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My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.
His arms ached from holding his body weight for so long. “Again,” he hears. Fire danced through his veins as shocks coursed across his body. His back arched against his restraints; distantly, he hears someone scream. He thinks it might have been him. Then the electricity was abruptly turned off, and his body went lax in his restraints. “Tell us where it is, Kenobi.” Obi-Wan doesn’t know who’s torturing interrogating him this time- his vision is too blurry to tell. As black spots flicker in his eyes, he hears his captor scoff. “He’s worthless now. Take him back to his cell.”
My Padawan is Anakin Skywalker.
He was hungry and he was thirsty. One meal of slop and a cup of water every two days was not enough to sustain him. When they dumped him in his cell, he slumped against the wall and counted his ribs. They were all visible, now. Obi-Wan’s eyes drooped and his chin hit his chest.
No, I have to stay awake,
he thought. Early in his captivity they had taken him while he was asleep; the torturing
interrogation had been particularly bad that day. After counting all the cracks in the floor and the number of bards on the door, he ran out of things to do; so he started singing. His voice did not sound as it once had, it was raspy from dehydration and disuse. But he sang anyway. It was a song he used to sing to Anakin, back in his Padawan days to comfort him when things became overwhelming. It was a song of family and promises of home. Obi-Wan missed his home.
He wanted to see his men again, he wanted to see Anakin and Ahsoka, he wanted to see the sun. He wanted, wanted, wanted. But he knew that he could not give in. The others were his priority. They could break his body, break his soul, but they would not break his mind. He would not allow them to take his family.
His Padawan is Ahsoka Tano.
How long he had been there, he did not know. In the beginning, he tried to keep track of the days. But without seeing the sun, without having regular meals, without sleeping , it was difficult to differentiate between day and night. All he knew was that he had to persevere. He could not give in.
Obi-Wan tried to remember his good memories; he knew that he had to have some. Surely this pain and loneliness had not been his entire existence? But as blows from metal fists rained down upon him, he couldn’t remember any happy thoughts. Each blow brought with it pain. When he tried to reach out into the Force to grasp some tendril of light, there was nothing. His constant companion had been taken from him. He bowed his head.
I will endure so that they may live.
Pain was his accomplice now. Whether it was the shocks running through his system, or the mostly broken bones that were never given time to heal, or the perpetual hunger pangs in his stomach, he was no longer alone. The pain was always there; he had run out of ways to block it.
Every time they brought him into that cursed room, he closed his eyes and began again.
My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.