Days and nights were a thing of the past. They were something once used to measure weeks, months, years. To Obi-Wan Kenobi, they didn't exist. Not any more.
For the first stretch of his apparent life sentence he did try, however, to keep track of the passing of days and nights. He needed to in order to stay sane. But all of his efforts proved futile in the end. He couldn't keep track of the rotating guard outside of his cell. He had reasoned their shifts would only be one or one half rotation, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their changing shifts at all.
The food trays he might receive were in the same manner, equally unpredictable and even more scarce. The visits from guards tasked with his torture seemed to be more frequent, though all the same, with no telling duration between visits. His slipping grasp on his sense of time was the ultimate torture, much more so than the pain they would inflict on him in their different, sickly, creative ways.
He had assumed Vader had done this, knowing his old Master all too well. Vader would know any connection to the outside world, such as something measurable like time, would be something he would cling to. He had been right to assume it. Obi-Wan at times, thought he would do anything, perhaps even swear allegiance to the Dark, to leave these four duracrete walls he had been consigned to. But those moments of weakness although persistent, were also fleeting.
Yes, Vader had done it. He had created this small world for him to exist within. A world without time, without beginning or end. Although the Dark Lord had not appeared even once since Obi-Wan had been cast to rot. If the Sith had loomed over him while he slept, he knew not.
At the very least, Obi-Wan was sure Vader had access to the video feed from his cell, the one that broadcast his captivity from the far corner of the ceiling. There was a small shining black orb of a camera lodged into the duracrete there, always watching. Obi-Wan could feel his dark force presence around him when the Officers came down to pilot various devices on him, all designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain without killing. Only with him there was no objective, to extract information or earn a confession. For him the purpose was the pain, the suffering. So that Vader could see it and feel it.
When his body screamed and writhed, trembling against the ministrations of whoever might have been tasked with his torture, he could feel him. The roving cold fingers of the Dark one's probing, prodding at his mind. He could feel the tearing and wrenching on the lifeless cord that once connected their hearts and minds. Now, only a painful wound where it once existed. A gaping vulnerability in his defenses.
Sometimes Obi-Wan even thought he could hear him, the Dark Lord, in whispers and suggestions, wicked accusations and stabbing lies. Through it all, Obi-Wan clung to the light, to the memory of the Jedi Order, though even that most times felt more painful than relieving.
Because the Jedi were all gone, he and a small handful that had scattered among the stars to hide were all that remained. But was he even a Jedi? Could he be considered as such when all he had done was facilitate the very downfall of the Order himself? He had to have been just as bad as the Sith.
Was he thinking these things? Or was it Vader whispering to him? Over time the two had become difficult to decipher. At times, Obi-Wan thought it was himself, the entire time. He thought that perhaps he was going mad.
Whoever had been the author of those dark thoughts, Obi-Wan did everything he could to keep himself from believing them. Though as his time in the cursed cell drug out even longer, his will became thin worn from the isolation, the cold, the hunger.
Even when he reached out for the light, it didn't embrace him. Not like it used to. He had lived his entire life, filled with the light. It had been his everything, his happiness and home. Now it felt so distant, something far away. As if it feared to tread in this place of evil.
Yes, it was this place. Vader's tower on Coruscant, the one given to him by Darth Sidious for his wicked deeds as a reward. For the slaughter of all of those innocents, even the younglings. It was here, where the darkness came to roost, that the light fled away. This hive of darkness and malintent. Obi-Wan could feel it like tar on his skin, creeping over his pure heart.
His heart. Had it ever been pure? There had been times where he had been so close to violating the code. But he hadn't, he never did. He stayed true to the Order. All Jedi were met with temptation from time to time. He had resisted it, nothing transpired from it.
But the parts of himself that desired such things still existed inside of him. They had been silenced, sequestered away. Now they haunted him. If only he could have been better, truly pure. Then maybe he wouldn't have failed Anakin, and the entire Order as a result.
If only Qui-Gon hadn't died. Now, Obi-Wan would have gladly switched places with the man, his beloved Master. He remembered even then all of those years ago when Qui-Gon had died in his arms, how he so desperately wanted to die instead. Part of himself had died with him. Nothing had ever been the same after that day.
Qui-Gon had been so perfect, good, gentle, wise. He hadn't had a single selfish or malicious bone in his body. He had been wonderful, the perfect Master. One coveted amongst the other Padawans, but the one that was his. He had been patient and kind, perfect. He would have been perfect for Anakin, too.
But instead Obi-Wan had taken Anakin as his Padawan. He had failed. If only Qui-Gon had lived, then the galaxy wouldn't have been plunged into darkness. Yes, all of this was his doing. Every wave of death that he felt cascade across the stars, every cry for help and plea for mercy. It all weighed heavily on his shoulders, accusing him. If only he hadn't been so blind.
