Coruscant

Anakin paced nervously back and forth in his small cell - he already called it his - rubbing a hand over the beard that had grown in his time being here. He wouldn't be lying if he said he was yearning for a shave.

The beard itched.

Increasingly, he wondered how Obi-Wan could stand it.

Obi-Wan.

He didn't know how long it had been since he disappeared. Weeks. Maybe even months. When the guards had taken him from the infirmary, he had screamed and fought, had demanded answers.

Of course, he hadn't gotten any.

Instead, they'd taken him to a dark part of the prison - which he was sure wasn't legal - and thrown him into this little box with no windows, sealing the door behind them.

That was the last time Anakin had had human contact.

A droid periodically pushed a tray of water and ration bars through a small crack in the door. In a desperate attempt, he had once tried to grab the droid with his hands - without success, of course.

In response, they had turned off the light in his box, leaving him in darkness.

It had started to get to him. The confinement, the darkness.

Absently, Anakin wondered if this was how Obi-Wan constantly felt.

For perhaps the first time in years, he had even tried to meditate. But the Force slipped through his fingers as if it were unnaturally distant.

Either there were force dampeners built into the walls - or they were mixing something into his food. Neither was something he could do anything about.

He was constantly hungry and thirsty. He didn't have the strength to spurn his meals.

Pulling at his hair, Anakin finally sat down on the thin mattress on the floor that served as his bed.

The thing stank - just like the rest of the cell - but over time he had become accustomed to it.

I would kill for a shower - and a little light.

Sitting here in the dark made him realize more and more what he had done to Obi-Wan. How dependent you are on your eyes - what it does to your mind when suddenly there was nothing there.

He missed them all.

Padme. Ahsoka. Obi-Wan.

A single tear, hot and stinging, ran down his cheek and Anakin absently wiped it away, ignoring how the touch hurt his face.

He deserved all of this.

I am a monster.

Suddenly there were footsteps in the hallway - am I hallucinating? - and his cell was torn open, a group of guards rushing in without a word.

"Hey, what...," he started as they roughly took hold of his limbs, wrestling his arms behind his back before putting him in binders.

Neither of them spoke as they pulled him out of the cell, dragging him to force-knows-where. Anakin tried to struggle to break free, but one of the guards just laughed, unceremoniously kicking his legs away.

They didn't let him get up again, instead dragging him across the filthy floor.

He could barely see where they were taking him, the lights of the corridors burning painfully in his eyes.

Are they going to kill me now? What had happened?

The Force wasn't coming back to him, no matter how hard he tried.

So it was the blasted food.

The guards dragged him into a room where there was nothing more than two chairs and a table made of shiny metal. Without much ado, they hoisted him onto one of the chairs and tied his hands to the backrest.

Anakin growled as they tried to secure his legs to the chair as well, and kicked one of the men hard.

He missed, of course, and sooner than he wanted to admit, he could no longer move his legs.

"What's the meaning of this?" he barked, straining against his bonds.

The guards left the room without a word and closed the door behind them.

Anakin stared at the blank wall with his breath rattling in his chest and wondered what was going on. He tried to calm himself and then closed his eyes, concentrating on letting air into his lungs. When his heart stopped threatening to jump out of his chest, he opened his eyes again and sat up for the first time after being dragged out of his room.

He was dirty. The jumpsuit he was wearing was now more tan than orange and his hair was matted - and itchy.

"I could help you out of your situation, you know boy?" a voice suddenly said, making him snap his head up.

His eyes settled on the dirty smile of Chancellor Palpatine and his blood froze in his veins.

"What do you want?" he choked out, his windpipe constricting.

Palpatine studied him as if he were a small child. "I would have thought that the Jedi - or rather Master Kenobi - would have taught you better manners. I should no longer be surprised that this man is a complete disappointment."

The words grated on Anakin's nerves. "I save my good manners for the people who have earned my respect, Chancellor."

The politician's eyes narrowed. "Bold words for someone in your position, don't you think?"

Anakin straightened up on his chair as much as he could. "Don't think I don't have you figured out."

"It took you long enough," Palpatine huffed, the malicious grin returning to his face, "Tell me, how many times has your master tried to warn you about me?"

Too many times. Damn it, Obi-Wan why didn't you stand your ground?

"Let my master out of this."

Palpatine leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in the sleeves of his robe. "I thought you might be worried about the old man," he said nonchalantly, "You two were so close, weren't you?"

He tilted his head, his gaze burning on Anakin's skin. "Until you took his eyes out," he continued amused, "I must say I'm really proud of you, cutting yourself free like that-."

„ Stop," he snapped, his voice rough, „Just stop."

"This hatred. Maybe I should have locked you two in a cell a little longer after all."

"I. Don't. Hate. Obi-Wan," Anakin grunted, his fingers curling into fists.

He had just never shown him.

"He was holding you back, boy," Palpatine argued undeterred, "Don't you see how much potential you have? How much you can still learn from me?"

Amber eyes stared back at him.

"I will never join you," he countered, swallowing his nervousness.

