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Quinlan paced his cell, back and forth, back and forth. It was a small cell, no sunlight. Just the artificial light. Meals didn't even come at regular intervals. He had a visitor two times, checking to see if he was ready to talk yet.
It had been eight meals. Which could mean it was day three. But it could be less or more. Quinlan wasn't certain, and his internal clock wasn't certain either.
Ready to talk? They may want to know about what he and Obi knew about the Jedi Order, about Alderaan and Senator Organa and other senators they liked to talk to, but they were looking to something to use and he was going to give them nothing. He knew that Obi-Wan was of the same opinion.
But they had to be careful. They could not let on that they had other information they had to keep secret. They could not let on that they knew of two time travelers from the future. That the two time travelers were older versions of themselves. That they knew more about the future than anyone besides the Council.
Whatever happened, keeping that secret, unnoticed was most important. Especially since Quinlan didn't know what they were looking for.
Step, step... wall... turn, resume steps.
They had been on a mission with their young padawans. Aayla was sixteen and Anakin was fourteen. A relatively simple mission that still took four of them. They were helping a planet rebuild after a series of disasters while also scaring off any pirates or other sorts of scavengers and bounty hunters that might show up looking for a profit.
It had been going well. Anakin and Ahsoka blended in well with the local children, and told them stories. Got the children to help out in ways they could. Which helped the children recover from the trauma of the disasters, and lessened the burden on the adults. With the simpler things taken care of, and not having to worry about their children, the adults did better at helping with the rebuilding efforts.
Step, wall, turn... Quinlan sighed and leaned back on the wall. He let himself slide down to wrap his arms around his legs. He was lonely. He was already starting to get to the point he would accept any one. He never did do well with being alone.
They had finished up with their mission parameters, going above and beyond. They left the system... only to be immediately attacked and captured by some mercenary group. Quinlan hadn't had a chance to find out much. He had tried asking some basic questions, and was stone walled, just like Obi-Wan
And they promptly went straight for solitary confinement for him and Obi-Wan, opting to keep the padawans together.. Eight, not that great but of varying size, meals later... He was feeling lonely but was otherwise fine.
.
Twelve meals since he had been put in the cell, no new visits.
Quinlan alternated between meditating and exercising. They didn't allow him anything for entertainment.
He was doing a lot of thinking. Trying not to get too lost in his mind. Trying not to bring up old trauma. Trying, trying, trying, to be the Jedi he was supposed to be. The Jedi he had been for a long time.
As his thoughts went a direction he didn't like yet again, Quinlan started doing sit ups again.
.
Seventeen meals.
This time there was a visitor.
Quinlan looked up from where he was sitting on the bed, trying to meditate, but finding it difficult to ignore how long it had been since he had felt the touch of another person. His skin was already itching. It had to have been at least two weeks, then, if he had the timeline right.
“Are you ready to talk?”
Quinlan glared. “I do not even know what you want.”
The visitor, the ring leader chuckled. “Information, Quinlan Vos. You are close with many senators, and you and your partner are at the center of several high profile missions that went well. You should have information we can sell.
Quinlan leaned back. “No.” He crossed his arms. Just because his skin was itching did not mean he was going to give in.
“Very well.”
He was gone.
Quinlan laid down. He was tired.
.
Twenty three meals. No sign of this ending. His skin burned with the lack of touch. No amount of scratching could soothe it.
Quinlan had experienced what it was like to go too long with out touch before. But it had never been anything like this, not even when Ben had arrived and helped him. It had been bad. But now he was ready to tear his skin off.
.
Twenty five meals.
His arms and legs were now bleeding. Quinlan wished he could have figured out some other way to deal, but he could not. He was just desperate for the feeling to go away.
He'd had a visit before that but he was still refusing. He could handle the isolation. He'd rather die than give up information.
.
Twenty nine meals.
Quinlan was curled in bed, arms and legs a mess. He was tired. He saw the plate come through the slot and ignored it, pulling the blanket tighter around him and holding it to keep himself from scratching.
.
Thirty three meals.
He had not skipped the last meal but he was still so tired. He didn't even have the energy to get up to get the food. He stared at it, stomach growling, and fell asleep still thinking about it.
.
Thirty seven meals.
Quinlan woke up, saw the waiting plate and rolled over. He wasn't interested. He was tired of being alone. Tired of eating the meals that were somehow always enough even though the time between meals varied. He was thinking, when he could think, they were doing two meals a day. He was on day nineteen in that case, and he was not doing well.
An angry growl from his stomach had him curling tighter as he stared at the wall.
.
Thirty eight meals.
He managed to eat this time. He threw it up and went back to staring at the wall or the ceiling and trying not to tear his skin off as it was slowing intensifying how painful the burning was. He needed touch. He needed his husband. He needed Obi-Wan.
.
Forty meals.
How had he not died of starvation yet? Eh, didn't matter. Nothing really mattered.
