Author: TemporaryUnivese
WC: 3,834 (7,284 Total)

A.N. Please note that this fic uses the star wars calendar (galactic standard calendar) for the in universe timeline. GSC uses a 10 month calendar, with 7 weeks per month, and 5 days per week. There are also an additional 3 fete weeks in the year, but those don't really come up. Sorry if that's confusing to anyone, I'm too much of a nerdy immersivist to use the irl one.

TW: graphic violence, torture

They dragged him down the halls and into another room, where he was strung up by his wrists, the braces on his legs still disabled and refusing to hold his weight.

Sidious started simple. An electrowhip, lash after lash splitting the skin of his back and attacking his nerves with currents of electricity. He stayed silent, biting his tongue to keep himself quiet, but after the fifteenth line of burning pain carved down his back, he couldn't contain the noises any longer. A strangled cry crawled out of his throat and the onslaught paused.

"Had enough already, Kenobi?"

"Is this supposed to make me want to join you?" He panted and then gave another cry as the whip caught him in the shoulder.

"Suffering leads to the Dark Side, isn't that what the Jedi taught? You will suffer, and when you can no longer stand to suffer, you will embrace the Dark."

"I will tell you what I told Maul, then. Only the weak embrace the Dark Side."

"Do you think me weak?" He said it casually, but then, Obi-Wan was quickly learning how dangerous that particular tone was. Trap, his instincts whispered. One that he didn't know how to avoid.

"Perhaps not in physical power, but weakness of the spirit is the greater flaw. The Sith lack control over their emotions, allowing themselves to be puppeteered by the Dark Side."

"And I suppose my lack of control is what allowed the Sith to go undetected for millennia. What allowed me to hide under the Jedi's noses for years, while you were so arrogant in your blindness. You did not see me, not until it was too late."

Obi-Wan's words failed him. Because Sidious was right. He had been blind, and it had cost him everything.

He could hear the victorious smile in Sidious' voice as he spoke once more.

"Shall we test how strong your spirit is, Obi-Wan?"

With that, he swung the whip again.

The first day, Sidious whipped him until he passed out. The second, he used a knife, an actual dead steel blade and not a vibroblade, carving into flesh with precise brutality. The third, he flayed his skin and pulled his nails out. The fourth… he dug into him with the Force, Obi-Wan could feel it under his skin, plucking at his nerves, pulling him apart from the inside, the Darkness reaching into him and playing with sinew and bone until he went hoarse from all the screaming.

Sidious tried to enter his mind, but he managed to keep him out, building his shields as thick and impenetrable as he could make them. Unless the Sith wanted to destroy his sanity, he wasn't getting in.

By the end of the first week, he was exhausted and in constant pain, his body, the upper half at least, because he could feel no pain in the lower half, covered in new scars. When he reached for the Force to ease his aches, he found only a swirling Darkness, the energy of the galaxy wailing with pain and grief, mourning the decimation of the Light. There was no calm to be had, no peace, and so he could not find healing either.

The torture continued, Sidious doing his best to tear him apart and Obi-Wan doing his best to resist him. Every day, a trooper would come in, Cody, most of the time, to feed him a thin nutrient liquid, clean up the mess his bodily functions had made, and treat some of his wounds. His braces and clothes had been removed leaving him to lie helplessly on the cold floor, until Sidious came back and they hung him up again to inflict more pain.

It was… he would rather have death. Maybe instead of dying, this was his punishment for killing Anakin. He was to suffer for eternity instead.

On the tenth day, Sidious entered, and Obi-Wan sensed that something would be different. He tried to push down his worry, but it only grew the longer the Sith stood there, watching him silently.

"Are we going to get started? Or do you think your staring will push me to the Dark Side," Obi-Wan said.

Sidious smiled and circled around behind him. The back of his neck itched, his shoulders tensing as he lost sight of his tormentor.

"Have you ever heard the Sith Code?"

"I'm sure you're eager to enlighten me." He twitched as a cold finger trailed down his spine.

"Peace is a lie. There is only passion." Sidious continued to slowly trace fingers up and down his back in a distracting pattern. His discomfort grew with each moment. He stared straight ahead, refusing to react. "Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken." The hand dropped away. "The Force shall free me."

"An interesting philosophy. Not one I care for." It was remarkably similar in tone to the Jedi Code, although the message was completely opposite.

"I have an offer for you. Repeat the first line for me, and this ends. You are sent to the medics and then return to your room."

So that was how it was going to be. Very well.

"There is no emotion, there is peace." He barely got the last word out before his body lit up with pain, electricity arcing through his muscles, making them seize, forking through his veins, his nerves on fire, rattling his bones. His vision was sparking black and white, eyes feeling as though they would burst from his head. He screamed and kept screaming as the agony went on and on, endless and inescapable.