Palpatine chuckled and stood up from his seat, circling the table like a predator leering on his prey. He came to a stop behind Anakin's chair, leaning forward. "Maybe you need a little motivation," he whispered directly into his ear, making him jerk his head to the side, "A demonstration of what you've caused."

The Sith produced a datapad from his robes and placed it on the table in front of him. His cold hands wrapped around Anakin's head, pinning him in place.

A shiver ran down his spine.

"I want you to take a good look at this," Palpatine whispered, "And remember, you could have prevented this."

With a click, the datapad screen activated.

It showed a recording from a surveillance camera. Anakin stared at the metal table on which an all-too-familiar figure coming into the frame..

Obi-Wan.

He looked awful. There were cuts and bruises covering every inch of his body; a bloody bandage wrapped around one of his forearms.

And someone had dared to shave off his hair, leaving only an uneven buzz cut of the ginger hair.

Palpatine's fingers carded almost gently through his hair and if he could he would have pulled away.

But he couldn't.

His master was barely conscious when the droids pulled him between them before throwing him onto the table and restraining him with metal straps. The recording was of poor quality, but Anakin could see Obi-Wan trying to writhe as they pinned him down, face contorted in pain. One of the droids fixed what looked like electrodes to his head.

The droids finally stepped back and an unfamiliar woman in a lab coat stepped forward, first running a hand over Obi-Wan's temple and then sliding her finger down to his knees.

The video had no sound, but the woman seemed to be commanding the droids while squeezing Obi-Wan's legs almost tenderly. His friend was shaking violently, trying to pull away.

The scientist laughed as she seemed to realize this as well and stepped up to his head again, whispering something in his ear with a grin as she ran her fingers through his beard.

As she did so, the droids re-entered the frame, each of them carrying what looked like a heavy sledgehammer.

"No," Anakin gasped helplessly, watching as they positioned themselves around Obi-Wan's legs.

Palpatine chuckled next to his ear. "You should know best what the punishment is for a slave who tried to escape."

A choking lump formed in his throat.

Masters usually broke a slave's leg - twisted it just to be sure that they would never walk normally again.

"I see you understand what I mean," the Sith grinned, "Kenobi here almost made it, you know? Until his comrades betrayed him - dumped him like a piece of trash."

In the video, the droids raised their hammers.

"They left him right outside their ship - unable to move, in pain."

The hammers came down on Obi-Wan's exposed legs.

I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan.

"How do you think it feels when everyone betrays you?" Palpatine asked nonchalantly, "Your comrades, your family..."

The droids continued even as the legs had lost their natural shape.

Anakin forced his eyes closed, tears burning on his skin.

A cold finger removed the tears almost fatherly. "Now, now, you don't need to cry, my boy," Palpatine soothed with mock sympathy, "You have the fate of your friends in your hands. Join me and nothing will happen to them."

He opened his eyes again, settling them on the paused video recording.

They had finally let go of Obi-Wan, leaving him unconscious on the table.

"Did you kill him?" he croaked softly.

" I didn't kill him. But I'm afraid Arbor was a little too enthusiastic with her experiments..."

Arbor. Somewhere that name sounded familiar to him.

A deep sadness clutched at his heart, tearing out something viciously.

"You're a monster...," he whispered, trying to remember all the beautiful moments he and Obi-Wan had shared, "... A fucking monster."

There was no anger left inside him - only defeat.

"You call me a monster, even though it was you who pushed Kenobi first?" indulged Palpatine, "I only finished what you started."

The Sith leaned forward again. " You are a monster, Anakin Skywalker."

I know.

He had mercilessly exploited Obi-Wan's gentleness, had taken his heart, torn it out, crushed it and then stuffed it back in.

And yet the man had been there at the end. Holding out his hand.

"You couldn't save him," Palpatine continued, "But your wife, your Padawan. They still can. All you have to do is join me."

No. Never.

"Over my dead body."

Palpatine stepped back to the other side of the table, a scowl on his face. "Then be sure their blood will be on your hands as well."

"...Don't you dare touch them," Anakin sneered, once again struggling helplessly against his bonds.

"You had your chance, Anakin," the Sith replied unperturbed and called the guards back into the room with a wave of his hand, "Take him back to his cell."

Anakin squirmed, trying to break free as they lifted him from the chair and replaced his bindings. "Don't touch me!" he yelled, swinging wide to hit just about anything.

A baton hit him hard in the face in response, breaking his nose effortlessly.

His vision blurred as he tried to gasp for air, choking on the blood pooling in his throat. He barely registered that the guards had already started dragging him along, his mind hazy.

That only sunk in when he suddenly was flung forward, his face smacking against the metal floor of his cell. The door closed behind him with a bang, sealing him in darkness again.

Anakin tried to get to his feet, bloodied fingers scraping over the ground – trying to find purchase. A warm liquid kept running down his face, hitting the floor with a silent drip.

The metallic taste made him gag, but there was nothing left in his stomach.

He crawled to the door on all fours, pushing himself up against it.

"Let me out!" he roared, slamming his upper body against it.

He howled as he continued to beat himself against the door - but it wouldn't budge.

There was no one there to hear him.

Energy spent, he sank to his knees, pressing his head against the door.

You brought this on yourself, Anakin.

He had no tears left.