Author: TemporaryUniverse
Character(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn
Summary: Captured by mercenaries seeking information on the Senator Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were sent to protect, the master learns what helplessness feels like as he is forced to watch the torture of his padawan. Can Obi-Wan hold out long enough for rescue?
Word count: 2037
A.N. I did my best with Dai Bendu, but despite being a linguistics student, I'm surprisingly awful at languages. You can find more about Dai Bendu, which was created by loosingletters, ghostwriterofthemachine, and aroacejoot, over at Pragmatics of the Jedi on Ao3. All credit goes to them, I had a lot of fun with the conlang and I hope my translations are correct.
Obi-Wan thudded to the floor and the cell door slammed shut behind him. Qui-Gon's padawan groaned as he struggled to sit up, one hand clutching his side.
"Jaieh?"
"Right here, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. Chained and Force-blind as he was, he could only watch helplessly as Obi-Wan dragged himself over and slumped against the wall. He scanned the thirteen-year-old for injury but, just as before, found none. Whatever torture their captors performed left no visible mark and Qui-Gon ached to think about what horrors were being inflicted on his padawan. They'd had him for an hour, and if their schedule remained consistent, they would be back in another three to take him away again. Unless, of course, the jedi could escape before then.
Qui-Gon scooted forward until he was at the limit of the chain around his neck, enough so that Obi-Wan could reach his hands where they were shackled behind his back. The padawan set to work with the thin piece of metal he'd found earlier, attempting to pry open the cuffs and disable them. Qui-Gon felt him fumble, the metal screeching in his ears as it scraped together.
"Tiv," Obi-Wan whispered. It echoed unnaturally off the walls of their small cell. When Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder at him, Obi-Wan's face was set in concentration, focused entirely on his task.
They didn't talk, though questions crowded Qui-Gon's thoughts, the kinds of questions that would hurt to hear the answers to. He didn't ask any of them.
Obi-Wan's fingers slipped again, and he made a quiet frustrated noise.
"Keep trying, you'll get it," Qui-Gon said.
It was a testament to how anxious he was that Obi-Wan didn't throw Yoda's maxim back at him. He'd become more and more withdrawn each time they took him away, until he barely said anything at all.
Quietness wasn't unusual for Qui-Gon's padawan, Obi-Wan was always thoughtful in his speech, he didn't talk just to fill the silence. But there was something wrong with the current one, something… imtonbrei about it. Like Obi-Wan could say nothing, rather than simply having nothing to say.
Wetness brushed against Qui-Gon's wrist and he frowned, puzzled. There was a clink as Obi-Wan dropped the shard of metal and then scuffing as he chased after it. He returned to picking at the cuffs and Qui-Gon returned to contemplating his padawan.
They had been together for not quite a year, a year filled with pitfalls and misunderstandings on Bandomeer and Melida/Daan and Telos, but also moments of harmony, moments where Qui-Gon thought maybe we'll make it. When Obi-Wan would complete his katas without a single misstep and beam at his master's praise. When Obi-Wan would make them both tea in the mornings before he had to run off to class, and would put a single spoonful of honey in his own except for when they had tarine, which he always complained was too sweet. When Tahl would visit and Obi-Wan would persuade her to tell him stories of her and Qui-Gon when they were younger over Qui-Gon's protests. When Qui-Gon would look at his padawan and see not the past, but a bright, young jedi with enough compassion in his heart for the whole galaxy.
Qui-Gon could not imagine his life without Obi-Wan.
This time when he slipped, Obi-Wan made a pained sound and Qui-Gon realized—
"Stop. Obi-Wan, stop." Obi-Wan ignored him. "Cadeo," he snapped, jerking himself around to face his padawan to find Obi-Wan gazing at him with wide eyes and bloody fingers. "Oh, padawan."
Obi-Wan's shoulders drifted towards his ears and he ducked his head. Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, to hold him close and tell him it was going to be okay. But he could do neither. His hands were bound and whatever promises he might make would be empty. He could not protect his apprentice from the mercenaries holding them captive because he would not give up the information they wanted and put others in danger.
Never had he felt so helpless.
"This isn't working. We'll try again later."
