His body was still badly broken from combat when they came. Held hostage by the toxin that coursed through him, the world spun and swayed in sick, lolling arcs. Nausea gripped him. His heart was beating, slamming so hard against his innards that he could feel its pulse in his belly. He could feel his veins, how they webbed and ached beneath his skin, still adulterated by traces of Anoat's atmosphere that his body struggled to metabolize.

The medical attention he'd been privy too had been minimal, just enough to keep him alive and nothing more. There would be no respite, nothing spared on his behalf. Not after he'd single-handedly slaughtered an entire platoon of innocent Clones who'd been sworn to serve at his behest. It all felt like a tedious, horrid nightmare. One that he'd relived too many times.

The binds they forced him into felt like ice as they cinched around his wrists in a bruising, punishing grip. Their heaviness felt excessive, purposefully so. Or perhaps he was just too weak, too eroded from battle to withstand much more. His feet moved as he staggered forward, the left nearly tripping over the right. Intolerant of any delay, Clones on either side of him hoisted him by his upper arms, wrenching painfully on his shoulders as his body sagged.

He tried to find purchase on the ground beneath him but they moved too fast for him to effectively right himself to be able to walk. Instead they dragged him down the ship's docking ramp and through the temple. By the time he'd been deposited onto the Council Chamber's floor it felt as if both his shoulders had been dislocated. Despite the blinding pain it brought, he willed himself to stand. He wouldn't face the Council lying in a sorry, sobbing heap.

He stood with great effort, chest heaving from pain and toil, and took stock of himself and his surroundings. Dreadful surprise overtook him. He suppressed its effects, unwilling to admit to it or the inexcusable ignorance it implied. The Council would try to pin it on his own vainglory, but if they looked inside him, they would know there was none of that to be had. There wasn't a single shred of pride in his heart to be fashioned into such a beastly thing. His monsters were borne of something else entirely.

This was carelessness manifest; the fruit of his dying, calloused soul. He'd suffered too much to feel the weight of all his transgressions at once. It were as if his capacity for suffering was finite, and he'd reached his limit. Past that the galaxy had become a black and crimson stained abyss, its maw studded with razor sharp teeth, impossible to escape alive or unharmed.

With no introduction or explanation, Mace toggled the holo display to life. Its blue shimmering mass danced, filling the center of the room with its glow as the windows automatically dimmed for better viewing. A spread of holonet newsreels filled the space, all of them peddling the same, sick images.

The whole galaxy knew. What would Ahsoka think of him now?

The whole world seemed to tilt on its axis, nearly throwing Obi-wan to the ground again. Determined, he held himself steady, his stomach wrenching and twisting in his gut. His skin burned. If it wasn't for the metal collar around his neck severing him from the force he would have felt their revulsion and contempt echo in every cell of his body. He still felt it though, even without the force. He knew every being in the temple would have been bombarded by its low, dull thrum.

Violence, blind rage and base retribution were second nature to him now. It felt like a just answer to the kind of evil that existed in the galaxy. Of course, revenge wasn't the Jedi way. Torturing someone to their slow, inevitable death was abhorrent, an abomination to the Code. Unforgivable.

He couldn't deny that he'd stopped trying after he'd taken the Barrish. After that, he'd stopped living as a Jedi. Obi-wan Kenobi was dead, the dark had killed him. Only an empty husk remained.

One of the holos began to play. He'd been trembling before but now his bones were shaking. It was so much worse than he'd feared. He never wanted to see this, never wanted to know the intimate details of what Anakin had suffered at the hands of that sadistic bounty hunter. The list the puck had detailed was grueling enough but this, this was breaking him, it was meant to. The visceral horror, the blood, the twisted games and heart shattering cries all the while being helpless to make any of it stop. He couldn't even beg for mercy, for some reprieve. He knew he didn't deserve it.

It went on for so long. It felt like forever, being suspended in the worst kind of hell. His awareness danced between lucidity and his own fantasies of murdering that beast again, slower this time, making him writhe and cry and beg, just as his precious Anakin had been made to.

Finally the holo crackled out, leaving them in silence. He couldn't find a trace of remorse in his heart. Even the small voice of the Jedi within was willfully silent. He was seething, fresh bloodlust aching along with the poison his body still fought against.

"Play it again," Mace ordered, snarling, spittle flying from his lips. Jedi were to harbor no emotions but Windu made no excuses for his vehement rage. Despite the grisly contents, not even Master Yoda contested him.

