By Christina, kenobijedione@yahoo.com

Rating: R for sexual situations, angst, language, violence, rape... it's dark

Category: A few months before TPM

Summary: A dark, angsty piece about Obi-Wan Kenobi, the woman he loves, and a terrible, terrible situation.

Feedback: It's equal to chocolate.

Archive: If you want it, take it, just make sure headers intact and you let me know so I can take a peek!

Disclaimer: No infringement on certain characters intended, just writing for fun, I'll put them back where I found them when I'm done. Anyone you recognize belongs to George Lucas, anyone else is mine.

Darkness was falling again, which meant it was almost time for the pain to start. Hannah expected to hear the familiar footsteps ascending the hallway, then the formidable clanking of the metal bars on her cell—her cage, that was the proper way to describe it—as the heavy door lifted and slid open. Then, concentrated breathing and soft, anticipatory laughter.

That was on the part of her captor. As for her, she would feel the familiar nausea that came with the impending defilement, then concentrate, using whatever strength she could to slip herself into subconsciousness, that safe place where no one could touch her, and she could be safe and happy and warm again.

This night was different.

Hannah knew it the moment she heard dual footsteps in the hall. There wasn’t just one, now there were two, or more. Great. A gang rape. Just when a girl thought things couldn’t get worse...

The familiar voice startled her, and the young woman pulled herself out of her safety, darkness she was about to sink into suddenly refracted, as she forced herself to listen; conscious, attentive.

The duo approached the bars—her cage—and the voice spoke again. Clear defiance, then registered shock.

"There is no way you are getting away—" a pause. Obi-Wan Kenobi froze in place, ignoring the insistent tugging on his bicep from his captor. There she was. The girl, his girl, his love... his life. "Hannah."

Then, laughter. The laughter Hannah had become so used to, as she drifted away from her captor and his violation of her. He could take her body, he would not get her heart... her mind, her soul. No, those belonged to Obi-Wan.

And now, he was here.

As her eyes focused on the familiar, hansome face, she panicked. He was captured too. Now who was going to rescue her?!

He spoke again. "Hannah!" It was more insistent this time, and the girl realized that she must be a sight, naked and battered and thoroughly broken on the cold concrete, staring up at him like some terrified animal trapped in a cage.

Oh, it was all true.

More laughter from their captor—how quickly he became their captor—and Obi-Wan was pushed into the cage, the iron door rattled and slammed behind him. A deep, malicious voice.

"Soon, my pretty one. Soon will be play time, don’t you worry. And now, your beloved Jedi gets to watch."

Then, descending footsteps and Obi-Wan scrambling to her, his warm, familiar presence wrapping her to his body despite the shackles binding his hands.

There were no shackles on Hannah’s hands. She was too drugged and weak to protest. But Obi-Wan, he was strong. He had the answers. He had to. And if he didn’t—well, she just might have to kill him or herself to keep the horror from becoming unbearable.

"Say something to me, please, sweetheart," Obi-Wan begged, his voice immediately cracking with emotion. It was hard—too hard—to see her like this, obviously struggling to remain sane, or perhaps struggling against it.

She tried to obey his wishes, didn’t she always say she’d do anything for him? Anything in her power. There was the clause.

Could she find it in her throat to utter a word other than the only ones she’d uttered since she’d been captured? Please. No. An impermeable gullet seemed to forbid it, but the man wrapped strong arms tighter around her. Maybe. Maybe she could.

"...Obi-...Wan."

It was a struggle, but triumph. Okay, so it was his name, but she’d done it. He seemed to appreicate it, as the flood of tears unleashed, startling Hannah so badly she lifted her head and stared at him as though he was an alien with two heads.

The grieving man didn’t seem to mind, even managed his impermeable smile, charming in all ways, as he sniffled back his tears. Perhaps by habit, he tried to bring his hands up to cradle his lover’s face but the shackles wouldn’t allow it, and he could only manage a half-witted grip on the back of her head, stroking, holding, comforting—well, trying to.

Hannah’s eyes widened at the contact, and reality crashed in on her—Obi-Wan was in here, which meant he was not out there, which meant he was not available to rescue her. He’d undoubtedly been attempting to do just that when he was captured, which was bad for obvious reasons but good for reasons not quite so obvious—that somehow he’d found out where she was, and he hadn’t, most likely, come alone.

Jedi always traveled in pairs...didn't they? He couldn't be gone for long without Qui-Gon noticing...could he? And where the hell was the Force when he needed it now?

And she found her voice. Where it had gone, Hannah didn’t know—but it didn’t matter because it was back. She had to warn him about what was going to happen, what he was about to witness. She knew because it had happened every night prior, though she’d lost count at just how many times because it was too sick to even stay in the moment, and somehow she couldn’t give her captor the satisfaction.

