Author's Notes: Warning: This is as dark as it gets. Honest.
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
It wasn't possible for one person to feel so much pain and still live. Obi-Wan was convinced of it. He had died sometime in the last few hours...or perhaps he only wished he had. He tried to think of his Master, to hear Qui-Gon's voice inside his head, but there was nothing. Nothing but the cold, aching loneliness. And the pain.
Obi-Wan had thought he knew what pain was. The time he had miscalculated when sparring with another trainee, and the low-energy blade had caught him against the cheek bone. Or the time the ship he was piloting on a training exercise had crashed, and he had ended up with several broken ribs. Or more recently, the fall from the rooftop...
He had been wrong. Everything he had felt before was only a trickle compared to the waterfall of agony coursing through him. Every nerve, every fibre was burning. He was only distantly aware of the world around him, his entire being caught up in his suffering...
Time had elapsed, how much he didn't know. He no longer hung from chains made slippery with his own blood. Now he was on his back, his hands loose by his sides, lying on some cold, hard surface. It was over, at least for now. Fleeting memories flashed through his mind, of what they had done to him, and he shuddered involuntarily, and groaned. But no sound came out. His throat was raw...from screaming, he realized. But somehow it didn't matter. If he tried hard enough he could distance himself from everything. Even the memories...
One thought warmed him. He hadn't broken. He had stood resolute against the darkness and had not betrayed the Jedi. He had not betrayed them...
Voices. A man and a woman. Arguing. Obi-Wan struggled to put names to them as they spoke.
"This can't go on," the man was saying. Altos. The man's name was Altos. "They'll kill him."
Auriga, her voice sounding uncertain for the first time. "He'll talk soon. He has to."
"He won't. He'll die first. You know that. We have to find another way."
"You forget that I'm in charge here, Altos!"
"No you're not. They are." A brief interval, then: "This was a mistake. The Jedi could have helped us, instead..."
"No one could help us. You know that!"
"All I know is that it was a mistake to go along with what they wanted, and a mistake to act on your own. If our government knew..."
"Well they don't know." A vicious hiss. "And they won't. And even if do they find out, they'll thank us."
"Thank us?"
"Perhaps you would prefer that we merely stood by and watched our planet die slowly. Would that ease your conscience, Altos?"
A long pause. "No. I don't think anything can do that now."
"He's just one man." Her voice was softer now. "Surely all those billions of people are worth just one man?"
There was no answer. The voices faded away...
This time when Obi-Wan woke, he woke all the way. The confusion in his mind was gone, although the pain...and the memories...remained. He opened his eyes. He was still in the room where they had...a tremor went through him, but he ignored it. He was lying on his back on the stone floor, the only sounds his own ragged breathing, and the chains clanking softly above him in the cool draught. He was alone. Relief poured through him. He was alone.
And then the memories came crashing over him, of what they had done to him, of what he endured. Obi-Wan's first impulse was to roll himself up into a ball on the cold floor and cry, but even that much movement was beyond him. As for tears - they wouldn't come. Distantly he wondered why. It took several minutes before the answer came to his clouded mind. He was angry. White-hot fury, the like of which he had never experienced before, never even imagined, blazed through him like an inferno. Tears stood no chance in the heat of that anger.
"Good," he thought grimly. "Anger is a weapon. And I will use it." A faint alarm bell tolled somewhere deep inside him, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the fury, feeding it so that it burned even hotter within him.
It was the anger which gave him the strength to roll over, to ignore the hurts, and to lever himself to a sitting position. Then he paused, gasping for air, lungs heaving. Leaning heavily on one arm, head bowed, he looked down... and allowed himself to remember...
They had been skilled at what they did. They had been able to inflict vast amounts of pain on him, but not so much that he would lose consciousness and find refuge in the darkness. No, they had kept him awake and aware, all the while finding new ways to hurt him. Even when the Apprentice had thought there was nothing more they could do, they had found it, done it. And always the questions: "What are a Jedi's powers?" "How many Jedi are there?" "What training is involved?" "How many years?" And so on.
He had told them nothing. Not a single word. Until finally, when he could no longer even scream, they had stopped. Obi-Wan shivered again, looking at the places where they had burned his abdomen and chest with his own lightsabre, and winced. For an instant his vision darkened, and he swayed.
No.
No. He looked away, holding onto the anger instead. They had done no permanent damage, caused no injuries that would not heal fully, given time. There were no excuses, no reason to sit here feeling sorry for himself. And the anger demanded an outlet. He was shaking with the need to vent his fury on someone...anyone...
As if in answer to the thought, the door swung open. Obi- Wan looked up, shaking his head in impatience at the effort it took to focus his eyes, and coiled his muscles. Whoever...whatever...it was, they would regret what they had done to him, he vowed silently to himself.
It was Altos. The Regaidian moved quietly, closing the door behind him. He hesitated, took a step toward the Jedi, then stopped. But Obi-Wan was already in motion, launching himself at the man in a silent, ferocious assault. Somehow all of his pain had vanished, burned away by the rage. Obi-Wan no longer knew or cared about his knee, his concussion, what the torturers had done to him... No, his entire universe had narrowed down to inflicting the same pain on someone else. Anyone else.
