Shanobi First off, thank you so much for your comments. And I agree that a lot of fics are needlessly dark. I hope mine has more of a meaning than that. Thank you for reading!

Athena Leigh I hope it melds well with the first! And thank you for your feedback. You're so great!

Two: Descended

Dusk has fallen, so that it can meld in with the trend here, another note in the sick, static harmony of this thick, cement-and-steel cage.

Most things here fall.

The molded dust from the ceiling, drifting down like a thin puff of ash.

Bodies to the ground, after the day's last trudging step.

Eyelids…finally falling…

Sometimes, never to lift again.

I don't doubt there are those who crave the end. After awhile, the void seems a lovely, numbing pool, never closer. The spirit can only endure so long before it too is weighed down by the chains. There comes a time when you stop reaching through the bars. When you begin to reach for something else, a freedom that cannot be granted in breath and blood.

I don't sense it in Cellmate's eyes. He's the kind that can belong anywhere and nowhere, can spit and grin and complain at the edge of a pub stool or the lip of a volcano. He could remain in this rotting cavern a hundred years more with an unchanging manner.

Others aren't protected by such coarse skin. Some quietly sink into themselves, or release their frenzied aggression in one bottomless scream.

When I first found myself within the winding corridors and cells of this place, I was locked away in solitary. I wasn't the average, toss-away prisoner. I could be used. I had a purpose—I had many purposes, if the need arose, all within my name and station. I was Jedi.

Not exactly taken lightly within the criminal world.

I couldn't be risked, in a small space with an unruly or dangerous companion. In addition, my abilities could have been employed to flee the prison. So the first shivery days of my captivity were spent clawing the walls, feeling for the catch or seam that would be my salvation, as it had been in the past. I had the training…gods, two decades of training…

But for all the flaws of the old walls, there was no imbedded trick of escape.

If there was a crack, it was within my own mind, gradually chiseled by the questions that became sharper and sharper as time passed: Where was he? Why couldn't I sense him? Worse, what happened to him?

Was he looking for me? Was he nearby, within another cell? Was he just a step away, and I needed to be ready to leap through the damn door when he sliced it open? Did he make it through the night, that night when I…did he make it, or did they lie? What if they lied? Oh gods what if they lied?

Eventually, the thoughts evolved, as my surroundings stayed the same: Does he know that I'm alive? Would he have been able to breakout? Have I let him down?

I've never known the answers to the first two, but for the last, I am certain. And once I was sure, I suppose that's when they knew I would not be the fiery warrior, prepared to bust through the shackles and mow down the guards.

I'm not dreaming of death anymore than I'm dreaming of liberation.

I don't dream of them. I don't fight for them.

I guess I'm the outcast here. I can't fall with the rest tonight. I slept in the day and cannot force myself into unconsciousness again. I never stood or walked.

My soul is beaten down—I can't fall any further.

Sorry for the delay between chapters. I have much more written, so there won't be a gap like that again! And another thanks to those that are reading and reviewing. -LuvEwan