Truthfully, she’d often wanted to make her captor so mad that he killed her, because that would be infinitely better than enduring his machinations.

But it never worked, and he was mad enough to beat and humiliate her but never quite mad enough to kill her. And so it just hurt. Deep, deeper, until she couldn’t do anything but NOT feel the pain, sort of like when you put your hand under water so hot it feels cold.

The words just came tumbling out of Hannah’s mouth, drawing a small chuckle from the young Jedi, although she knew he really didn’t have much to laugh about right now. She didn’t feel the confidence eminiating from him that she normally did and that unnerved her.

"Love," was the reply, that smooth, soft ‘love’ that he often used, because he knew it both calmed and pacified the girl in the height of rough times, although now, Obi-Wan supposed, all the ‘loves’ in the world weren’t going to unlock that iron gate and rattle it on open for them to waltz out of there.

"I don’t want you to worry, okay?" It was almost a futile statement but hell, it was Obi-Wan. "I don't have the Force...I can't feel it in here, I think they drugged me or something... but Qui-Gon will find us soon enough and get us out of here, I promise you."

The way Obi-Wan talked, it always amused Hannah, though she wasn’t laughing now. The accent... so proper, each word so pronounced as though it were important all on its own. Other words accompanying it just being there, for company, never seeming like they need each other to make sense.

The way he always said, ‘I promise you’ and Hannah had often had reason to doubt it before—like right before he’d go on a particularly dangerous mission—it was always accompanied with "I’ll be okay, I promise you." She’d doubted it then and she doubted it now, although had to remind herself that each time before he’d made good on his promise, he always was okay, and he’d always achieve what he set out to do... although he’d set out to save her apparently and that hadn’t worked out quite so well, now had it?

Hannah knew her mind was a little skewed at this point, it was very hard to think coherently with all the drugs running around her system, but she knew as much as the sun had set that night that she would be raped again, and this time the diseased captor would make Obi-Wan watch, which would just ruin them both, she knew it.

"I’m gonna—" The words were there but they wouldn’t surface, instead a sob choked her throat and Hannah slumped against her counterpart, tears dampening his tunic quickly. Each painfully loud sob wracked her entire frame, shaking her body to the core and squeezing her heart so tightly she had to gulp for breath.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, trying not to collapse into cries with her, but it was impossible to shield his heart from the breaking. One by one, piece by piece, Obi-Wan felt his heart fall into his stomach as it broke for the woman he loved, who was reduced to her lowest, most desperate hour, wailing naked and bruised in his shackled arms.

Someone had to get them the hell out of there. Qui-Gon, where are you? His mind raced a mile a minute, but no answers came. The Force was completely empty here...it unnerved him fully. Not having the Force was like not having a limb, he depended on it to guide everything he did. It was clear that the more seconds that ticked by, the higher the chances were that their captor would come back and force Obi-Wan to watch as he did horrifying things to Hannah.

His sweet, beautiful, young Hannah.

Way too young to be experiencing this kind of pain, though Obi-Wan knew she was strong, and had experienced much pain in her life; not like this, never like this, and he couldn’t do enough to save her from it.

Sudden self-loathing enveloped him, and he hated his miserable existence, because it was his job to protect her, it was what he was sworn to do. Every time he said he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, he’d rather die than anything happen to her, that was negated by the four days she’d spent here, being raped, abused, terrorized and humiliated. She might never recover from this and it would be his fault.

"Shh, stay with me love, you gotta stay strong for me..." Obi-Wan soothed, although he wasn’t quite sure if he was saying it for her benefit or for his own.

The wrenched sobs quieted slightly and Hannah rubbed her face against the now-dampened fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic. Turning her head slightly she pressed her cheek against him, listening to the strong beat of his heart. It soothed her, like a child against a mother’s breast, and it took everything in her power not to slip into inviting unconsciousness until someone woke her up from this nightmare.

"Obi-Wan, I have to tell you..."

Hannah’s voice sounded foreign inside her own head but she forced herself to continue, lifting her head reluctantly from the safe haven of Obi-Wan’s chest and meeting his eyes for a brief moment before lowering them to the floor.

The tears came again, faster this time, as though all the pent up emotion she’d refused to show for four long days and three longer nights was coming to a head. She feared it would never stop. She wouldn’t show emotion while he was raping her, not tonight in front of Obi-Wan and not any night, ever. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

youcantakemybodybutnotmysoulyoucantakemybodybutnotmysoulyoucantakemybody...

"He’s going to rape me and make you watch."

The words rushed out in one heart-wrenching sob. Obi-Wan heard them clearly, and even though he knew before she’d said it, it hurt to hear, perhaps it hurt him worse to know what it would do to her than what it would do to him. He could always close his eyes but she could not escape the pain, the violation.

