1 Disclaimers and warnings in first chapter.

2 Catharsis: 2

Obi Wan had awoken moments ago, but had yet to open his eyes. The stone floor was icy against his too warm skin and he shivered miserably, pressing his cheek to it as nausea roiled through him. He firmly set his swollen lips together and grit his teeth, fighting back the bile which strove to claim him once more. When the surge had faded to a manageable rolling in his stomach, he slowly opened his eyes.

Focus was evasive, so he settled his gaze on the rusting pair of chains on the far wall. So far, they had gone unused. They fuzzed out and cleared as his eyes saw fit and he made no attempt to remedy the problem.

Obi Wan struggled to get a firm grasp on the Force but it seemed to recoil from him. He was left alone.

He thought that it was no wonder, remembering his early behavior. He cringed, realizing the hoarseness in his throat was most likely a result of his childish crying. He felt shameful and humiliated. A Jedi would not have screamed. More importantly, Qui Gon would not have screamed.

He closed his eyes shut and moaned softly in anguish.

Where was Qui Gon? Why had his master left him? He remembered the pale blue eyes so clearly, steadying him as the torture wore on, until they were all that existed outside the haze of agony, the sharp cords digging into his torn wrists, the cruel, biting coil of stripped wire layering welt upon welt on his bared back. He remembered vaguely sensing their captor, Bro'ven Shahn, standing to the side and his master seemed to be speaking with him. He did not recall any words being said, there was no sound outside his own haggard breathing and grunts at the reception of each blow. Obi Wan had closed his eyes, he had thought only for a moment, but when he opened them his master was gone.

Terror had seized him, then, curling its icy fingers around his aching limbs and pulling him far down into its depths. He felt all hope leave him, all the sense he had, all the capacity for coherent thought flicker and, like the dying flame of a candle, was snuffed out, leaving him prey to the vicious, maw-like perils of fear and suffering. He could not even conjure up an image of the man they repeatedly asked him about, much less give a name, a place.

Obi Wan had searched the faces of the Rii'Diarian men beating him one by one, frantically looking for Qui Gon, until one laced his long fingers in the adolescent's matted hair and jerked his head upwards cruelly.

"He left. You're all alone," he sneered into Obi Wan's ear, and the young Jedi felt a sudden crack in his knee and pain blossomed and ate up his leg like fire.

That was what pushed Obi Wan over the edge. He released the last thread of control he had latched onto and it was incinerated in the waves of agony he unleashed. In a way, it felt good, and in the back of his mind he dimly thought that it was somewhat similar to releasing one's tension to the Force, this vocalization of his pain. He had let it consume him without a thought, relishing the simplicity of it all. He wondered only why he had not done it sooner. There was no effort involved in this way, no requirement for him to think, to concentrate on what came out of his mouth. He simply shut down and took what punishments they gave him.

Obi Wan shuddered at the memory, self-loathing rushed over him. He felt horrified that he had given up so easily, and was suddenly very glad that Qui Gon had not been with him to witness it. He could clearly see the look of disgust which most certainly would have passed over the master's face, a result of seeing his student give in.

Salty tears stung the open wounds on Obi Wan's face and he grimaced at the spiteful return of his weakness. He sobbed once more and curled his hand into a fist, weakly pounding it on the floor, deliberately jarring the injuries on his shoulder, feeding them to take his mind away from the thoughts of his failure.



It might have been a day; it might have been a week. Qui Gon had spent so much time in meditation he felt that he surely deserved a commendation from the council. Obi Wan would certainly be impressed.

A dull ache lanced through him at the thought of his apprentice. He could no longer hear the boy, but could feel him through the bond they shared. Qui Gon frowned. When he tried to reach him, Obi Wan seemed to shy away from his touch. He knew the youth was there but could not make contact with him. He assumed his padawan was very weak, especially without the Force at his command. It had taken Qui Gon so much time and concentration to regain the power he know had, certainly Obi Wan had not been that lucky. Still, he should have been able to touch the boy's mind.

Unless he had not gathered as much power as he thought. Qui Gon closed his eyes and stretched his senses. He could feel-

A table.

A guard, very relaxed, toying with Qui Gon's lightsaber.

Three doors; one led out to a long hall. that was the way out. Another led to his padawan, and the other to his own cell. Bro'ven Shahn was no where.

Big mistake, Shahn. Qui Gon smiled grimly and stood. He flexed his muscles quickly and stretched, popping his shoulders. Get the guard, get Obi Wan, get out. Bro'ven Shahn could be back at any time and, as powerful as the temptation to have a square go with the Rii'Diarian was, his padawan's safetly came first.

He calmed himself and used a powerful surge of Force suggestion to create a strong sense of disquiet in the Rii'Diarian outside. It wasn't long before the locks on his door were decoded and it slid open. The man was extremely uneasy, Qui Gon could feel his apprehension clearly. He was very pleased with the amount of control he had and, channeling a bit of his power through his hand, flicked his wrist slightly. The blaster the Rii'Diarian held was jerked from his hand and sent clattering across the stone floor.