Quinlan stared blankly at the wall and didn't react when the person in charge showed up to ask him if he was ready to talk.
.
Forty four meals.
Quinlan didn't wake up.
.
Quinlan blinked at the ceiling when he woke up. He felt awful. Skin burning burning burning. He needed touch, needed someone to talk to. Where was he? How was he alive?
He looked to the side and spotted the IV. Oh. Right. That could be a thing. So... he was in the infirmary?
And no one was in sight.
Quinlan went to scratch at his arms, only to find they had been bandaged. Strange. He curled up on his side and stared at the wall, not able to think of what he could do in this situation.
“Vos, are you ready to talk?”
Quinlan shook his head and curled up tighter.
“You would rather die than give up the information, is it? Well, we have other ways of making you talk, especially now that you're more vulnerable.”
Quinlan squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to know what was coming next.
“Ah, good, the IV is done.”
Quinlan cried out when the needle was ripped out of his arm.
The leader chuckled and grabbed his arm. “Come on, to torture, I mean interrogation with you.”
Quinlan didn't fight it, just let him drag him along. He didn't have the energy. And the touch was kind of nice, which was a bad sign of just how bad it had gotten.
He didn't react when they started in on other methods of torture. Oh, it hurt, and there were tears in his eyes, but he didn't have the energy to make it a big production. And he still wasn't inclined to give information.
“So, you haven't asked about your fellow knight, how he's doing. He's not having an easy time with solitary confinement either. Probably will have to pull him tonight. And what about those padawans? They're fine. We're leaving them alone, they're getting their three meals a day, and they have each other. But that could change.”
That got Quinlan's attention. “No!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “Not them.”
“Then, you need to talk, Vos... Give us the information we need.”
“What are you going to do them if I don't?” Quinlan whimpered when another bone was shattered.
“What we're doing to you... and you will watch until you tell us what we want to know.”
Quinlan couldn't stomach the thought. “What... what did you want to know?”
“There we go, that's better.”
.
Quinlan whimpered as he was tossed into a different cell. He had done his best to keep the information as harmless as he could. And had not let them anywhere near the really important information about time travelers.
He curled up where he landed as best he could through the pain of his injuries.
“Quin?” The whisper caught his attention and he looked, letting out a sob of relief when he saw Obi-Wan.
“Obi...” Quinlan dragged himself over to Obi and clung to him, allowing some tears.
Obi-Wan wrapped shaking arms around him and held him tightly. “I take it we both gave them information?”
“Yeah... I tried to keep it to things that weren't going to get people hurt but they wouldn't let me... threatened our padawans.” Quinlan was trembling as he held onto his husband, soaking in the feeling of comfort, of touch for the first time in far too long. The burning in his skin slowly improved and disappeared as they cuddled.
“They did that to me too. But they don't know our greatest secret, so at least there's that...”
“How are we going to get out of here?” Quinlan asked, still shaky from going so long without touch. From being alone for so long.
“I don't know Quin...” Obi-Wan was also still shaky from being alone for so long.
Quinlan sighed and just wrapped his arms around his husband, giving him a light kiss. “Our padawans are resourceful. Maybe they'll figure it out.”
Obi-Wan leaned in, sighing. “Maybe they will. I haven't experienced anything like that before. Being captured, sure, but being so isolated... that's new.”
“All I keep thinking about is when Ben showed up,” Quinlan admitted. “Because that's the one thing that comes even close. They mostly ignored me aside from meals and fighting. I was touch starved already, and freaking out, and then Ben showed up and took care of me. Things were horrible but I was able to survive.”
“You were also fifteen... it's been seventeen years Quin. It still bothers you?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Some of the wounds ache sometimes, and it's hard to forget that's how Ben lost his eye. But mostly I'm thinking about it because it's the closest scenario and Ben showed up out of the blue to keep me as safe as possible. And part of me is hoping for the same to happen, but you're right it's been seventeen years. He was already almost fifty back then... now he's closer to seventy than sixty.”
Obi-Wan pressed their foreheads together. “And he protests any thought of him being old, just like Nic does. I don't blame you for wanting him to come to our rescue. They both would, along with Tholme, as soon as there's trouble. For now, we should just focus on recovering from isolation, and maybe with a little healing we'll figure something out.”
“Right.” Quinlan snuggled in. “Which means nap time.”
“Nap time.” Obi-Wan agreed, closing his eyes as he got as comfortable as he could.
.
Their padawans did in fact figure it out. Just the next morning, they got themselves and their masters out of there, though they freaked out upon seeing how injured their masters were.
Dominic had to show up at the Healing Halls to keep Anakin calm, doing his duties as grandmaster to an Anakin that was so similar and yet so far away from the Anakin his own husband had raised.
Aayla was happy to see him and Ben, finally being able to break down now that she didn't have to worry about Anakin.
Obi-Wan and Quinlan would recover, and deal with the fallout. Time would move on as it always did.