The space between his heartbeats, between breaths, was spent in a constant battle between giving in and holding fast against such thoughts. He wouldn't, couldn't. To surrender to that way of thinking would be to let the darkness take him over. That, he couldn't allow.
Because his Master was dead, slain long ago. His Padawan, fallen. He had done the best that he could, the best that he knew how. Clearly he could see now, none of it had been enough. Maybe nothing would ever have been enough. He would never know. All he did know, was that all of it had come to pass. Just as the rest of his days would as well.
If only his place wasn't here, inside these four cursed walls. But wishing didn't change a minute of the reality of his existence. It only made it more painful. Somehow he had to accept where he was. He didn't know how to do that while keeping hopeful, and clinging to the light.
Maybe it would have been easier, if he still held onto his force abilities. Though even they were less than a shadow of what they once had been. He could hardly lift a single piece of food off of his last tray that lie in the corner of his cell, without feeling total force exhaustion.
The cause of his waning abilities was unknown. Was it the ever pervasive darkness? The loss of his limb? Had he been forsaken for all of his failings? He didn't think he would ever really know. But he basked in the small beam of goodness that he was allowed all the same, not letting himself think too much of what might happen if he were shut off from it all together. Because holding onto the light felt like hanging onto the end of a fraying string, one that was about to snap and leave him stranded and alone forever. But for now, the light trickled into him slowly, giving him only enough to crave more. A need that for the foreseeable future, would go without being sated.
What other choice did he have but to hold on? There was none. Because the darkness was pervasive, patient and waiting. He felt himself often times at its door, but as much as he thought to, he never let himself give in.
That meant he couldn't allow himself to hate. Not Vader, not the Emperor, not even himself. Although admittedly that last one was definitely the most difficult. Because Vader was the monster that he had forged. The Emperor was the lurking darkness that he had been so willfully blind to. All of their dark and evil deeds were his own fault in the end. All could have been prevented, had he only been more vigilant.
So avoiding self hatred was indeed most difficult. Sometimes even impossible in his darker moments. But he fought against it. He tried to remember the advice his Master had given on more than one occasion.
You cannot allow your sense of responsibility to be clouded by speculation.
Those words saved him from himself sometimes, and made him miss his Master terribly at others. Qui-Gon would know exactly what to do in a situation like this. He wouldn't have been reduced to warring with the conflicting voices inside of himself. His Master would have been resolute in his path.
But Obi-Wan was weak, torn between the warring voices inside of his mind, the dark and the light. He felt like he had gone completely insane, constantly ruminating over and over until he had thought himself into exhaustion. Then he would wake up and do it all over again, until the monotony of it all was broken by a tray or a fancy new torture device to occupy his time.
It was most certainly hell, as Obi-Wan had thought himself just about broken. But he hadn't quite yet learned what broken was at all.
He had been listlessly staring off at the slab duracrete wall when it gave way to the red rayshield that lie beyond. At first he thought his mind had been playing tricks on him when Vader first came into view. Though after rubbing at his eyes in disbelief and the Sith still remaining before him, he found himself temporarily lost for words.
"You're really here," Obi-Wan said, almost as if he still didn't quite believe it. His words were raspy and dry, since he hadn't spoken in quite a long time. He had given up talking to the guards who brought his trays, as much as given up begging and pleading with those who would come to hurt him. They came and went, all in silence. Surely Vader would have them trained on pain of death, never to speak to him. So the only thing that came off of his lips for too long were the screams when the pain of torture became too much to bear.
Vader stared down at him, amber eyes glowing darkly. A look of distress worn on his once beautiful face, now turned ugly by the man he had become. "How do you like it?" he asked in near monotone, head shroud in his dark hooded cloak.
"What, my room?" Obi-Wan asked mockingly, throwing his arms up in gesture to the duracrete walls around him. "It leaves much to be desired," he added dryly.
Even now, especially now, he wouldn't give Vader the gratification of seeing him broken. Not even if he thought he was. The Jedi Master was still under the layers of tattered blood stained clothes, beneath the self hate and conflict. He would never be defeated, because the light would always exist. The Sith couldn't extinguish it, no matter how hard they might try. Same with the last burning bit of his own resolve. He had to stay strong. He couldn't let them win.
If anything, the act of talking to someone and having them answer in return was quite therapeutic. Even if that someone was Vader. Of course there were so many things he wanted to ask, such as how long he had been in isolation. But he didn't need to know. It wouldn't change anything. It would only give Vader something to hold over him.