It lasted seconds, minutes, hours, he didn't know how long all he knew was the pain.

And then it stopped.

He shook and gasped desperately for air, muscles twitching with the aftershocks.

"Try again."

"There is no emotion," he rasped. "There is peace."

The lightning hit him again, slamming into him with the force of a speeder, blasting all coherent thought right out of his head.

He'd been electrocuted before—too often, according to his medics—enough times that he could easily recall exactly how it felt, the sharp, stabbing, burning bolts of agony that raced through his body and stole away his breath.

This was not that. This was worse. If shock collars and prods were dipping his toes into a river, Sith lightning was drowning in the deepest part of an ocean. The pain a thousand times more intense. Agony wasn't a strong enough word to describe it. It ripped him apart, leaving scorched trails in its wake, burrowing into his flesh like thousands of knives.

It stopped. He slumped in his bonds, his lungs heaving.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge," he continued when he could speak.

"There is no—" Sidious struck again and the pain tore through him. "No passion." Again. "There is serenity."

He screamed, it felt like he was on fire, and he couldn't think.

"There is no… chaos."

Pain. Utter agony.

"There is… there is…" What was there?

There was…

"Harmony."

Pain.

"There is no…" What came next?

"Peace is a lie," a voice hissed in his ear.

"No peace." No, that wasn't right.

Pain.

"Peace." What was…?

Peace.

Pain.

"Peace is a lie."

Peace was…

Wasn't…

He didn't…

There was?

What?

"Peace."

Pain.

Peace was important, but…

Why?

Peace.

"Peace is a lie."

"Peace is…"

Pain.

He needed to…

Remember.

Couldn't…

"Peace is a lie."

"Peace… is a lie."

The pain… stopped.

His heart pounded.

Loud.

Hard enough to hurt his ribs.

He was shaking.

His breath stuttered, off-rhythm.

Peace.

There was…

Fingers in his hair.

His head tipped back.

A blurry grin on a warped face.

He couldn't…

"That wasn't so hard now, was it, Obi-Wan?"

What was…?

He didn't understand.

His entire body ached down to his bones and his muscles twitched uncontrollably, not responding to his commands.

He whimpered.

The hand in his hair let go, and his head fell forward, chin touching his chest. He let it rest there, too exhausted to raise it again.

The bindings around his wrists released and he crashed to the ground in a moaning heap and lay there, unmoving. His entire body felt like a lump of overworked metal, one hit away from shattering into pieces.

His awareness drifted, and then faded out altogether.

He woke to the acrid smell of bacta and antiseptics and grimaced. He hated med centers, and the past few months hadn't endeared them to him at all.

2-1B-95 whirred over to him, noticing that he had stirred.

"Patient Obi-Wan, please remain still while I examine you," the droid droned.

Obi-Wan sighed.

"It's not like I'm going anywhere, 2-1B-95. Don't have my legs."

"If you let me examine you, I will go retrieve them."

"Fine." He surrendered to 2-1B-95's exam, not protesting while the droid checked his vitals, blood assays, and nerve function. He noticed he had plenty of new scars, it had been too long without treatment for bacta to erase them entirely. He ran a finger along one on his arm, from where a knife had carved into his skin, feeling the raised, puckered edges.

Finally, the med droid went to get him new clothes, still black, but less tunic-like than the previous ones, and his prostheses. Reattaching them hurt as it always did, but after the past two weeks, he barely felt it. 2-1B-95 had him walk a couple of laps of the room to get used to them again. He felt weak and unsteady, but he supposed that was to be expected after all the trauma his body had been through.

The memory was hazy, but Obi-Wan knew what he had said. It hadn't exactly been voluntary, it wasn't like he was thinking straight when he was driven nearly unconscious by Sith lightning, but the thought of it almost made him ill. He could only hope that was the last time he slipped up.

An hour later, the troopers came for him.

They bound his hands, then led him through unfamiliar hallways to a hangar and directed him into one of the speeders. He worried the edge of his sleeve, trying to ground himself against the anxiety of not knowing what was happening. It only grew as he was driven through the streets of Coruscant, and he kept glancing out the window to figure out where they were.

"Where are we going?" He finally asked. No one answered him.

Another look out the window told him the answer. The Temple loomed before them and for the second time in his life, Obi-Wan felt dread approaching it.

"Why are we going to the Temple?"

"Orders are to move you to the Imperial Palace," someone finally responded.

"Imperial—" He was going to be sick. Was that what Sidious had been doing? Rebuilding the Jedi Temple into the heart of the Empire? Desecrating his home?

The speeder parked in one of the northern hangars. He didn't move to get out, fear freezing him in place. He didn't want to see what had been done to the Temple to make it fit for Imperial occupation. He didn't want to enter into it, didn't want to see it devoid of life, no Jedi walking its halls, Masters and Padawans, Initiates and Younglings. They were all dead. He'd seen their bodies littering the floors.

