Star Wars Oneshots

Torture (JO)

A/N: Febuwhump prompt: Torture! The art that inspired it is linked, just be careful as it does include non-graphic eye gouging.

TW: graphic descriptions of... gross, gory stuff. Punching, cutting, etc. Read at your own risk.

Obi-Wan's Point of View

A bounty hunter boarded Obi-Wan's ship and grabbed him, his lightsaber laying harmlessly on a table, closing the doors before he had a chance to grab it with the Force.

He remembered being slammed against a wall, blacking out as he was frozen in carbonite.

Then, nothing.

The next -- week? Month? Obi-Wan wasn't sure how long he'd been frozen -- passed in a blink, and now he was awake, feeling his eyelids moving open and closed but seeing nothing. Hibernation sickness, for sure.

He heard voices, at least three, around him, felt cold air stinging his body. A noise like metal on metal filled the air, a shrieking sort of noise that pierced his ears and left them ringing.

Tight binders cut into his wrists, bound above his head, just low enough for his knees to rest on the floor. His head hurt, and all over, he was cold. And so tired.

"The Jedi is awake," a sharp voice sneered, and Obi-Wan could imagine a cruel smile upon their mouth, assuming they were human. He elected to remain silent. "Ready to get started, boys?"

Murmurs of agreement and whoops of excitement filled the room, and Obi-Wan realized there must be many more than just three of them. What did the leader mean by "get started"? he wondered silently, dread filling him.

The anticipation was always worse than the actual thing, he reminded himself. Qui-Gon taught him that.

He heard all the people crowding around -- there must have been nine or ten -- and closed his unseeing eyes, feeling one's hot breath on his neck. Were they torturing him for information? Or testing him to see how good of a pleasure slave he'd make?

He shivered as a meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he fought the urge to wriggle away from it. "Burg, have at it," the same sharp voice commanded. Obi-Wan steeled himself for whatever was to come, ready to retreat into his mind at any moment.

He braced himself for a few moments, where he could hear some shuffling around, the sound of someone chewing something. Nothing was happening. Why wasn't anything happ--

His thought was cut off by a sharp punch to his chest. Obi-Wan gasped, pain blooming from the spot where he'd been punched. He didn't even have time to regain his breath before a fist slammed into his other side, followed by a few hits to the front and back in rapid succession. Tears pricked his eyes which had flown open, still seeing nothing.

More fists attacked his upper body. He heard something crack and sagged against his bonds, which seemed to be further up in the air than the last time he'd payed attention.

Sure enough, a few punches later, his wrists were high enough off the ground that he was forced to stretch for the binders not to cut his skin. It was using all his willpower not to cry out in pain.

Every time a new fist made contact with some part of his body, he crumpled a little more until he was suspended almost completely by his wrists. This was so much worse than the anticipation.

Vaguely, through the haze of pain, he realized that it was time to retreat into his consciousness, go into a hibernation trance, wait for Jango to find him. He tried to focus enough to meditate and fall into a state that would prevent him from feeling pain, but there was too much irregularity in their abuse to concentrate.

"Qin! Your turn!" the leader laughed, and Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to wonder what was coming before something sliced through the robes covering his torso, nicking his skin in the process.

He flinched, a small whimper escaping his lips. "Oho!" the leader crowed. "Do that again!" Again the knife broke his skin, but he clamped his mouth shut, focusing on Jango's face in his mind. They had a plan. Jango knew the passphrase that would wake Obi-Wan up. It would be okay.

Obi-Wan fixated on the scars of his lover's face, the small one under his right eye from a piece of shrapnel, the line through his left eyebrow from a rival bounty hunter during a petty fight.

He traced the shape of his eyebrows, the freckles on his nose, the coarse stubble on his chin. When was he coming?

A particularly deep gash from the knife made him gasp and lose the picture, excruciating and tearing his muscles. He gritted his teeth and ignored the blood seeping down his stomach, the spots of burning flesh from what felt like acid splatters, shooting all his energy at the trance.

Jango's face. His face. Tan skin. Brown eyes. A mouth that smiled when he thought something was funny. Short hair that Obi-Wan would run his hands through. 

He would see Jango again. But until then, he let the darkness swallow him, retreating to the nook of light in his mind, laying down in the golden cocoon and closing his eyes.

• • • • •

Jango's Point of View

"Split up! I'll find Obi-Wan, you clear the hallways. Make sure Mij is on standby, I'll find you as soon as I can," Jango yelled, blasting down a few people in his way.

The spaceship was filled with people, scum and villainy from every corner of the galaxy. Why they had captured Obi-Wan and what they'd done to him, Jango could only guess.

Blasting down a few more creatures lurking in the shadows, Jango rounded a corner and found himself in a large, dark room, a single light shining on a crumpled figure in the center.

"Obi-Wan!" Jango cried, voice echoing throughout the open room as he ran to the slumped figure.

His arms were tied above his head and his shirt was removed to display hundreds of dark purple bruises, burns, and angry red gashes, crusted with blood, marring his chest and back. "Obi-Wan, wake up," Jango spoke loudly, inspecting the rest of his body for damage. He wasn't breathing.

"Get Mij!" he yelled out the open door, someone running in and working on the binders holding his wrists above his head.

Jango tried not to panic, remembering what Obi-Wan had said. There was a password.

"No one in the world ever gets what they want and that is beautiful," Jango murmured, cradling Obi-Wan's bloody face in his hands. It appeared they'd gouged his eyes to the point of bleeding, blood dried to his face and matted in his hair. 

Those kriffing shabuire.

Obi-Wan's head moved, just a bit. "I've got you, cyare, you're safe, I'm here," Jango whispered, tears pricking his eyes. "Please, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's cracked lips opened a tiny bit. "Jango?" he said, so quietly, like he didn't believe he'd been found.

"Obi-Wan," Jango smiled a small smile.

"You found me...."

"Of course, Obi-Wan. I'll always come for you, cyare. Always."

Jango let their lips brush to remind Obi-Wan of where he was, who he was with, and that he was safe, before loading him onto Mij's floating stretcher and addressing the wound situation.

Translations:

Shabuire = Jerks (but so much worse)

Cyare = darling