to destroy it. Kenobi was fuming, seething. Spitting mad. A casual observer wouldn't see it, but everything about the man's demeanor had changed. And he knew he'd unleashed something.
The wariness was gone, the left leg was no longer being favored, the eyes were no longer flashing, but had dropped to ice. He'd also somehow overlooked the fact that Kenobi had not been shot with Force-suppressors. A foolish mistake. One that wouldn't get him killed - he was confident of that- but one that might put him in a bed for the rest of his life.
"Captain Wilhuff Tarkin," Kenobi began, spitting his name out as if it were not worthy of even being spoken. "That is the rank I remember you by and that is what I will refer to you as."
So... Kenobi did remember him. What an honor...
The Jedi uncrossed his arms, cold, durasteel fingers hanging loosely. "I'm not sure what you came to me for, but why don't we start with the cold, hard truth. You are a rare breed. One of the few men I never even considered remotely good. A leech. Present, but unnoticed. Sucking the life out of whatever you're attached to at the moment and then moving on to the next victim. Taking survival to a whole new level. You persisted, because that is what leeches are good at, and if no one takes notice of them, they prosper." Kenobi paused, stepping forward until he was just inside the bars of his cell. "I should have left you to rot in that prison. One mistake in a string of many mistakes that I won't make again."
Tarkin nodded, impressed. "Very astute observations. Unfortunately, you are in no position to be making empty threats, Kenobi. Call me what you wish, but the fact remains. I am sitting in a high position in the most powerful government in the universe and you are an afterthought left to waste away in a cell with your not-so-enviable past. I hardly think that what you have to say bears any considerable weight at all."
A hint of a smile, then. A twitch, nothing more. But Tarkin noticed... he always noticed the small things.
"I would advise you not to tread so lightly, captain. Having a false sense of security can have fatal consequences."
Not an empty threat. It sent a shiver up his spine - one Kenobi probably noticed - but he managed to maintained an air of control despite that. Tarkin stared the Jedi down, not caring in the least that the man on the other side of the bars was capable of snapping his neck without moving a finger. He had one advantage that Kenobi would never have.
Tarkin simply didn't care. At all. About anyone except himself. On the flip side, this man cared a great deal, at least about one other man.
He smiled again. "Tell me, Master Kenobi, which hurt more: watching the boy you raised turn your esteemed home into a slaughterhouse, or watching that same boy kill his own daughter with the press of a button?"
Oh, he'd struck a nerve. That much was obvious in the way both durasteel fists clenched tight enough to cause a grating, squeaking sound in protest. If the man wasn't careful, he'd snap his own fingers off.
An amusing image, he had to admit.
Kenobi was silent a moment longer, his eyes staring back with such intensity that Tarkin knew that if looks really could kill, many a man would have been incinerated by this very man ages ago. Or maybe he'd never looked at another man in this way before. The Jedi actually looked as if he'd like to carry out that not-so-empty threat immediately.
Instead, the man curled his hands around the bars, clenched them tightly, and narrowed his eyes. "I would dare to say that even if I told you, you wouldn't even begin to understand. You simply aren't capable of feeling such things, and therefore cannot sympathize with people who are able to." The two fists opened again, releasing the bars. They were barely noticeable, but Tarkin swore he saw the smallest of impressions where the fingers had been.
Kenobi crossed his arms again and took a step back, clearly struggling with some inner conflict. Tarkin waited, sensing that the man wasn't finished speaking yet.
He was right. He generally was most of the time.
"Allow me to let you in on a little secret, or maybe it's not so much of a secret seems how you're obviously knowledgeable when it comes to my past," Kenobi continued. "So here it is: I like words. Not so surprising, really. I often overheard people saying that I'd have made a good senator had I chosen that path, which is a detestable suggestion if you ask me. I suppose it bears a small bit of truth, though. I like words, because you can do a lot with them. I can use the same words to say a dozen different things, depending on how I say them. I can twist them to mean something entirely contrary to what they really should mean. I can use words how they're supposed to be used, bluntly, without a hidden meaning."
He started to pace again, and Tarkin got the impression that this meant the man was relaxed, no longer tense. While he breathed a little easier at the prolonging of physical harm, he frowned inwardly, disappointed that somehow Kenobi had brought this conversation around to a more comfortable topic. It was proving to be an interesting turn, though. He was drawn into the expressions that flashed across the man's face as he spoke, obviously deep in thought. In these expressions, he was introduced to yet another layer of the man. Hardly a brush of the surface, but still making headway.