Altos went down under a vicious backhand, without a sound, without even a token defence. Obi-Wan could read the startlement in the Regaidian's face, and smell the fear rising within him. And then his hands were around Altos' throat, and he could feel only the bloodlust coursing inside him like a river. The man was pulling desperately at the Apprentice's hands, straining for air, but to no avail. An eternity passed. Obi-Wan squeezed, enjoying the dark feelings of pleasure that welled up within him as the Regaidian went limp...
...and stopped. For a long moment, was motionless, his hands still wrapped tightly around the man's throat, the desire to finish it singing in his ears... And a single memory assailed him.
It was the day Qui-Gon had chosen him as his Apprentice. He didn't remember the danger they had just gone through, or what the Jedi Knight had said. Instead he remembered what he had felt at the time. Happiness. Pure joy. Acceptance. Being part of a family. Knowing he was worthy.
Worthy. Would his Master find him worthy now? Obi-Wan looked...really looked down at Altos. And saw himself. Slowly squeezing the life out of another person, not in self-defence, not to protect another, but in anger. In rage and fury, and out of a desire for revenge. Ahead, the dark side beckoned like an abyss. He had already taken the first step...one more and he would never find his way back. Already the light seemed to be dimming around him. And, for just an instant, Obi-Wan saw his life unfolding before him, saw what would happen if he chose to walk this dark path...
...And he chose the light. With a ragged cry he flung himself backward off the Regaidian, collapsing onto the floor and curling up into a ball. The anger within him gave one last stubborn flicker then faded and died, leaving behind only sorrow and regret. And guilt. So much guilt...
He was crying now, he realized distantly, his vision fogged by tears, trickling down his cheeks. The pain had returned too, now that the anger was no longer keeping it at bay but he didn't care. It didn't seem important anymore, compared to what he had just done...
...what he had just done. Altos! With a moan, Obi-Wan unfolded himself and crawled shakily over to the Regaidian. Had he killed him? Fear shot through the Apprentice. If he had killed him...
But no. Altos coughed suddenly, one hand scrabbling weakly at his bruised throat, gasping for air. Relief replaced the fear in Obi-Wan and he sat down heavily, next to the Regaidian. He reached out an unsteady hand toward him, stopping at the panic in Altos' eyes. The guilt increased. "I have to put this right," the Jedi thought desperately. "Somehow."
Obi-Wan swallowed. "I won't hurt you." It came out as a rough whisper, choked with emotion. "I'm sorry." Under the words was an unspoken plea for forgiveness.
Slowly, cautiously, Altos sat up, rubbing his throat and edging away from the Jedi. For a long moment there was silence as the two looked at each other, then finally the Regaidian asked: "Why didn't you kill me?"
Obi-Wan looked away, absently scrubbing away his tears with the back of one hand. "I didn't kill you...because I remembered what I am." A pause. "I'm a Jedi." There was no conviction in his voice. He didn't feel like a Jedi, had never felt less of one...would probably never be one once the others found out what he had done... A deep blanket seemed to be settling over his mind, numbness radiating outward from his core. It muted the pain and guilt, just a little, and he welcomed it. Welcomed the deadness...
Altos was still holding his throat. "I would have killed me, if I had been in your place."
Obi-Wan stared mutely at him. There was no reply to that. "Why are you here?" he asked instead, not particularly caring what the answer would be. They could torture him to death for all he cared - it would probably be a release...
"I...came to help you."
Obi-Wan blinked. "Help me?" He didn't understand.
"Escape." Altos paused, as if looking for approval. The Jedi just stared at him. Altos continued. "I can help you get to a ship, get away from here..."
Some deep part of Obi-Wan was still functioning, still thinking. "It's a trap," it said instantly. "Don't trust him."
"Why not?" the rest of him argued tiredly. "So what if it is a trap? Just do...something."
"All right," he said out loud.
It was Altos' turn to blink, as if he hadn't expected such easy acquiescence. "Okay. Um...now?"
In answer, Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, swaying a little. Giving him an odd look, the Regaidian also climbed to his feet, reaching out to steady him. "I'm surprised he will even touch me," though Obi-Wan distantly, "after what I did."
"What now?" the Apprentice asked, trying very hard to care.
"Come on." Altos pulled gently at Obi-Wan's arm. "The hallways will be empty for a while. I made sure of that. But we don't have much time..."
Obi-Wan let himself be steered toward the door. The functioning part of him was supplying a running commentary. "He could be doing this just to get my hopes up, to break me that way...make me talk..." But somehow it didn't matter. In one instant his entire life had changed and nothing would be the same. Nothing they had done to him, nothing they could do to him would ever equal what he had done to himself. He had given into the dark side, if only for a minute, had tasted its dark power... He knew now how easily he could draw on the dark side, how close at hand it lay... What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to go on, knowing what he knew?
Something Qui-Gon had once said hovered at the edge of his mind, but he ignored it. He didn't want comforting words; not even the memory of them. He simply wanted...
He didn't know. With a sigh, he let the thought drift from his mind, welcoming the emptiness that replaced it. He barely noticed when they left the cell.