"Ji…"
"We have time. Calia. I'll wake you in an hour." Obi-Wan looked down at the scrap in his hand, curling his wounded fingers around the sharp edges before he nodded, then leaned against the wall and obediently closed his eyes. With nothing better to do, Qui-Gon watched his breathing even out, the gentle rise and fall of his chest proof that life still held him. Proof that he was failing, but had not yet failed. As long as Obi-Wan kept breathing, Qui-Gon would as well. He sighed, tilting his head back against the wall, keeping his eyes on his padawan, an irrational fear gripping his heart that if he looked away, even for a moment, Obi-Wan would disappear.
The hour passed slowly, Qui-Gon doing his best to meditate without the calming presence of the Force. Obi-Wan lifted his head immediately when Qui-Gon went to wake him, making him suspect the boy had not actually fallen asleep.
Now that the blood on his fingers had dried, Obi-Wan went back to attacking the cuffs, not one to give up. He worked silently and determinedly until Qui-Gon heard a snap and Obi-Wan froze. For a moment, Qui-Gon thought he'd done it, but the binders remained latched when he tried to pull his hands apart.
Qui-Gon turned to see and found his padawan staring blankly down at the palm of his trembling hand and the broken halves of the piece of metal he held, now too small to be useable. Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the cell and Obi-Wan hurriedly hid the worthless shards away and when he looked up at Qui-Gon, there was a veiled terror in his eyes. Qui-Gon's heart dropped through the floor.
"Padawan—"
With a beep, the door slid open, admitting their captors. The taller of the two, a Human with dark hair and excessively broad shoulders, crossed the room in a single stride and yanked Obi-Wan to his feet. The second mercenary, a Duros with the greyest skin Qui-Gon had ever seen, quickly pulled out a hypospray and Obi-Wan grimaced as they injected what was likely a Force-suppressant. The first dose had been administered hours before, when they were caught, and was wearing off.
The man holding Obi-Wan glanced over at Qui-Gon and raised an eyebrow.
"You ready to give me what I want?"
"Keelel im aunji boteh nak cosu'ak!" Obi-Wan spat, the most animated he had been since they'd found themselves in this cell.
"Speak basic, you stupid kid."
"Shet." Obi-Wan raised his chin defiantly, glaring at the mercenary. What in the Corellian Hells was he doing? Why was he antagonizing them? "Jaieh, paikawa'ah keel fahk."
The man grabbed his throat and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there. Obi-Wan fought and kicked at his shins until the backhand smacked his head to the side. Qui-Gon clenched his jaw. Obi-Wan had said to trust him, so he would, even though staying quiet went against his instincts.
"Listen here, kid," the man growled. "You think what we do hurts right now? I promise, it can get so much worse. And I'm going to enjoy it."
The padawan only intensified his glare.
"Let's go," he said, pulling Obi-Wan with him. The Duros followed him out and turned to key the door shut, only to pause, their hand hovering over the lockpad.
"Wait," they said, pulling another hypo out of their pocket. "I almost forgot."
Obi-Wan stopped struggling, his mouth thinning as he watched the injection of the drug into Qui-Gon's neck. Qui-Gon knew then what his padawan had been trying to do and grieved the pain his sacrifice would put him through. All for nothing. The door slid shut and his last glimpse of Obi-Wan was him stumbling as he was shoved down the corridor.
They brought him back an hour later, tossing him through the door like a sack of tubers. Obi-Wan coughed, folding in on himself, curling onto his side as he whispered something almost too soft for Qui-Gon to hear.
"Tonbrei enoah foh midaial," he repeated, over and over. "Tonbrei enoah foh midaial. Tonbrei enoah foh midaial."
He flinched when Qui-Gon called his name.
"Tamah foh orhma," he said hoarsely, though he remained crumpled on the cold, hard ground. Qui-Gon didn't believe him for a second. His padawan had always had a habit of understating or even outright lying about his health because he didn't want his master to worry. Which was ridiculous. Qui-Gon was always going to worry. He'd been worrying about Obi-Wan even before the boy was his padawan.
"Padawan, taweju."
Obi-Wan just shook his head and turned to press his forehead into the floor, his shoulders shuddering as he fought off tears.
"Jaieh," he said, nearly a whimper, "tamah foh brok."