He didn't know what had been done with them. He doubted that his brethren had gotten proper funerals.

Even the hangar reeked of death in the Force.

One of his guards prodded him.

"Out."

He took a deep breath to center himself. He couldn't let fear control him. He got out of the speeder.

His guards escorted him through the Temple and it seemed in every corner he looked he could see them, the corpses. Then he blinked and they were gone. He kept his eyes resolutely ahead, not daring to look. He didn't even notice where they were going until they were there. It was the residence wing, more specifically the Knight's quarters.

They stopped in front of apartment C3243. A trooper removed his binders and practically shoved him in.

The door shut behind him and he glanced around at what looked like a typical Knight's apartment: small sitting room, smaller kitchenette, and two doors for the fresher and bedroom. Simple but comfortable.

"Obi-Wan!"

He turned to see someone coming out of the bedroom.

"Padmé," he breathed. There was a confusing mix of relief and dread in his gut. He had hoped she would be far away from here, away from the grasp of Sidious. "You're okay."

"I wasn't sure what happened to you," she said, coming in to give him a hug. They separated and she looked him over. "What did happen to you?"

"An—Vader and I fought. I was… injured. Paralyzed. But now Sidious is in need of a new apprentice, and he wants me." Why the Sith had decided on him though, he didn't know.

"Then Anakin…"

"I'm sorry." He squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head. "I—I had no choice. He's… one with the Force, now." He hoped. Did Sith join the Force when they died? He couldn't bear to think that Anakin wouldn't.

"They told me…" she said, her voice thick, "But I didn't want to believe it. Obi-Wan, why would he…?"

"The Dark Side is dangerous. It promises you power, but that power comes at a cost. It corrupts. It makes you selfish. Blinds you. You start to think you have no choices, that everyone is against you." He wished he had a better answer for her, something other than Jedi maxims, but he struggled himself to comprehend what Anakin had done. It had all seemed to go wrong so quickly. Before Utapau, Anakin had been… not fine, none of them were fine, but he didn't seem close to the edge when they had last talked. He hadn't seemed—

There was a wail from the bedroom and Obi-Wan blinked.

"…Was that?"

Padmé smiled, and Obi-Wan realized her stomach was much flatter than it had been the last time he saw her.

"Obi-Wan, would you like to meet them?"

"Them? There's more than one?" He asked in wonder.

"Twins. Luke and Leia." She showed him into the bedroom and over to the cribs. One of the babies was crying, waving their little fists in the air. They were smaller than he expected, but it had been a while since he'd seen children this young. The war hadn't left much time for visiting the créche. "Go ahead," Padmé said.

He carefully scooped the crying child up, cradling their head in the crook of his elbow.

"Hello, little one." The baby continued to wail and he gently shushed them, bouncing them a bit.

"That's Leia." Padmé picked up the other one, Luke. "She's very fussy. I'm lucky Luke isn't."

Obi-Wan couldn't keep his eyes off her. He reached out in the Force tentatively and felt his breath hitch as he came into contact with the bright, pure Light of Leia and Luke's presences. He'd had nothing but darkness in his life for so long now. Leia stopped crying and her bright eyes peered up at him, her hand coming up to grasp at his overgrown beard. He summoned up comfort and peace and tenderly wrapped her up in it. She gurgled a little bit, making him smile.

"How did you…?" Padmé asked. "I can never get her to settle."

"They're Force-Sensitive. Very sensitive. She's curious about me." She was instinctively poking at him in the Force, trying to connect with him, and he gently turned her aside. He couldn't afford to form a bond with a youngling right now, not when they would feel his pain.

"I thought they might be. With Anakin being… And when we first got here, they both cried for three days straight."

"The Temple… many Jedi died here. It leaves an imprint. They can probably sense it." Two unshielded minds would be vulnerable to the death and pain the attack on the Temple left behind. Obi-Wan, trained and shielded against such things, had been nearly crushed by it, he couldn't imagine how the babies had felt.

"Oh." Padmé looked stricken. "I didn't… I didn't think…" Luke whined a little bit and Obi-Wan soothed him in the Force, protecting him from his mother's heightened emotions. "Are they really all dead?"

"Yoda is alive, maybe, if Sidious is lying to me. If there are others, I can't feel them. It's… dark, Padmé. I used to be able to reach out and know they were there. Thousands of lights across the galaxy. Now, there's nothing." As far back as he could remember, he had always been able to feel the Jedi, he had never truly been alone. That they were all gone was hard to comprehend.

"I'm sorry," she said.

It was Leia's turn to whine and squirm in his arms and he quickly took a deep breath and released his emotions into the Force. She quieted again.

