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"Oh no," he muttered, after regaining consciousness, "not good."
Obi-Wan Kenobi groaned as every part of his body screamed in agony at being moved, as he looked upwards and around him. Home again, he thought wryly, as his head pounded and as he slumped back down against the wall. His hands reached upwards in an almost reflexive motion to touch the large, metallic binding around his neck. It was the one thing that isolated him, that made this strange torture almost unbearable. He knew that was its' goal, and that it was almost accomplishing it.
He sighed and rolled over onto the cold floor, gazing up at what he could only assume was the ceiling. The Force suppressor had only been placed on him three days ago, (days were for him now the times in between unconsciousness), but already he could feel the anger, the hate burning inside him, demanding to be let out. So many times he had tried to touch the Force, to wade in it's ever-flowing current, to become one with the world around him, but had only felt a solid wall.
Closing tired eyes, he distracted himself by reviewing what had happened. Mustafar, Padmé, Anakin. The moment of utter despair, and then the instance of pure joy; it was all taken away so quickly. Whoever had captured him had knocked him out immediately; he had no knowledge of his captors. There were never any questions, never any deviations from the routine that had started what seemed an eternity ago. He went to sleep, woke up, ate the food that had appeared in the night, did his katas, was taken away, tortured, woke up in his cell, ate the dinner that had appeared, went to sleep. The monotonous cycle repeated itself, again and again and again.
The physical injuries meant nothing to him, even without the Force to help him heal them. In his mind he knew that the purpose of his daily beatings was not to injure him physically but mentally; to break his resolve. And, it was working. With every lick of the guard's fork-tongued vibro-whip to every silent punch in the gut or slap across the face, Obi-Wan could feel the hate and anger growing within him, and he was powerless to stop it.
Nevertheless, he soldiered now. He never reacted to the hits or the kicks or the blood that ran down his back, and he knew, somehow smugly, that he was winning. The twin guards, once impassive and unemotional, now subtly added more strength to their assaults upon him.
Obi-Wan sighed. He supposed he should eat the food.
Opening his eyes yet again to the dim light of his wonderful accommodations, he got to his feet in one fluid motion and strode three paces to the far side of his cell. Before was a tray, holding two plates of clone trooper rations, two small pitchers of water, two washcloths...
Two?
He knew that from being in here his brain functions were slightly slower, but he knew that his vision hadn't doubled. He bent down to the tray and touched the items one by one, to confirm that they were really two of each and that he hadn't inadvertently gone cross-eyed. But why the blazes would there be two of each thing if there was only-
A noise came from the wall behind him, and he turned to see a door slide open and a blinding light shine through. While his eyes adjusted, he saw through his hand a figure be shoved through, before the door closed once more. Dim light returned, and he could see once more.
His new houseguest was laying crumpled about a foot away from him, shuddering softly. Obi-Wan forgot his hunger and pain and became Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master. Reaching out a warm hand, he gently touched what he hoped was the person's shoulder.
"Hello." he said softly, surprising himself with the sound of his own voice. It was raspy and sour-sounding, from numerous days of disuse.
Two orchid eyes met his in the darkness, and he realized with a start that this was only a child, no older than five. It backed away from his touch, whimpering.
He smiled in an effort to calm the young one. "I won't hurt you, I promise." he said, moving to touch it once again. As quickly as a Coreillian waterfox, it moved to the far corner, still staring at him with violet eyes.
Obi-Wan raised his hands up, and didn't move forwards again. He paused, considering what to do. The child was afraid, to be sure. Honestly, he had no idea how exactly to interact with a child so young. So, he decided to continue with his previous plans. Dinner.
He walked back over to the tray, lifted his rations and water off of it, and sat back down, across from his new companion. Peeling the wrapper off of the first ration bar (chocolate, to be precise) he took a bite from it, all the while watching the small shape in the corner. He could see its' interest, and he knew that the poor thing must be hungry.
"It's very good, you know. Chocolate is always good." It felt nice to speak again, he thought to himself, continuing to meet the stare of his now intrigued cellmate. "Do you want some?" he asked, offering it out with his arm.
Silence. Then, slowly, the tiny ball of knotted hair and tattered clothes moved forwards, and eagerly grabbed the rest of Obi-Wan's ration bar. Together, they ate their meal, and the little one slowly, but surely, drifted closer and closer to it's adult companion.
Obi-Wan looked down at the child before him, and could see the tear tracks dried upon it's face, woven through the dirt and grime. He wet his own facecloth, and gently moved forwards, talking the whole time.
"I'm just going to clean you up a bit, young one." he said softly. To his surprise, the child didn't move. Maybe it DID know Basic.
Scrubbing at the dirt on it's face, the child didn't move, seemingly happy to be touched by a friendly hand. Obi-Wan, as he worked, remarked to himself that he hadn't done this in years, not since Anakin was twelve and went through his 'recycling' faze.
"Master," the young boy had said, as Obi-Wan wiped away the dirt on his Padawan's face, "even damaged droids can be repaired! It's just more work to clean and fix the, that's all." The boy had smiled, that gentle, kind smile that he knew his master couldn't resist.
"By cleaning, I assume you mean the transfer of all that grime to your face?" Obi-Wan had remarked, grinning despite himself.
"There." The former Jedi Master said, leaning back to see his handiwork.
The child, underneath the dirt mask that had covered her face, was a girl. A human girl, he might add, with violet eyes and pale skin. Her hair was black (at least, with the grime), and he noticed now that her tattered clothing was the remains of a once elegant dress.
"All clean now, hmm?" he said, mimicking a certain green Jedi. He gazed into her eyes, smiling. "Obi-Wan. That's my name, I mean." he said, gesturing a finger towards himself.
She smiled slightly back at him, revealing white teeth that glowed slightly in the hazy light. "Rowan." she said, pointing to herself.
"Rowan." he repeated. "A very nice name." Suddenly, he yawned, despite himself, and chuckled softly. The weariness that had dissipated in the moments of Rowan's arrival came back abruptly, and he could feel the pounding in his head return. "To sleep, I go, dear Rowan." he spoke softly, looking the little girl in the eyes. Hers met him back, mesmerizing.
He broke her stare, and crossed the two paces over to his customary sleeping zone, another uniform part of his cell. He laid down upon the floor, rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.
Not even a minute had passed before he felt a small body curl up beside him, and a tiny hand burrow itself into his own. Rowan pressed her head up against his chest, and sighed softly. Obi-Wan's body stiffened as she first lay against him, then relaxed as he became accustomed to her. Soon he heard her breathing slow into the soft, steady rhythm of sleep, and he followed only a few minutes behind.