The guard did not say a thing. He merely glanced at his weapon, now out of reach, and looked back at Qui Gon. He raised his hands into the air above his head and said flatly, "I don't want any trouble."

Qui Gon suppressed a growl and advanced upon the man. He shoved him roughly against the wall and began feeling in pockets.

"You should have thought of that before you got yourself into this."

He found a key and knew it was for both his and Obi Wan's cells.



"Shahn is away," he stated, "Tell me when he plans to return."

"About a standard hour," the man said readily.

Qui Gon probed the man's mind briefly, only just deeply enough to know he was being truthful. He was irked by the easy helpfulness the other was showing him. Surely, this couldn't be the same being who had sauntered into his cell every few hours with the same question?

"Where's that minister hiding?"

"You'll have to tell us soon."

"You can't hold any sort of personal affection for the man. Why don't you just tell us which rock he's hiding under and help out your kid? Bro'ven's getting a little carried away in there."

If truth be told, Qui Gon was not at all fond of the Rii'Diarian he and Obi Wan were protecting. He was obnoxious and uncompassionate. He put himself before others and tended to focus on the bills and laws which would make his state more money instead of helping the people in it.

But, Qui Gon's personal feelings were of no importance. He and Obi Wan had been sent to protect the man, and that is what they would do. Even if it ripped the Jedi Master's heart in two.

"You-You're not going to hurt me-right?" the man asked fearfully his cool exterior gone at the stoic expression on Qui Gon's face.

The Jedi pushed him away in disgust and left the cell, shutting and locking it behind him with his former keeper inside.

Quickly, he found his and Obi Wan's lightsabers and clipped them to his belt. He slipped the key into the lock on Obi Wan's door and it swished open. He stepped inside.

Qui Gon very nearly staggered under the weight of sheer hurt in the room; it swirled about him, seeming to twist and distort the very air he breathed. It was physical pain and self-loathing, shame and fear. Qui Gon pushed it aside firmly, like clearing a pathway in heavy underbrush. He palmed the lights and stepped forward.

"Obi Wan?"

This cell was similar to his; rusting chains hung from the wall to his left and it was roughly the same size, but a dirty tunic and robe were balled up in the corner, and there was a mess where someone had been sick near the center of the floor. Also, there was a shelf of some kind jutting out of the wall to his right, wedged into a corner. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was not a shelf at all, but more likely a crude cot or table of some kind. He lightly brushed his fingers on the sticky red smears that covered it. The Jedi closed his eyes briefly, swallowing his fury. Slowly, he knelt to the ground, gripping the edge of the table for support.

"Obi Wan," he repeated, his words no more than a sigh. The sixteen year old was huddled beneath the table, one knee pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His eyes stared vacantly ahead, the pits smudged with darkness. The face was drawn and pinched, dirty and bruised. Qui Gon frowned at how pallid the fair skin had become. Obi Wan made no sign that he was aware of his master's presence. Qui Gon touched the youth's shoulder lightly and found him to be trembling delicately. The bare skin was cool to his touch so he stood to retrieve the boy's robe.

"Leaving again?"

The bitter words stopped him and he turned.

"What?" He returned to his spot on the floor and found the blue green orbs of his apprentice fastened on his own, glistening with tears.

"You-You left me," Obi Wan said helplessly. "They hurt me."

Qui Gon was shaking his head before the boy could finish. "No, Obi Wan, never! Never. I would never leave you. They took me away; don't you remember? I've just been in the next cell over." He took the boy's pinched face into his hands, brushing away the tears that escaped. He gave the gentle cleft in Obi Wan's chin an affectionate rub with his thumb.

"I've spent the past-" he faltered, and found he had no idea how long he had spent in meditation. He realized, with a pang, that in a sense he had left poor Obi Wan alone, though he told himself he had had no choice. He had turned all his attention to getting back control of the Force. The rumble in his stomach told him it had been some time since he had last been fed; he postulated at least two days since he had last seen Obi Wan since Shahn had taken to feeding him once daily. He breathed deeply and started again.

"I've regained my Force power, Obi Wan. Shahn isn't here; we can leave now. Can you walk?"

In shame, Obi Wan dropped his gaze, shook his head. He gestured at the leg splayed out in front of him. "My knee, it's-they broke it." He shook his head in chagrin and went on brokenly, "I'm so sorry, Master."

"No, Obi Wan," Qui Gon said steadily, casting about for something to use to brace the leg with, "Don't be sorry. Don't try to move, Padawan. I'll be right back."

The youth nodded and Qui Gon stood. He left the cell and made a fair mess of the room outside, searching for something to help ease Obi Wan's pain.

***

Thanks for all those excellent reviews, guys! I came on thinking I should take the story off the site when I saw them, and was ecstatic! They were really encouraging. You're all very sweet.