Title: Will The Sun Ever Shine Again?
Author(s): Padawan_Jess_Kenobi
Timeframe: JA- I'm saying Obi is around 18
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn... others.
Genre: Angsty, and Obi-abuse... shhhh! The torture scenes are mildly described, at least I think so.
Keywords: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn
Summary: Obi is captured on a foreign planet, and he finds his strength and hope fading.

MAJOR AUTHORS NOTE: Ok, so this is kind of weird. I wrote 5 parts to this story back in 2003, when I was 13 years old. (I guess that makes me a sick and twisted 13-year old lol). I am now revisiting this story, and am editing it again and changing some parts. I hope to be able to finish this story this time around. I am sorry for those people that liked my story back when I posted it... 6 years ago. I hope that I can do a bit of justice and make it better this time.

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Cold. Pain.

Obi-Wan Kenobi' s knew little else but those two awful senses, and they enveloped his soul and left him breathless. He shivered, the torn pieces of his Jedi garments bearing him little to no warmth. Obi-Wan tried to sit up, and could barely contain a whimper as a sharp pain shot through his ribs and chest. He rested his hand on the wall, and attempted to pull himself into a standing position.

The young Jedi managed to stand for a couple seconds until his injured ankle could support him no longer, and he came crashing down. He barely registered the feel of the floor against his body, though from memory he knew it was hard and unyielding.

The cell he was in was a tiny one, and barely any light was visible through a sliver in the wall which served as a window. Even during the day the room was plunged in an unnatural darkness, though Obi-Wan's eyes had grown accustomed in time. The walls that surrounded him were of a steel colored gray, and several sharp nails protruded from it at random. The room was bare, with nothing in it that could provide the Jedi with comfort, or shield him from the cold at night.

Obi-Wan looked at himself through a small puddle of water in the corner of the room. His tunic was in pieces, and had lost it sandy coloring, instead being replaced by grime and the grittiness of dried blood. His normally short brown-gold hair was now filthy, and it hung in an unkempt mess a little below his ear. The only act of mercy that had been shown to him was that his braid had not been cut off.

His ribs protruded in a way that was evidence to the semi-starved state he was sustained in. Nearly his entire body was covered in blood, and whether it was dry or fresh, Obi-Wan could not tell anymore. He turned around gingerly to look at his back, and his eyes were met with ugly welts and thick bloodied scars. Obi-Wan winced as he tentatively drew in a breath; his abused and bruised ribs allowing him minimal movement and breathing.

A sound cut through the stale air suddenly, shocking him into movement.

Footsteps.

Obi-Wan immediately backed up against the wall, his throat closing with anxiousness. It was him. He was coming. Obi-Wan trembled silently, and fought against the rising fear. The footsteps were coming closer, and getting louder.

They seemed to echo around the cell, until Obi-Wan could hear nothing else but its fall in his ears. Every second, the sound of boots hitting the floor became louder and louder, until they were like blasters filling the air.

Obi-Wan gulped involuntarily. He tried to reach the Force to help calm him, but he was too weak to reach out and draw on the ever-elusive power. The door started to open slowly, and a sensation of evil so strong permeated the room that Obi-Wan had to fight the pain it caused him.

A figure capped all in black walked slowly into the room, and the feeling of malevolence trailed him as would a shadow. Obi-Wan struggled to hold back his emotion, but when the figure spoke, he could not help but shiver.

"Are you scared Little Jedi?'' The figure asked, drawing out certain syllables. Obi-Wan tried to bolt down his fear, and sat still, not answering out of defiance.

"Answer me!" He shouted as he slapped Obi-Wan across the face with amazing force and speed. Obi-Wan reeled back from the force of the blow, but he would not give his assailant the satisfaction of touching his burning cheek.

"I am not afraid, not of you," Obi-Wan said, the boldness of his words belied by the unsteadiness of his voice.

The man in black let out a frigid laugh, although it bore no humor in it. "I don't like liars," he said with a growl. He reached into the depths of darkness that was his cloak and a familiar looking weapon appeared in his hand a moment later. "You plead for mercy, and I'll go a little bit easier on you. What do you think, Jedi? Deal?"

Obi-Wan took as deep a breath as he could muster, and lifted his head bravely, though the very sight of the weapon made his heart stop. "No, I am a Jedi, and I will not beg for mercy." Obi-Wan had been trained for too many years to give in to this man's wishes, no matter how hard he may punish him.

Under the hood, a cruel scowl was visible on the figure's lips. "Have it your way, Jedi," he said simply. He then quickly brought the weapon down upon Obi-Wan's scarred back, and a hiss of malicious joy escaped the man's lips. The blow sent swords of agony piercing through every inch of Obi-Wan's body, and his every muscle felt as if it was on fire. He bit back a scream of pain; he would not give the robed man any pleasure in knowing that he was hurt.

Again and again was the weapon brought down upon Obi-Wan in various places, and time seemed to crawl at first, and then it sped up until time itself was indistinguishable. Obi-Wan felt numb, but then he felt pain, and then he could not tell when the weapon was cutting him or when it was stayed.

Finally the evil creature brought up the weapon, and the shiny, silver tip of the blade was now dulled and stained crimson from the Jedi's blood. Obi-Wan was left sprawled on the floor and panting for breath; every bone and muscle in his body burning as if after a fire.

Without a word the black-robed figure left the small room and locked the door, leaving a broken Obi-Wan lying motionless on the floor.

Obi-Wan didn't know how long he laid there, salty tears running down his cheeks as he silently cried, with no one to listen to him. He tried to calm his rapid breathing and slow down his racing heart for the longest time until he regained some semblance of previous control.

He raised his head weakly to look through the small window, and noticed that the day had passed and it was night. A dizziness overtook Obi-Wan and he found that he was barely able to shake it off. He looked through the window again; sweat forming on his forehead as he shivered again in the cold. He could make out something through the window. Then again it could have been his vision failing him. But whatever it was, it looked bright; almost like a star.

He knew it was silly, but he found himself concentrating on the star, and opening his cracked lips enough to speak. "Master," he coughed viciously as sickness started to overtake him. "Please- please hear me. I need your help, please find me… please," he pleaded, his once pleasantly accented voice gritty and raspy with pain.

Unconsciousness beckoned him with its sweet promise of repose, and Obi-Wan found himself slipping. As his eyes closed, he could see the star twinkling in the distance, seeming so very far away. "Master," he whispered, a small smile touching his lips just as the world around him went dark.

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