Obi-wan braced himself as it began again. His mind wouldn't let him stray to thoughts of revenge this time. It were as if it wanted him to feel every ounce of pain that could be derived from this torture, to commit every scene to memory for posterity. So that he could see just how badly he'd failed Anakin for allowing this to happen at all.

Involuntary tears streamed down his face as the monster threw Anakin onto the cheap, worn mattress and climbed on top of him again. The poor boy wove in and out of consciousness as he was tortured, beaten and brutally raped.

High pitch whines and whimpers broke through the air and ragged sobs and cries for help knifed through him. Anakin even called out for him in his more lucid moments, choked and gargled as the monster beat and strangled every ounce of resistance out of him. This time when he saw himself descend on the bounty hunter, he felt a small, wicked smile pull on his lips as he relived the moment. He swore he could feel the hot slick of blood, smell the rich iron as he wielded the knife carefully, as not to sever an artery too soon.

The holo ran to its end again, another bout of silence in its wake. Obi-wan had nothing to say to defend himself. He didn't feel the need. Not only was there no point in trying to explain himself to these single-minded Jedi imbeciles, but he felt vindicated. Righteous. Never had his actions felt more justified than they did to him now.

Mace pensively crossed the floor to stand before him as the holo display dissipated and the windows brightened once again, letting Coruscant's midday light flood the space. His dark eyes held the sting of betrayal. Obi-wan gazed back emptily. This, was over. They could all see him for what he was now. In a sense, it felt freeing. He couldn't care less of what they thought about him. They only mattered to the extent that they could keep him away from Anakin. They were only an obstacle to him now.

"And to think I thought you were my brother," Mace sneered, confirming what his eyes had already revealed.

Obi-wan only answered with silence. Sadness crossed over the man's eyes.

"I wonder. Did Obi-wan ever really come back from Kraysiss Two?"

A staggering blow, the words cut him deeper than he expected. A sense of mourning for himself, for the Jedi that was dead and gone, filled the empty chasm behind his ribs.

The answer, was no.

Sensing the shift and curious of it, Mace pressed in on his mind. He felt the man's will wrap tightly around his skull, squeezing and aching. He was weak without the force to aid him, even more for the toxin his body still fought. Despite it all he fought against him. He'd worked long and hard to build his defenses in order to keep appearances as they were. He wasn't about to give in now.

"Impressive. What else are you hiding in there?"

As the assault intensified all who sat spectating were rapt in silent horror. It was common knowledge that evil existed in the galaxy. The Jedi were the light, keeping such things at bay. It was unusual for such darkness to worm its way in past their defenses. But someone left the back door open. Someone let him back in. They shouldn't have, but they did, and now that wildly alluring darkness was staring back at them, fettered in chains right in their midst. He was an unwilling specimen, writhing like an olabrian trichoid under a microscope and according to them, just as lethal.

Frustrated by his resistance Mace pressed harder. Pain blossomed in his skull. It felt like an icepick between his temples, searing bright and terrible. He hadn't felt the scream tear from his throat but he heard its echo against the chamber's high ceilings. It would have been heard all throughout this wing of the temple, maybe even further.

"Enough!" Master Yoda shouted, rapping his gimmerstick on the ground violently, nearly splitting the thing in two.

Submitting to the little green Master, Mace relented. Suddenly exhausted from exertion, Obi-wan collapsed to the ground. The room was spinning too fast, and he had to close his eyes to keep from retching right then and there.

"We need to know what he's hiding Master Yoda. Who knows how he might have compromised republic Intel. He could be a separatist spy himself. Or worse, a SITH!" Mace shouted, chest heaving.

"Judge and Jury, you are, Master Windu? Emotional you are, we all are. Time to process and decide the best course of action, we need."

Yoda regarded him for a moment, crossing the floor to examine him. Obi-wan's eyes fluttered open. Unsteadily, he pulled himself to his knees, doubting his ability to do much else. The Jedi's gaze was utterly heartbroken. Obi-wan hadn't seen him in such a state his entire life. Not even when Qui-gon died had he been so crestfallen. The sight was enough to weaken his tightly held defenses.

"Grave attachment. Possessiveness. Rage. Bloodlust. Darkness. These are all things I see in you, Obi-wan. Regret, I sense, even if you deny it. Feel it, I do."

"All things the Sith could take advantage of-" Mace retorted.

"I can't even begin to imagine how Anakin has been affected," Ki-Adi murmured from his place at the edge of the room, face pale as death.