"Come here." Qui-Gon couldn't put his arms around his padawan the way he wanted, but he could still hold him close. Couldn't reach for him physically, but reached with his eyes, his voice, his heart, and prayed. Not one to disobey, Obi-Wan went, but he did so tentatively, slowly crawling the short distance and stopping a hands-length away. Obi-Wan's hesitation to seek comfort made something unpleasant twist in Qui-Gon's chest.
"It's alright, Obi-Wan," he encouraged. "Bika."
His eyes teary and red, Obi-Wan looked up at him and he tried to project reassurance. It must have worked, because his padawan practically fell onto him, curling up on his lap and burrowing into his chest. Qui-Gon tucked his head underneath his chin, pressing a kiss to the auburn hair, and began to hum softly, a gentle lullaby he had learned when he was a child.
The tension leeched out of Obi-Wan with each note until eventually he relaxed enough to fall asleep. Qui-Gon followed him soon after.
He woke to Obi-Wan being ripped away from him.
"Don't!" Qui-Gon cried once he realized what was happening. He strained against his bindings, felt them dig into his wrists, drawing blood. "Leave him, please! Don't hurt him!"
"You can make this stop," the man said, smiling, and Qui-Gon was going to tear it off his face. "Just tell me the location of the Senator." He shook Obi-Wan lightly, and the padawan whined as his head lolled but didn't otherwise react, his expression vacant.
Qui-Gon clenched his jaw and stayed silent, the tension traveling down his spine. He couldn't take his eyes off his apprentice, held up almost entirely by the man's grip on him. Jedi didn't hate, so he told himself that the sucking, bottomless pit of black emotion in his chest could not be hate. He did not hate himself for his inaction, nor did he hate the Code which made him choose a politician over his clever, stubborn, incredible apprentice, nor did he hate the cruel beings who enjoyed torturing a child.
They dragged Obi-Wan away, leaving Qui-Gon with nothing but his not-hatred and the silence.
The next time they dropped Obi-Wan in the cell, he didn't get up, didn't respond at all, even when Qui-Gon pleaded with him until he was hoarse. The only sign he was still alive was the rhythmic motion of his breathing.
He hadn't moved by the time they came back. The Human captor slung the padawan's limp body over his shoulder.
"Please. You're killing him," Qui-Gon couldn't help but beg.
"And who's fault is that?" The harsh words and steely eyes sliced into him, tearing at his heart, and then they were gone.
The door slid open, and for once it wasn't the mercenaries on the other side. The purple glow was a welcome sight.
"Mace," Qui-Gon sighed, dizzy from the strength of his relief.
His rescuer wasted no time in crossing the cell and tearing the chains apart with the Force.
"When are you going to stop getting yourself in trouble, my friend?" Qui-Gon shook his head, not bothering to dignify that with an answer.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Tahl has him," Mace said, helping him to his feet. "Let's get you out of here."
"Is he okay?"
"He's alive," he replied grimly. "What did they even do to him?"
"I don't know," Qui-Gon said, thinking about blank eyes, bloody fingers, and a hushed voice. "I don't know."
Dai Bendu translations
1. Jaieh - Master
2. Tiv - A quick sorry
3. Imtonbrei - Disturbing/upsetting in the Force. Qui-Gon doesn't have the Force at this point, but he's assuming that if he did, he'd feel the same.
4. Cadeo - Stop
5. Ji - But
6. Calia - Sleep
7. Keelel im aunji boteh nak cosu'ak! - roughly: We do not give you anything!
8. Shet - No
9. Paikawa'ah keel fahk - You trust me. Obi-Wan uses the consequential prefix pai- which implies that the action will have future significance. He is both requesting that Qui-Gon trust him and reminding him of already established trust.
10. Tonbrei enoah foh midaial - I am one with the Force. Half of the meditation mantra "I am one with the Force and the Force is with me."
11. Tamah foh orhma - I am alright. Orhma also means 'warm' as Jedi equate warmth with positive emotion and the Light side of the Force.
12. Taweju - Please
13. Tamah foh brok - I am cold. Because of his earlier use of orhma, Obi-Wan is admitting to being physical cold but also implying that he is hurt and scared without having to use those words.
14. Bika - Here
Thank you for reading!