"No. Your new arm." Vader stated empty, his eyes full of malicious vengeance. His dark stare watched his former Master for any trace of pain or anger, begging for a reaction.
"Ah, well, what can I say. I prefered the old one." Obi-Wan said just as sarcastically, his gut wrenching. He hadn't been sure as to the reason he had been fitted with any replacement at all. Maybe it was just so Vader could take it away, again and again. Though admittedly he hadn't thought about it much any more, as he had woken up in the cell with it, and that had been so long ago. At this point, he had become used to it.
Though the absurdity of their circumstance hit him hard, tearing at his heart for things that once were. It was not so long ago when Anakin had been dismembered by Dooku. Obi-Wan had sat by his side when his best friend drifted out of his healing coma. He was there to hold Anakin when he cried, shaking and trembling. He had cried so much. The loss of his mother, the loss of his arm, the horrendous tragedy of the first battle of Geonosis. It had all been too much.
But here now, was Anakin- Vader. Standing over him, nothing but ash and bitterness in his heart. Once there had been something good there, Obi-Wan had been sure of it. But somehow it had all run dry. There was nothing left of the man he once loved. The monster, Vader stood over him now. He had killed the Jedi, ended the Order. Killed everyone Obi-Wan had ever stood beside as brother or sister.
It was like a bad dream that would never end. But he wasn't about to become emotional, not in front of him. It would only be used against him if he did.
"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to add a nonchalance to his voice, one that was most certainly forced and failing. A bitter heartache escaped in his words, one he instantly regretted.
But somehow, his question unlocked a vulnerability inside of the monster, perhaps a small trace of Anakin still left behind in those wicked conflicted eyes. Obi-Wan thought he might have even seen them gloss over momentarily with unspilt tears. The illusion was feeting, as Vader quickly regained control over his rogue emotions. There was a bitter irony to it, if only he could have managed to do the same when he was Anakin Skywalker.
"It was a year ago today," Vader started and paused, swallowing hard. This time the tears that welled remained, glossing over his Sith tainted eyes. Though they still blazed into Obi-Wan's unrelentingly.
"I've been down here for a whole year, and you've not even had the decency to visit me till now." Obi-Wan said somewhat aghast, though keeping his sarcastic biting tone. "I'm insulted."
Vader's anger ignited instantly, set aflame at his former Master. "Why did you bring her there?" He growled, hands clenched into tight fists.
"I didn't bring her there. I stowed away, she brought herself." Obi-Wan said, this time in a sincere voice, one void of any sarcasm.
"You knew what would happen! You could have stopped it," Vader shouted accusingly, rogue tears slipping down the sides of his face. "You didn't. You wanted her to die." He said damningly, glowering down at him.
"I never wanted anyone to die!" Obi-Wan shouted back, rising shakily to his feet. He was a slight thing these days, made weak from the trays that seemed to be more and more scarce. "I didn't want Padme to die, or the Jedi!" He felt tears welling in his own eyes. He cursed himself as his mask was slipping, the broken man beneath beginning to show. "The younglings!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, still horrified as he thought of it.
"You did, you were jealous," Vader spat accusingly.
"Jealous? Is that what you're telling yourself these days?" Obi-Wan said incredulously, shaking his head. The amount of self deception needed for Vader to function was astronomical if that's what he truly believed.
"You wanted me instead. You wanted what wasn't yours to have." Vader shot back wrathful, all but disengaging the rayshield that parted them to strangle the man with his bare hands.
"I loved you." Obi-Wan confessed, saddened by the truth of it.
"I still remember what happened, coming back to the temple after Zygerria. Don't act like your love for me was so chaste." Vader taunted darkly, snarling.
Yes, he still remembered Zygerria, too. Though it seemed to have been twisted in the Dark one's mind. Yes, Obi-Wan had loved him, wanted him at a time. He had confessed it all.
"You said you didn't feel the same anymore. It was over for me after that." Obi-Wan said, though it wasn't completely true. But in a way, it also was. He had never stopped loving him, wanting him, but he had let it go. He accepted things as they were, without expectations. But then things had changed, and Anakin became consumed by Darth Vader. After he had witnessed the man he once loved killing younglings, he knew he could never feel that way ever again.
"Don't you lie to me," Vader said, looking even more furious by the second. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer but gasped instead, struggling against the invisible grip on his throat for air. "You were angry."
Obi-Wan tried yet again and failed, to muster any words past the ever tightening grip around his throat. "You shouldn't have rejected me when I told you how I felt before. I knew you loved me then, too. I could feel it." Vader's dark mask was beginning to break, revealing the tortured man beneath. Obi-Wan could feel the resonance between both of their shattered hearts. Both of them were hurting terribly. The only difference was when Vader hurt, he inflicted it on others.