"Who knows what he's done with him. He could have even been the one to arrange Skywalker's capture. He's a grave security threat Master-"

Suddenly Obi-wan's mind cleared as the poisonous fog abated slightly. Deep from within, he found the strength to stand even though his body protested it. "What- Where is Anakin?" Obi-wan barked, his voice like gravel. He was hardly in a state to be making demands.

"That doesn't concern you Obi-wan," Mace sneered.

"He didn't come back from Anoat?" Obi-wan said shallowly, a new sickness taking root in his belly, spurned of fear. Images flashed in his mind, reminding him of what happened the last time Anakin went missing. His cries still rang fresh in his ears, begging his Master to save him, to make it stop.

Were they even trying to rescue him?

"Take Kenobi to the holding cell, until decided his fate is," Yoda bit out.

Guards rushed at him from both sides, one on each arm as they hauled him away from the chamber. Immediately they began to whisper amongst themselves, debating what would deem a consequence worthy of his sins. As the grand twin doors opened, a familiar set of wrathful brown eyes bore through him as they passed, glittering with revenge.

Padmé's shoulders were broad, her chin held high as she addressed the Council. "Masters, there's something I need to tell you about Anakin. And Obi-wan."

….

Bathed in its crimson glow, Obi-wan stared out at the ray shield and flirted with the idea of plunging straight through it in hopes of a quick death. It was weakness, but alluring all the same. He longed for an escape, from this cell, reality, or both.

Cut off from the force it would be impossible to escape. And if he did break out of this cell, there would be an army of Jedi who hated him between him and any exit. But he had to escape, Anakin needed him. Clearly the Council were not concerned with his capture. It was just as well. Anakin was his to protect, not theirs.

The thought gave him life. Without Anakin, living was pointless. He had to get out somehow. He was determined to be ready when the opportunity presented. There was nothing in the entire galaxy that could keep them apart. He simply refused to allow it.

It was more than just a matter of attachment. Obi-wan had made a vow to him, surrendered his soul to him. His body, his life, belonged to him. He wouldn't squander that sacrifice in the throes of selfish desperation. Anakin deserved better, so much better than him. The only thing he could do was try to live up to his promise.

If only the galaxy wasn't set against him.

If not the galaxy, he was certain that at the very least Padmé was dead set against him. She was close to Anakin in a capacity that had yet to become clear. His heart told him she was a jealous, rival lover, willing to send him to his death to keep Anakin to herself. Perhaps she was willing to spin lies to do it. Or would she even have to?

She probably knew everything about their relationship before he'd taken the Barrish. Anakin had been lonely, heartbroken, devastated. Padmé had been there to soothe his pain. The thought of Anakin and Padmé tangled up together stoked a jealous rage in his heart that felt futile to fight against.

"Master," a voice whispered, breaking him free from the prison of his thoughts.

Obi-wan's eyes snapped up to meet the being who was giving an earnest effort at stealth.

"Ahsoka!" Obi-wan whispered, totally baffled. Her eyes were wide, posture tense. More than fearful, she was terrified.

"What are you doing, you shouldn't be here," he began, looking about for any trouble that might have followed her.

"I had to warn you Master," she spoke, the threat of tears quaking in her voice. "The Council made their decision. They are setting up a mind probe-"

"It's going to be okay Ahsoka," Obi-wan consoled. He had hardly expected to escape without being thoroughly interrogated. While uncomfortable, it was not unimaginable.

"No, you don't understand. They're going to break you! Master Windu said they don't care what happens. The whole council will be working together on the probe. After they get all they can, they're bringing in a Mairan to finish the job."

A chill ran down Obi-wan's spine as a cold sweat broke out over his skin. Now he understood her fear.

"What?" He asked, delayed, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

There was a part of him that wanted to believe it was a rumour. Mairans were well known for their force powers, specifically telepathy. They had the uncanny ability to rearrange someone's mind, extract memories on demand. No one escaped a Mairan without losing themselves in the process. At best he would be a walking catatonic mess for the rest of his days. At worst, death could result.

"They said you're too dangerous, that they couldn't risk taking any chances," Ahsoka said, wiping her eyes dry.

"Are you absolutely sure of this?"

"Yes, Master. I heard the whole thing," Ahsoka admitted, not giving up any secret as to how she managed to eavesdrop on the Council proceedings. He knew her well enough to know her affinity for mischief and knack for being where she didn't belong knew no bounds. Right now, he was thankful for that. In so many ways her tenacious spirit reminded him of Anakin.

"Just tell me what to do! Tell me how to get you out of here. I can't let them break you," she begged.

