Disclaimer: Star Wars brings in tons of money and as I have not seen a single cent of that money, I am not George Lucas and therefore don't own Star Wars. And sadly, that means I don't own Obi-Wan either.

Summary: The second story in the Jedi Trials series. Obi-Wan's been captured, Qui-Gon's left the Jedi Order, and Anakin must learn to trust his new Master. The Republic is on the brink of war and only Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Anakin can save the galaxy.

Author's Notes: An extra-long chapter! Woooo! So, um…when you read this chapter, just remember that if I die, you won't be able to have any updates. Heh. This is my last update before 2006, so Happy New Year!

Torture and Death

By Kekelina

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Chapter Sixteen: Darth Dementor

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Obi-Wan sat in a deep, dark, unpenetrable fog, his mind shut off to the world. He was numb to everything – his pain, his despair, and his very existence. For hours he stared into the darkness, thinking of nothing, feeling nothing. He ignored the rising fever, the advancing dehydration, and the sudden urges to dry heave. His body was an empty shell holding nothing inside. For all that Obi-Wan knew or cared, he wasn't even alive.

The bounty hunter had returned twice since he had made his request. Each time, in a whisper of a voice, pleading with his very soul, he had made the same request, but the bounty hunter had ignored him. Obi-Wan hadn't reacted to the blows, allowing himself to be thrown around like the flimsy doll of a child. He neglected the food set out for him, and refused to rise to anything the bounty hunter said.

He neither slept nor awoke, his mind constantly in a state of half-awareness. The environment around him was surreal, and at random moments he saw flashes of color he knew weren't really there. He didn't dare dream or think, as neither provided him with any sort of relief. He was a corpse – a corpse with a heartbeat – but he wished he didn't even have that.

Obi-Wan couldn't remember what the outside world looked like. He couldn't remember Coruscant or the Jedi Temple. He couldn't remember the warmth of the sun on his skin or the wind rushing past his face. He couldn't remember the taste of real food or what it felt like to hold a lightsaber in his hand. He couldn't remember his friend's voices or the memories they had shared together. He could barely remember their faces. But there were two people he could remember quite clearly, two names that Obi-Wan cursed, two faces that caused Obi-Wan's blood to boil:

Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker.

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Obi-Wan was dimly aware of a hand grasping his tunic, pulling him to his feet, only to beat him to the ground. He let himself feel the full impact of the blow and let the blood dribble from his mouth. He wasn't surprised the bounty hunter had returned yet again. He had been coming increasingly frequently lately.

He felt something sharp prod him in the back, tearing through the top layers of skin. Pain shot through his veins, into his heart, and out his fingertips. He groaned, the only sound his voice would let him make, and shuddered as the sharp object continued cutting through his skin, deeper and deeper. A trickle of warmth trailed down the small of Obi-Wan's back.

"Enough," a sharp voice commanded, and the object lodged very close to Obi-Wan's spine was instantly removed. A grateful sigh escaped Obi-Wan's parched lips. "Leave us," the voice commanded again.

Cold, rough fingers grasped Obi-Wan's face and lifted his chest off the ground. A pair of evil eyes stared at him, filled with suspicion, and a dark presence began to probe his mind aggressively.

"Pal…Palpatine," Obi-Wan whispered, his jaw held firmly by the Dark Lord's hand. He struggled against the grip, but it only grew tighter, and Obi-Wan, too weak to fight, was unable to break free from its clutches.

"Yes, my pathetic friend, it is I," Palpatine said with a chilling chuckle. His presence left Obi-Wan's mind and the cold hand let go of his face, dropping him to the ground. Obi-Wan grunted at the sudden pain, but did not move from the position he had fallen in, his head resting on the stone floor, facing the Sith Lord.

"Kill me," Obi-Wan begged the Chancellor, the same request he had asked of the bounty hunter many times before. "You want me dead, so do it." He looked the Sith Lord in the eye not with anger, nor fear, but only cold, hard resolution. "Do it now!" he commanded in a harsh, hoarse voice.

Palpatine gave a sigh and shook his head, pasting a weak smile on his thin lips. "I don't want to harm you, my young friend," he said, his voice sickeningly sweet. "I want to help you."