Kenobi went on... "The same word can have a thousand different meanings. Tense, context, dialect, language - there are dozens of variables, all useful if I know how to use them. I can tell the truth, I can lie, I can tell the truth even though it will be taken as a lie. Or perhaps a half-truth might be better. I've always been good at those... too good, some might say..." He stopped and glanced over. "You following me, captain?"
Tarkin narrowed his eyes and nodded, but he didn't provide any comment. This was starting to make him wary. The man speaking now was not the same man that had been fuming only moments before. The abrupt switch of mood was puzzling.
"The point is," he finally stated. "Words can become a powerful ally if a man knows how to use them correctly, but there's another part of this as well." He continued to pace, but he turned his head to look at Tarkin again. "If a man is going to use words to accomplish his goals, he must also understand that these words will be used in a social environment. He will be interacting with people. Forgive me for being so technical in my explanations, here, but a being of your limited emotional capabilities would hardly be able to follow anything more than that."
He looked away again, and Tarkin bristled when he did. He might not care about others too terribly much, but he certainly was no machine, and it would do Kenobi some good to recognize that fact. Or maybe not. Misconceptions could also be used to manipulate...
"While you may not be able to feel these emotions, I get the impression that you have become quite adept at interpreting them, hence your current position in the Empire. With only a few minutes of interaction, I would wager you could give an entire psychological profile of an individual, how they would react to certain situations or allegations, who they might respond well to, how quick their temper might fire up, what sort of job they would be good at, whether they might be a good leader or not, that sort of thing... yes, captain, you can read people and read them well. Would you agree?"
Tarkin decided to just run with it. He obviously was not going to turn this conversation anywhere else at the moment, so he might as well just join in. Besides, it was a rather intriguing topic. He smiled, proud at the subtle compliment. Actually, it probably wasn't intended as a compliment, but he decided to take it as such. "I would," he answered.
Kenobi stopped pacing. "Good. Then as a man who excels in these skills, you must also agree that they can be used to meet two ends. You might phrase them differently than I do, but they are generally the same. Manipulation is one. This one is easy enough and can be used to accomplish a variety of different goals. In fact, many use manipulation without even being aware they are using it. It comes naturally. One might also call it persuasion. A means to a rather self-centered end, but those ends are often for a good enough cause. While manipulation is used by everyone, it is used at varying levels. A true master of it will turn it into an art form and can virtually bend anyone to his will in the process of using it." The Jedi tipped his head to the side, studying him. Tarkin smiled. Kenobi smiled. "You are a true master at it, aren't you. Not surprising. I noticed it the first time I met you. You had that distinct aura about you. One of subtle authority and confidence."
Very perceptive, this man. Tarkin already knew that, though, because he'd noticed the exact same thing when they'd met. He and Kenobi were of the same mold, it seemed. Their goals were just on opposite ends of the spectrum. "I would say you're no different," he said, cocking a brow.
Kenobi actually chuckled... not a normal chuckle, though. It had a shadowy undercurrent to it. "If by that you mean that I know how to manipulate someone and I know how to do it well, then you are correct, but that is where the comparison between you and I ends, captain. The second end is this: a man can use his gift of words for the good of others. This is done by appealing to logic, conscience, relationship, and emotion." Kenobi's smile disappeared and his demeanor changed again. A man not easily figured. The file, along with his previous observations, certainly wasn't wrong there. Tarkin was having a hard time following him.
"Through this end, a man can accomplish greater things. This is where you will fail and fail miserably, because judging from what little I've seen of you - oh yes, I read people well too - you don't know how to do this. To connect on the emotional level is a foreign concept for you. You don't want relationships, because you're a leech. Your self-centeredness has so thoroughly infected you that you can't possibly think of anyone else but yourself. You take and take and take some more without ever giving anything back."
Tarkin calmly crossed his arms, considering the man in front of him. These were all such wonderful observations and such, but he honestly didn't see the point in all of this. "Isn't that the point? If a man doesn't look out for himself, he will never accomplish anything or get anywhere in this universe. This is a cruel reality, and a man cannot spend his life worrying about the sake of others if he loses his own identity in the process."
"A valid point," the man conceded. "But let me ask you something... why are you afraid of me?"
The question caught him off guard. He was quick to answer. "You don't frighten me," he bit out. Not yet, anyway. The man wouldn't kill him yet.
"I'll rephrase the question, then," Kenobi offered. "Why is Anakin's presence keeping you from having me executed?"
Okay, so the man was very perceptive. He had a feeling that Kenobi was indicating more than just a matter of rank. Tarkin glared back. "Vader seems to want you alive, though I haven't the slightest clue why, and if I were to kill you, then that wouldn't be looking out for myself would it?"