Obi-wan didn't answer. He was frozen in thought. Should he allow her to help him? He'd already failed her greatly as a Master, failed her in every way he possibly could. She owed him nothing, risked losing everything if she was found helping him in any capacity. That was one of the last ways he could fail her, he supposed. She deserved better. Ahsoka, Anakin, they both deserved better than he was capable of ever giving.

Clearing her throat, she spoke sternly. "What you did was wrong…" she said, serious as a Jedi Master. So she saw the footage. She did understand, at least in part, what he was capable of.

"But after what that man did to Anakin," she paused, bewilderment falling over her. "I understand. I know what he means to you. You are not a monster, Master."

And that was where she was wrong. He was a monster, she needed to understand that. The Jedi that barely existed in his heart told him he deserved this, that it would be wrong to accept her help. If it wasn't for Anakin, the choice would be easy.

"If you help me, they might exile you from the order," Obi-wan said gravely.

"I know," she said impatiently. "And if you don't tell me what to do soon, I won't have time to help you. They will be coming any second."

"There should be a control panel down the hall to the left, recessed into the wall. It will be hidden. Find it and try to short out the shield," Obi-wan cut out, feeling imminence flood his bones.

Obediently, she darted off. His heart pounded in his chest as he begged the force to lead him to Anakin. Things couldn't end like this. The last time he'd seen Anakin, things had been left unresolved. The thought of never seeing him again or losing him, all their memories both good and bad, was worse than death.

No matter how they justified it, using a Mairan on him was blatant revenge for his infidelity to the Order, for the betrayal that had obviously left its mark. He understood their pain, even regretted his hand in it for a moment, but retribution was a sin against their own metrics. It was hypocritical for them to erase him for spite.

No, they would never admit to revenge. They would never admit to the reasons they conjured between themselves, either. At least not to him. He didn't need to hear it to know. He already knew.

He was dangerous because he used to be one of them- one of the best. He'd been a model Knight of the Order. Master of the Chosen One. That made him even more dangerous. Someone as damaged as himself holding sway over such a prophetic Jedi, corrupting and twisting him, ruining his potential and likely damning the entire order in the process. They had to erase him not just out of spite, but out of fear.

Ahsoka ran back, her eyes wide and frightened. "Master, It won't work, I can't get it to open. What else can I do-"

"I think you've done quite enough, Padawan Tano. I am very, disappointed in you," Mace rumbled, glaring at Obi-wan through the red veil.

"Go to your quarters. The Council will summon you when they are ready to deal with you."

Ahsoka froze, her eyes panicked.

"Go on, Ahsoka. Do as he says." Obi-wan ordered in a Masterly voice.

"But Master-" she whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"It's all going to be alright. I was wrong to try to get you to help me escape. It was selfish, I'm sorry." Obi-wan said grimly, attempting to take as much blame off of her as he could. Mace eyed him skeptically, a curl of disgust on his lip.

As Ahsoka was escorted down the hall she gave him one last heartbroken, sorrowful glance. It nearly pushed him to tears.

"I can't help but wonder what new, gruesome surprises you're hiding from us, Obi-wan. After watching the holo and hearing Padmé's testimony, I'm not sure that I want to find out," he spat, his eyes thin slits.

The ray shield disengaged and Mace stood pensively, waiting for Obi-wan to rise from his bunk and follow him. He used the moment to calculate any number of options of escape he had at his disposal. So far there was no hope to be found.

"Are you going to make the guards drag you, or are you going to come willingly?" Mace snarled.

With the poison abated almost completely, he was able to find his feet without much trouble. His whole body ached, his head was pounding, but he was ready. He had to find a way, find something to get him out of here. From his exile he begged the force to save him, to lead him to Anakin. He didn't want to think about what the separatists were doing to him, what the Sith would do with him if given the chance. All the doors he could open for them, he would be nothing but a slave. A key. An inanimate object to use as they saw fit. The thought turned his stomach sour.

With great reluctance Obi-wan rose from the stone cot. His clothes were still tattered and singed from the battle on Anoat. Tainted blood still clung to his tunic in blackened smears. Bruises bloomed on his skin. A particularly large one on the back of his ribs was beginning to ache meanly, and he suspected at least two broken ribs.

Mace regarded him with a look of disdain before he turned to lead them out of the temple's detainment block. Obi-wan felt like such a stranger in this place with his ragged clothes and steel binds. He didn't belong here any longer. He hadn't for quite some time.