Obi-Wan gazed at him uncertainly, but said not a word, his body starting to shake. He took a rattling breath. Help was such an unfamiliar word to him now. In the beginning days of his capture, he had begged for help, for someone to come and rescue him. However, when he realized that no one was coming – that no one cared about him – help became a foreign word to him, just as hope had.

"I see your pain, Obi-Wan. I see your suffering. It doesn't have to be like this," Palpatine continued.

"W-what do you…mean?"

"I can end your pain. I can take away your torment," Palpatine said softly. "With just a word I can get you out of this disgusting hole. I can save you," he added with an edge of darkness.

Obi-Wan was at a loss for words. Palpatine had said he could save him. He wouldn't be beaten everyday. He wouldn't be starved to near death. His wounds would be healed. He would be able to see the stars again, breathe fresh air, feel the warmth of suns. He would be free. But Palpatine was a Sith, a deep corner of his mind reminded him. He had brought him here in the first place. He had ordered that he be beaten, ordered that he be starved. None of this made any sense…

"That is because you have been lied to, Obi-Wan," Palpatine replied, reading his thoughts. "I did not bring you here. The Jedi brought you here," he said gravelly. "They sent you on this mission, told you to find the assassin." The words dripped from his lips, and Obi-Wan caught every one of them. "They told the bounty hunter where to find you; they convinced your friend to betray you. They abandoned you on this rock of a planet. They left you to be tortured to death.

"Oh, they knew where you were, I assure you, but they wanted to get rid of you. You were a kink in their plans. Why do you think you were pushed into Knighthood early? Why do you think your Master wanted to get rid of you so badly?" Obi-Wan's blood froze at the mention of Qui-Gon. Part of his mind screamed at him to ignore all Palpatine's words, but the Sith was only confirming what Obi-Wan himself believed to be true. How could he ignore the truth?

"The Jedi had known about the Chosen One for a long time. They had it all planned out. Qui-Gon would take the child after he finished your training, and the boy would become the most powerful Jedi ever. But your training took too long, and Qui-Gon became tired of waiting. They decided it was time to make you a Knight so they could fulfill their precious prophecy.

"But they sensed your jealousy; knew you were a threat to young Skywalker. They decided the only way to get rid of the threat to their Chosen One was to have you destroyed. Without you, their plans would continue as normal, and you would not be in the way any longer."

"H-How do you…know all – all this," Obi-Wan asked, heartbroken. Even during the darkest days of his capture, he had still thought of the Jedi as his family. He had still hoped – yes, hoped – that someone would take notice of his absence and send a search team to look for him. But what Palpatine was saying, what he was telling him, was that his entire capture had been set up by the Jedi – that they had wanted him to die. Had anyone every truly cared about him? Had his entire life been filled with lies and deceit? Was that what the Jedi Order truly was?

"A Sith sees many things from behind the shadows, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan digested the words slowly, tears forming in his eyes. Everything he had thought he had ever known – all his friends, his Master, the people he had called his family – had betrayed him and left him for dead in a rock cell. And he had believed every single one of their kriffing lies.

"Join me, Obi-Wan," Palpatine offered once again, "and you will not have to suffer at the hands of the Jedi. No," he said in thought. "They will suffer at your hands. You will destroy all those that ever hurt you, and we will show them the true power of the dark side. Their precious Chosen One will be no match for you."

The words bounced in Obi-Wan's head. The Jedi betrayed him, left him for dead. Palpatine could save him, help him seek revenge on the Jedi. On Anakin. On Qui-Gon. There was no thought needed to make this decision.

"I will join you."

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Pain exploded through Qui-Gon's mind. He stumbled, struggling to stay on his feet. He leaned on a wall to support him. His breaths came at a rapid pace, and he slid down the wall as tears flooded his eyes.

The bond had snapped.

"My son…"

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Palpatine gave a grim smile beneath his hood. "Kneel, my new apprentice."

The new Sith struggled to his knees, wincing in pain, and stared back at his new Master firmly and with new determination. All thoughts of hopelessness fled from his mind. For the first time in his life, he had a very good feeling about this.

"Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth Dementor."

Newly-christened Darth Dementor bowed his head to his new Master. "Thank you…my Lord." The time spent on his knees began to make him dizzy, and he struggled to remain in that position. The room spun in all directions, and his focus on Palpatine began to slip. Distantly, as the dizziness grew worse, Dementor heard him calling the bounty hunter on his comlink.