The grip finally loosened as Obi-Wan coughed for air, dropping to his hands and knees, lightheaded. "You were too young, hardly eighteen. I didn't want to take advantage," Obi-Wan lamented, head still spinning from the lack of oxygen.
"You could have told me to wait for you. I would have waited forever if you asked me to." Anakin said warily, down trodden. For a moment, he sounded like his old self. Though Obi-Wan didn't dare look up to see the truth in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said honestly. Though he didn't expect those words to defuse Vader, or even lessen his wrath. If anything it would only make the beast angrier.
He had been right. "You brought her there to die. All because of your own regrets." Vader said, seething.
Obi-Wan looked up at him, his tired eyes full of sorrow and remorse, but not for what Vader accused him of. For many things, mostly for failing Anakin so horribly. He took a moment, to gaze with meaning into those wretched yellow eyes. "I never wanted Padme to die. You forget, you're the one who killed her."
Vader sneered down at him, a curl of disgust on his lips, hateful tears brimming in his eyes. Obi-Wan had said the truth, and it seared down to the blackest center of Vader's stone heart, clawing and tormenting him. For a moment, Obi-Wan felt satisfied that the beast who stood before him should feel so torn, as Vader stared listlessly at the wall beside him, hooded eyes blinking, fists clenched with rage.
"Guards," Vader said flatly, as four soldiers in white armor came into view through the transparent red veil that separated them. They stood at attention, waiting for a command. Obi-Wan looked to the troopers then back at Vader nervously. It brought a fleeting sadistic smile to the Sith Lord's face. "Do with the prisoner as you will. He's at your mercy."
"My Lord?" one trooper asked, slightly confused. Vader sensed the nature of his unspoken question and answered in kind, still staring down into his former Master's eyes.
"No killing or dismembering. Anything else you want to do to him is permitted. Don't hold back. It's Jedi scum like this who created your kind to serve as slaves." Vader said, sneering down with revulsion at the man. Wicked glint of vengeance in his eyes.
Three of the troopers muttered and snickered amongst themselves. The other looked reserved, put off by the command. "Is there a problem, Cody?" Vader asked, as the three others had already disengaged the shielding, and began to form a perimeter around the defenseless prisoner.
"No sir, I just," the trooper began nervously, his three brothers already landing punches and blows on Obi-Wan who in spite of his best efforts, was unable to keep them at bay. "I'd rather not-"
"You're dismissed, Cody." Vader said with a wave of his hand, annoyed.
"Yes, my Lord," the trooper said with a polite bow, looking back with what could only be perceived as distress as he hurried off.
Vader surveyed at a distance, as the three other guard had Obi-Wan pinned face down. One at his wrists and one at his ankles while the third climbed on top of him, tearing at his ragged clothes, landing punches as he continued to struggle.
Obi-Wan's heart, what was left of it, crumbled as too many hands wrenched him this way and that, grabbing at him. He had been tortured in many ways, even over the span of the Clone wars he had been held prisoner, but he had always had the force to help defend himself. Now the small trickling feed of light that he had been privy to seemed to dissolve even further as he reached out for it.
"No, please," Obi-Wan gasped out, barely audible as his chest constricted in his rising panic. Still, the assault persisted. His face was pressed hard against the dirty floor of his cell, but he could see Vader's boots turn and begin to walk way. His heart pounded desperately in is chest as he struggled against his attackers.
"Anakin, please!" Obi-Wan begged, hands revealing his bare flesh beneath his torn clothes.
He could see the boots turn back, walk closer. Obi-Wan craned his head to look at his face, bright yellow eyes spiked with red glaring down at him, glossed over with free flowing tears. " I told you before, Anakin is dead," the Dark one declared, something like pain written on his face. Vader turned away promptly, as the trooper that bared down on Obi-Wan quickly and violently plunged into him.
And even more quickly as the assault escalated, Vader walked away hastily. It was almost as if Anakin couldn't stand to see his former Master be hurt like this, even when Vader demanded it. Although the moral platitudes of a Sith Lord hardly mattered to Obi-Wan, as he put every ounce of effort into mentally escaping the attack, since any physical resistance proved fruitless.
He let his mind take him to better days, joyful ones even. The moment when Qui-Gon had taken him on as Padawan, how his heart sang with gladness. The wonder he felt as a youngling, when he had constructed his first lightsaber. His first trip with his class to visit the room of a thousand fountains. Satine, the pure young love they had shared for eachother. Nothing had ever been sweeter and more innocent. Even if it were never to be, it had been wonderful.
Yes, he would stay there for a little while longer.