Just outside the detainment center Mace met with an entourage of escort Jedi who were ready and waiting to cart Obi-wan off to the heart of the temple, where the force-proof chambers were located. In the safety of a containment room, whatever force effects took place were rendered inert outside its walls. It was where younglings learned how to hone their more dangerous skills. It also made it an excellent place to carry out a psychic attack on someone.

Despite his best efforts not a single window for escape presented. Seconds ticked away bleeding into minutes, and before he knew it they had arrived. Obi-wan could see a Mairan waiting in the room adjacent to the one they were ushering him into. His heart pounded in his ears and cold tears of defeat leaked from his eyes.

There was no escaping this. Dread and bitter regret washed over him in overwhelming waves. So this is how he would die. His body would live on, but he would cease to exist. Anakin would mean nothing to him. His vow would be irrevocably severed. Life would have no meaning, but he would have no means of ending it.

Worse than death , he thought, searching frantically for some way to end it now before it was too late. Before he would be forced to exist empty and alone, feeling the void of what was lost without being able to soothe the pain of it or even remember what it was that left him so bereft. He wasn't sure if he believed in hell, but if he did, this would be as close as one could get to it.

He wanted to fall to his knees and let go of the sob that lingered in his chest, but he wouldn't give in. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing they were already breaking him. He grieved for Anakin, for how he was unable to rescue him from whatever torment he was being subjected to. For all the ways he'd failed him.

More than anything else he regretted leaving. Two years lost, two years that could never be regained, that he should have spent by Anakin's side instead of running like a coward from his own fears. Now he wouldn't even have two more hours. It was over. This is how it ended, how it was always going to end.

"Before we begin, do you have anything you would like to say?" Mace said. He sounded sorrowful, almost like he felt regret for what they were about to do to him. It wasn't personal, it was the respect any Jedi would give to a being on the brink of death. He didn't want it. And no, he wasn't going to make this easier for them. If they wanted his memories, they would have to pry them one by one from his bleeding, broken fingers.

The door to the chamber opened, and all the council members waited inside. Just as he was about to cross the threshold a rush of hurried footsteps clambered to meet them.

"Excuse me," a voice chimed. It was an irritable, gravely, weathered voice. Obi-wan recognized it immediately.

He quickly pivoted and Mace did as well, the Korunian Master's face twisting with frustrated confusion.

"Chancellor Palpatine," he said, unwelcoming. "What are you doing here?"

"I believe I should be asking you the same thing, Master Windu," the Chancellor said gruffly, four senate guards flanking on both sides. He wasn't just here on diplomatic business, not with an escort like that in the Jedi temple.

"Jedi affairs are none of your concern, Chancellor," Mace nearly snarled.

"When Jedi business involves crimes against basic rights, Jedi affairs become my business I assure you," Palpatine answered darkly.

"According to my sources and what I see before me, you are prepared to torture Master Kenobi and permanently damage his mind. The use of a Mairan to torture and interrogate is strictly against Galactic law, under all circumstances. It has been for many hundreds of years, Master Windu."

Mace gritted his teeth and held his breath while Obi-wan's heart rattled desperately in his chest. He was highly suspicious of the Chancellors motivations, however any escape from his current set of circumstances would be welcome regardless.

"You don't understand the nature of Kenobi's crimes, Chancellor. We have testimony from Senator Amidalla, as well as video evidence of a violent murder, which I'm sure you've seen yourself."

"And what you don't have is proof of charges, or jurisdiction over this matter." Palpatine asserted.

"You can press murder charges, then." Mace suggested, helplessly frustrated.

"Indeed. I've come to bring him into custody. From here on out, this is no longer a Jedi matter. In exchange for your willing cooperation and for the sake of public faith in the Jedi and the war effort... I will overlook your ignorance of Galactic law."

Mace shot Obi-wan an ugly look before taking a deep breath to compose himself.

"As you command, Chancellor. Take him and do what you will. Obi-wan is no longer welcome among the Jedi."

"Duly noted, Master Windu," Palpatine said, a single, critical brow arching.

When they turned to leave, Obi-wan did not look back at Mace or the council. He shuddered as he saw the Mairan one last time, knowing he easily could have fallen victim to it and all the trauma of having his memories sorted through by the Council like a broken, cardboard box.

As the transport carried them away Obi-wan stood emptily, watching the Temple recede into the skyline. For the first time he was severed from the Order in the truest sense. He was no longer a Jedi, no longer felt the weight of his lightsaber on his belt.

He would have to build another.