The room spun rapidly, and Dementor was forced to his hands and knees. He saw the blurred form of the bounty hunter at the doorway, framed in the ethereal light, and he heard his Master hiss a command.

"Get him into the bacta tank immediately."

"Yes, my Lord."

Dementor's vision was consumed by darkness for the last time.

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When Dementor opened his eyes again, all he could see was white. The brightness of it burned his eyes, and he squirmed underneath its power. His eyes blinked rapidly, forming tears, as his pupils tried to adjust from darkness to sudden light.

Was he dead? No, his brain answered automatically. He was lying on something – something soft – and he heard a rhythmic beeping that had grown increasingly faster since he had awoke. The light began to dim, and he was able to make out his surroundings. He was lying on a cot, in what appeared to be a med center. He saw the holographic heart monitor and other things filled with numbers and words that he did not understand.

Where was he? Why wasn't he in his cell? Suddenly, images of recent events zoomed through his mind, and a sudden anger grew in him as he remembered all that Palpatine had revealed to him. He knew where he was now. But where was his Master?

Testing a few muscles, he found that he felt no pain. He glanced at his arm and felt it with his fingertips, but the infected wound from the blaster was gone, with not even a scar left in its place. How long had he been in the bacta tank? His injuries had been severe (no thanks to the Jedi, he thought angrily), and although bacta was powerful, it would still take many days to be completely healed like Dementor had.

Tired of lying in a bed without any answers, he removed the oxygen mask from his face and sat up slowly to get a better view of his surroundings. It was indeed a med center as he had thought, filled with many instruments and gadgets that made Dementor remember why he hated med centers so much. Off to his left were two doors, one that he assumed led to outside and the other probably to the refresher.

Next to his cot sat a small durasteel table with a black bundle resting on top of it. He reached over to the bundle and found it to be robes, similar to his Jedi ones, but the color of the darkness he had lived in for so long. Lying next to the robes was a lightsaber. His heart clenched when he saw it, and he hesitantly picked it up, reveling in the feel of it in his hand. It wasn't his old one, but a newly constructed one, just waiting to be used. He found the activation button with ease and ignited the blade with a snap-hiss. His eyes gazed at the crimson blade, mesmerized by it. He felt the energy pulsing from it, and gripped the hilt tighter, allowing his hand to fuse with the smooth cylinder. This was his weapon – his weapon – and he would not be so foolish as to lose his lightsaber again. He was not a blundering idiot Jedi anymore.

Still no sign of his Master or even a droid who could tell him where he might find his Master, he picked up the robes and decided to change. It was while he was changing that he spotted his reflection in a medical instrument and almost died of shock. Staring back at him was a clean-shaven man, his auburn hair cut to the length of a Padawan's and his beard completely gone. His hands immediately felt his face, thinking that he had seen wrong, only to find out that the reflection was true.

He looked like he had when he was a Padawan.

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Anakin stood solemnly next to his Master, gazing at the flames licking the funeral pyre in respect. The Council, after over three months of searching, had declared Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi one with the Force.

When his Master had heard the news from Knight Muln, she had collapsed on the couch in their shared quarters, tears streaming down her face. Anakin had tried his best to comfort her, but comfort had never been his strong suit. He wished he could tell her that it would be all right, that the grief would pass in time. He knew it would get easier. But the words he had felt in his heart would not come. Instead, he had stayed out of the way and let the two friends grieve together.

Anakin himself had felt no grief over the Knight's death, but he had felt a sense of sadness. From what he had heard from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had been a good apprentice and a fine Jedi. Anakin hadn't known him well enough to know his personality, but he had remembered the dark looks Kenobi had shot him whenever Anakin and Qui-Gon had stopped to talk to him – which wasn't very often.

But Anakin had very little room to judge the well-loved Knight, so he stood respectfully and sorrowfully next to his Master as the Jedi burned Knight Kenobi's few possessions as a last goodbye to the Jedi Knight.

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The Other Author's Notes: Well, the deed is done. Congrats to all who guessed that Obi-Wan would turn to the dark side. Don't forget to review!

Author's Edit: 8-21-2007