Kenobi gave him a curt nod. "Correct. It wouldn't, and yet it pains you that I'm still alive. I gather that you're rather frustrated at that little fact, that I'm standing here in front of you at point blank range and you can't so much as lay a finger on me without being reprimanded."
Tarkin snorted. "Perhaps, and yet I'm the one with unlimited reach as far as Vader is concerned."
It was a wild guess, a small jab into places unknown, but his intuition had never been wrong before. He smirked at the hesitation, the slight tightening of Kenobi's jaw, the way his arms shifted a little. He'd guessed correctly, then. That changed things. He dared to take a step closer and glanced at the durasteel bars standing between them, fingering one as he spoke once more. "You think you have such a large advantage over me, don't you?" he asked, not really needing an answer. "That's interesting, because the way I see it, you're the one currently in a desperate situation. I would venture to say that you're rather comfortable behind bars, safely out of harm's way, at least in the sense of being killed." He paused, glancing back up into the man's eyes. A wary gaze met him there, burrowing deep, but hardly making a dent. Tarkin merely smirked. "I wouldn't get too comfortable... a false sense of security can prove fatal if you're not careful."
Kenobi's jaw was getting what looked to be a brutal workout. A good sign, he decided. Not many men enjoyed getting their words thrown back at them.
He stepped back again and began to pace in a slow and measured gate. "I enjoyed the lecture, I really did. It was refreshing to hear such a philosophical approach to a subject that I'm passionate about. Word play and manipulation are two old hobbies of mine, ones that don't get a lot of credit these days since most positions of power are held through brute force rather than clever minds. You're a relic of good times lost, my friend. I'd advise you to hear me out, though. While I may not be as emotionally connected as most people these days, that does not mean that I don't understand emotions. In fact, they make for an interesting study, especially when you've had so many years to observe them." He paused and winked. "And I've had a lot of years to sit back and watch. You Jedi were particularly intriguing. Most saw you as droids with organic costumes, incapable of feeling anything, similar to the way you described me a few minutes ago. I saw past that facade right away, especially where you and Anakin were concerned."
"And what did you see?" Kenobi inquired, offering the question simply as a means of contributing to a one-sided conversation. The question really wasn't necessary, Tarkin thought, since he was going to answer it anyway.
"I saw two men so tightly bound that anything would be hard-pressed to get between them. I imagine it was hard being a Jedi, encouraged to 'release everything into the Force' and such. You two seemed closer than most, and I figured it was your way of coping with it all." He brushed an invisible speck of lint off his sleeve. "That method failed, however. Anakin is dead now, vanished. Destroyed. Done. You will not find him here. I don't particularly care what came between you two or what was between you two. What you need to know is that you haven't fooled me and you won't. If I don't want him to see you or talk to you, I can come up with plenty of distractions to occupy his time."
"And why would you wish to do that?"
Tarkin blinked, inwardly groaning. That question wasn't really necessary either, because they both knew the answer. "I know as well as you do why Vader is keeping you alive," he answered. "That 'connection' still exists somewhere and he feels it. You intend to use that in the hopes of maybe seeing your precious boy emerge at some point. It won't happen."
Kenobi cocked a brow, not quite as confident as before, but still hopeful. "You're so sure?"
Tarkin nodded. "Yes. A question to prove my point: why are you afraid of me?" Ah, yes... not much, but the man had narrowed his eyes just a tad. He'd scored yet another hit. "You are keeping me alive for the same reason I am keeping you alive. We both don't have quite the hold on him that we want yet, and so we can't stir up the pot too much for fear of it boiling over. Am I right?"
Those eyes were ice again, colder than before if possible. Tarkin still didn't budge. He knew the cell would hold anything short of Vader himself. Kenobi was strong, but not that strong. Specially-crafted durasteel would withstand a Force-attack... in theory, at least. Tarkin was banking on that theory being fact.
A second later, that no longer mattered. The blaster that had previously been resting securely at his hip went flying through the air, spun cleanly through the tight space between the bars, and landed perfectly in Kenobi's outstretched hand. Before the clang of the impact of the two metal objects finished echoing, the barrel was an inch away from his left eye, as still as the walls around them.
Tarkin froze, and for a few long moments the only sound to be heard was the desperate vibrations of the door down the hall as some of his men attempted to open it. Tarkin knew they wouldn't succeed, though. Kenobi seemed to have a hold on the door as well. He'd been a fool to come in here alone.
He can't kill me yet. He won't, not yet, not now. The timing isn't right... Or so he hoped. Maybe he'd miscalculated somewhere and the man really was going to kill him. All he could do was stare down the blaster with his left eye and glare at Kenobi with the other. A million thoughts began to run through his head, a million different things he could say, and yet he couldn't seem to form a word.