"How do I help them? I don't have the Force." Obi-Wan glanced up at her.

"Non-Sensitives can learn to control their emotional projection. You can hide your negative emotions from them and surround them with positive ones. I'll teach you."

"Thank you."

They spent the next hour practicing. Padmé learned quickly how to shield and project in turn. Obi-Wan kept marveling at the twins, falling in love with them far too easily. Anakin's children.

It was terrifying to realize that he would do almost anything for them. And it wasn't hard to figure out why Sidious was allowing him to visit. Padmé, Luke, and Leia were hostages. If he wanted to make Obi-Wan Fall, there was no better incentive.

He shuddered to think what Sidious' plans were for them once Obi-Wan had either Fallen or died. He feared that the Sith would want to corrupt them the same way he corrupted Anakin.

The door opened.

"Your visit is over. Come with me," the trooper—Cody, it was Cody—ordered. Obi-Wan sighed and carefully transferred Luke over to his mother.

"Stay safe, Padmé." Her warm brown eyes met his. He could see her fear. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan," she called as he walked away.

"And with you," he replied, taking one last look at the Skywalker family.

"Hurry it up," Cody said gruffly. He ushered Obi-Wan out into the hallway, far more aggressively than Obi-Wan thought was necessary. He was complying, wasn't he?

His escort led him again through the halls, this time to the Master-Padawan residences. He realized where they were going once they got to the intended floor and nearly stopped in his tracks.

"Keep moving," one of the troopers behind him barked. He swallowed and forced his feet to continue on. They reached the familiar door and he noted absently that someone had removed the placard that spelled out the names of the occupants. He took a deep breath and entered.

The room had been trashed, as if an angry whirlwind with a lightsaber had been set upon it. Obi-Wan stood there for a moment, taking in the destruction, sorrow and disbelief churning in his stomach.

The pale green couch that had been there for a decade had a slash through it that nearly cut it in half. The cushions were ripped open, stuffing spilling out onto the floor. One of the chairs, the one that had been Qui-Gon's favorite, had been sliced in half. The newer chair, the one that had been a replacement halfway through his Padawan's apprenticeship due to an unfortunate lightsaber incident, was toppled, missing two of its legs. Ahsoka's thick, colorful blanket was nothing but scraps. The low, heavily worn table had been smashed against the wall.

The kitchenette at the back of the room had its cabinets torn open, pots spilling out of them, dishes, including Qui-Gon's old ceremonial teapot, shattered on the floor.

The plants that were dotted about the room, on counters, tables, and the windowsill, had all been knocked to the ground, pots broken, dirt spilled everywhere. Obi-Wan moved cautiously forward, stepping over a fallen lamp. He picked his way across to the bedrooms. Anakin's was also torn apart, droid parts and tools scattered all over, as if he had been looking for something. Obi-Wan left it alone.

His own room was untouched. The only thing out of place was displayed prominently on his desk. The riverstone. The one Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan had in turn given to Anakin, was nothing but a pile of rocky fragments.

He reached out and brushed the largest piece with a finger. He didn't have a talent in psychometry, but he had always been able to feel warmth from the stone, and it had a lingering sense of Qui-Gon about it when he'd first received it. He'd been convinced it was Force-sensitive when he was younger, but whether that was true, or it had just been used as a meditation focus for so long that it retained emotion easily, was still unknown to him. Whatever it was, it had always been a comfort to him, and he'd gifted it to Anakin with the hope that it would do the same for him.

But now… as soon as he touched it, he was struck by how cold it was, all he could feel was anger and hatred. He gasped and jerked his hand away and the emotion faded.

The message of it was clear. Anakin hadn't needed to destroy their rooms, or the riverstone. There was no point to it, no reason he would have had to assume Obi-Wan would return here. And Obi-Wan doubted that one of the rituals to become a Sith Apprentice was trashing furniture.

Anakin had done this because he wanted to. Because he was angry. At Obi-Wan specifically, and he wanted to eradicate the symbols of their connection. If Obi-Wan hadn't been convinced of it by his massacre of the Jedi, this would be what told him Anakin was lost. There had been no saving him, not by Obi-Wan, anyway.

Resentment like this wasn't born overnight. It had to have been festering a long time. How had Obi-Wan not seen it?

He had, he realized. He'd seen glimpses of it over the years, Anakin's anger at him. Anakin hadn't been shy about telling him, especially once he was a Knight. Obi-Wan had just written it off. Made excuses. Ignored how Anakin had needed his help.

And then when it all came down to it… he had murdered him. His own brother. The boy he had promised to raise, who he taught everything he knew and loved as much as it was possible to love someone, had been slain by his hand.

Anakin had committed a terrible crime, had become a monster, but if it was Obi-Wan's failings that led him there, what did that make Obi-Wan?

Thank you for reading!