Ok then, here is the next chapter. I had a minor case of writer's block for a while there, and tonight it just magically disappeared. Read and enjoy!

Qui-Gon rubbed his temples as he sat on the bench. Two weeks. Two weeks and still nothing. It had been two weeks since his Padawan had been kidnapped, and Qui-Gon was no closer to finding him now than before.

The information given to him by the slavers about the man who had purchased Obi-Wan had turned out to be incorrect. But whether the error was in the slavers or the owner, Qui-Gon didn't know. It made perfect sense for the purchaser to give false information, in case the datapad was seized by police officials.

So Qui-Gon had run into a dead end. He'd gone back to the slave market to try and hunt down the woman again to get the correct information, but she had been nowhere in sight. No one else there had seen her either. She had either run from something, or had gone out to capture more innocent people.

The Jedi looked up as a shadow blocked the sun. It was Tesial, who looked down at him with a grave look on his face. For two weeks, the officer had stayed with Qui-Gon in his search for Obi-Wan, even coming to see if he could help on his off-days. Qui-Gon turned to him as the young man sat down next to him.

"You don't have to help anymore, you know. Everyone else has given up," Qui-Gon said sadly, knowing how true it really was.

Tesial shook his head. "I can't."

"And why is that?"

Tesial looked at him, his eyes pained. "Because I know what you're going through." He sighed and stared out at the ruined city for a moment. "I know exactly how you feel," he said, not turning back to Qui-Gon. "I know what it feels like to lose a son to these people. I had a son too. His name was Kyle, and he was four years old. He was taken, kidnapped, by those...people." He turned back to Qui-Gon. "We never found him. It tore me and my wife apart. She blamed me for not doing enough."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I see."

Tesial smiled and turned back to the city. "So I have to find your Padawan, so another person won't have to feel that same pain. It's unbearable."

Qui-Gon didn't answer, but stood up. "Well," he said after a moment, "I haven't given up on him. So, let's go find him."

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Obi-Wan leaned his head against the dirt wall when everything suddenly started to spin. He struggled to catch his breath, knowing that if he paused for too long he would have a new scar on his back from the whip. His vision slowly cleared, but he knew that something wasn't right. Something hadn't been right since he had come to this horrid slave camp.

He, like most of the older male slaves, had been sent to digging a trench that would allow water from a river to flow into the crop fields. Each slave was required to dig at least thirty feet of trench four feet deep by the end of the workday, or else face the wrath of the guards.

The slaves also risked not getting their daily dose of spice, which pained some more than others. Obi-Wan had fought the drug with all his will, but found that its power was far beyond is control. Once in his body, he couldn't make the drug go away or lose its effectiveness. And once the drug cleared itself out, Obi-Wan found himself in constant pain, yearning for more. He hated this, but could not find a way to get out of it.

He stared up at the sun for a moment. How long had he been here? More than five days, more than ten days. About two weeks, he guessed. He scoffed. Great, only two weeks here and already they had ruined his body. Inside and out.

Two weeks of harsh treatment had not been kind to the Padawan, though he fared better than some. His back was covered with slowly-healing gashes from the whips, with some already scarring. His broken rib had refused to heal in any kind of way, becoming a constant source of pain for him.

But he could look around him and see those that would not last the rest of the week. Some had been here for some time, and harsh labor along with the drugs had taken a terrible toll on their bodies. But they were still sent out to work, day after day.

You'd think he would want to keep the slaves alive to get the most out of his money, Obi-Wan thought to himself as his head cleared. He shook his head as he began to shovel more dirt. He just didn't understand these kind of people...

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Qui-Gon frowned as he looked around the market. Once again, his heart was torn to see the faces of the slaves up for sale, but he knew that he couldn't do anything about it. Not without compromising his Padawan. Once he had Obi-Wan back, the police could come in and arrest everyone for all he cared. Just as long as none of the poor souls here had to go through what Obi-Wan was going through.

He felt a now-familiar pang in his heart when he thought of his Padawan. It had taken him far too long. His Padawan had been a slave for far too long. What if Obi-Wan thought Qui-Gon had given up on him and lost hope? It would break his spirit and tear him apart. Obi-Wan thrived on his strong spirit, which gave him the ability to bounce back from whatever happened. But if it was broken, would Obi-Wan even be recognizable?

Qui-Gon shook his head. Obi-Wan will be alright. He'll be alright, he told himself over and over as he searched the crowd for the Yulia woman who had given him the incorrect information. He had walked the entire distance of the market four times before he stopped. The woman was not here. He frowned and stared blankly into the crowd.

A tugging on his tunic caught his attention. A young woman stood beside him, he head down. "Excuse me, sir. Are you looking for someone? I've seen you walk past three times already."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Yes, I am looking for someone. Perhaps you know where they are?"

The girl looked up at him tentatively, revealing tired grey eyes. "I may know," she said nervously.

She's a slave, Qui-Gon realized. And she's afraid she'll offend me. "I'm looking for a woman named Yulia. She's a slaver that sells here a good bit."

The girl thought for a moment, then shook her head. "She's not here today. She's gone off to Coruscant to see what she can round up there." She glanced around her nervously. "My Master was very disappointed. He was hoping she'd caught more boys like the one he bought a few weeks ago."

Qui-Gon's heart stopped at the girl's words. "He's bought from her recently?"

"Yes. He buys from her all the time."

"Do you know if he's bought a twenty-year-old human male named Obi-Wan Kenobi recently?"

The girl's eyes widened. "You know him? I mean...yes, he did buy an Obi-Wan. More than two weeks ago."

Qui-Gon reached and grasped the girl's shoulders, but then released her when he saw her flinch. "I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?" he asked gently.

Her eyes darted around, as if searching for someone lurking in the shadows. "Arlin. Master Escalo is my Master. I've been in his service since I was very young."

Qui-Gon smiled. Perhaps this was the break he had been searching for. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn," he leaned closer to her, letting her know that what he was telling her was secret and meant only for her ears. "I'm a Jedi Master. Obi-Wan is my Padawan apprentice."

Arlin smiled sadly. "So he was telling the truth about that." She shook her head. "It's too late for him now. He'll already be half-dead by the time you'd get to him, if you're lucky."

"I need to find him. Please, will you help me?"

Arlin chewed on her lip for a moment, her eyes trained on the crowd. "I don't know what help I could be, but I'll do what I can. Obi-Wan doesn't deserve this. No one does," she added quietly.