Kenobi, it seemed, didn't have the same problem. It made sense, since he was the one holding the gun...
The Jedi's eyes glinted dangerously as he fingered the trigger. "Right on one account, Tarkin," he stated, bitterly admitting the fact. "I can't kill you yet." The blaster shifted ever-so-slightly and Kenobi fired a single shot past Tarkin's head and into the wall.
Tarkin tried his best not to flinch, and yet he still did. The fact that he'd come that close to setting this man off was reason enough to flinch.
He smiled nonetheless. Today's victory belonged to him, and him alone. He'd made sure Kenobi knew who really held the power around here. "Which is why I suggest you stop threatening me," he smoothly replied. "I may not be able to kill you either, but torture is not entirely out of the question. Don't push me."
The blaster dropped from the Jedi's hand and almost made it to the floor before it jerked to the left, flew straight across the cell and smashed into pieces against the wall. Tarkin didn't flinch this time. He glanced once at the remains of his weapon and then sighed. "Frivolous displays of your mysterious Jedi powers will get you nowhere, I assure you."
Kenobi continued to stare right at him. "There's nothing mysterious about them. If you tear him away from me again, I will kill you. It's that simple."
Tarkin's heart skipped a beat, but he maintained his stoic expression. "Jedi don't kill in cold blood."
"Time tends to change a man, especially one of my various... escapades," Kenobi replied in a low voice. Then he slowly turned around and casually strolled to the back of his cell, lowering himself down against the wall. The door down the hall burst open and men flooded through, but Kenobi simply shut his eyes and leaned back. "You are free to leave now."
Tarkin dismissed the arrogant statement and display of the Force as afterthoughts. He'd seen plenty of such displays in his life. It only served to remind him of how careful he needed to be and nothing else. This man was not a serious threat so long as Tarkin maintained a firm grasp on Vader's state of mind.
"Are you alright, sir?" one of his men asked. The others had their blasters pointed at Kenobi. A wasted effort, but a valiant one nonetheless.
Tarkin nodded. "None the worse for wear, gentleman. This man merely needed a reminder of who's in control around here..." he trailed off at a surprising chuckle from the Jedi.
One eye peeked open. "If by 'control' you mean 'power', then I'm afraid you are terribly confused. Neither you nor I have any control over anything. We would be fools to think otherwise."
Tarkin cocked a brow at him and crossed his arms, impatient. This exhausting muse had gone on long enough, and he was growing frustrated at this man's drastic change in emotions. One minute Kenobi was a flick of the finger away from killing him and the next he was laughing at him. Tarkin was simply over it. "I would like to believe that I have at least some say around here, and certainly when it comes to important decisions."
The other eye opened and he was once again met with a piercing gaze. "Perhaps you do, but Anakin is far more important than you lead yourself to believe. I would also advise you to pay a little more attention to your own precarious position." He paused to lean back once more, eyelids dropping down again. "Anakin didn't take kindly to the last man who tried to get inside his head."
Tarkin frowned, hating that Kenobi had brought that up. He'd desperately been ignoring that little tidbit ever since it happened. Yes, he was in a dangerous situation, but he knew he was better equipped than Sidious had been, and in a far more discreet position in relation to Ana - Vader. Lord Vader. Anakin was dead and would stay that way for many years to come. He would make sure of it.
He offered Kenobi a final smirk, even though the man was no longer paying attention. "We may have different goals, Jedi, but you are walking the same line as I am. If Vader has any sense at all, you'll be dead by the end of the week." He left it at that and turned to go, leading the way down the hall at a measured pace.
The casual steps were intended. Tarkin didn't see any need for Kenobi to think that he was running away, though victory certainly hadn't been achieved.
He was a fair man, in any case. He gave credit where credit was due, and that man was a worthy opponent. Besides, he'd rather enjoyed the conversation in spite of almost getting his head blown off.
Tarkin would concede to a draw.
Sorry for all the long dialogue, but Obi-wan has always struck me as the talkative type when backed into a corner. I imagine he'd make a rotten and annoying prisoner, at least with anyone other than Anakin. As for Tarkin, well, he's new to me and may not seem quite the same as his canon character, but judging from what I've read about him and seen, he seems like the slippery, back-stabbing kind of guy, and he actually struck me as similar to Obi-wan, at least in the way he talks. Maybe what Obi-wan might have been like if he'd ever turned dark...
Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if you can spare a few seconds... ;) Back to Anakin in the next chapter!
"Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to become vulnerable." ~ Joyce Brothers