"I’m not going to let him hurt you anymore."

It came out before Obi-Wan could stop it, on instinct, to protect her with everything he was. He couldn’t fathom someone hurting her and getting away with it while he was in the same room. It just wasn’t supposed to happen, he couldn’t let it happen. It went against everything he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was.

If he wasn’t scared before, he was now.

She must have known he would say it, but she reacted anyway, flinging herself away from him with undeniable fury, so startling that he could only look down at the now-empty circle his shackled hands made where she used to be.

"You don’t get a say, Obi-Wan!" she yelled, voice still hoarse but undeniably lounder than she’d spoken in days. "Don’t you get it? That’s the beauty for him! You aren’t gonna like it and he’s still gonna do it! That gives him the power!" Breath coming in shortened gasps. "Every night, he comes in here, and he does whatever it is that he does to me. Do you know that I don’t even recall the rapes? The only way I know they happen is because of the blood, and the pain afterwards. I shut myself down! I can’t give him the satisfaction of penetrating my mind too!"

Another sob. More tears. But Hannah wouldn’t let herself break again. She’d become too emotional. Too damn open. "I say to myself over and over and over, he can take my body but not my heart...not my soul. Those—" Tight voice, constricted throat. "Those are yours Obi-Wan."

Silence all around the wretched cage.

Wounded, broken, Obi-Wan moved toward Hannah. "Oh sweetheart," he breathed, wondering how he would live through this. Even this conversation was torture. Thinking about it made him want to put a blaster to his head and pull the trigger. He knew that was not the way of the Force, not an acceptable way to think as a Jedi but here, he wasn't a Jedi, he was helpless and weak and nothing he was taught he should be. The pain, the torture, everything that was wrong and corrupt happening to the only woman he’d ever loved.

She crawled to him, meeting him halfway and nestling herself back into his chained arms, not crying, not moving, just being close to him, taking what comfort in that she could. It was hard to take comfort in anything anymore; not the last thrust before her captor released himself inside of her, signaling the end of the night’s violation, not the descending of his heavy footsteps down the hallway and the knowledge that she wouldn’t see him again for at least eighteen hours, and certainly not the shackled grasp of her helpless lover who was about to watch her be violated, a fate worse than what she’d endured before.

"Don’t hate me," was all she could manage, a helpless plea begging for his forgiveness, his mercy.

That was Obi-Wan’s undoing. Fury coursed through him, shaking him to his very core. He felt the white-hot fire tearing through his veins, crawling in and out and through his body, drenching him, soaking him, until it seeped from his pores. It was the Dark Side.

"I will never hate you, ever Hannah." His voice was so deep it surfaced as a growl, the anger so obvious in his tenor that the scared, abused girl retracted slightly from his grip.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, pulling her back quickly, lightly stroking her back as best he could with restrained hands. "I’m sorry," he whispered, taking great pains to erase any trace of fury from his voice although it was clouding his mind so badly that he could barely see.

Ignoring the bright red flashes that clouded his vision and threatened to cloud his brain, Obi-Wan continued. "No matter what happens, know that I love you and this is not your fault," he commanded. He tried desperately to keep his voice soft, but it surfaced firm anyway, although he was glad to hear that he was not betraying his anger as much.

Hannah choked another sob but didn’t allow it to surface to her throat. She was feeling a little more clarvoyant now, a sinking feeling entering her stomach as the realization hit her—this was going to happen, and Obi-Wan knew—and she knew she had to ask for his help. It was the only way to get through it and remain sane, and even that was questionable deep in the recesses of her mind.

"I need you to do something for me," the girl managed, feeling the nausea surface as the outer door clanked open and the footsteps began to descend.

Time was running out.

"Don’t watch, Obi-Wan, please. No matter what, don’t watch."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. The footsteps echoed in his ears and blasted through his head, like the worst kind of headache multiplied by a thousand. "I don’t think I could," he whispered, reality slamming odwn on him like a ton of bricks, this really was happening, she was going to get raped, probably brutally so, in front of him, and there wasn’t going to be a damn thing he could do about it.

But he would try. Damn it, he would try with every ounce of strength he had, because he’d rather die than have Hannah experience one more second of depreciating torture. So, if those were his choices, hasta la vista cruel world.

Then, a thought occured to him, and he realized that she was wriggling from his grasp, although he wasn’t quite sure why. Obi-Wan clutched at her urgently and commanded attention to him, holding her with his blue eyes, meeting the most sorrowful, pitiable green ones he had ever seen.

"Unless, if you have to—if it helps to look at me, look at me, and I’ll help you, I will, I’ll love you through it, I swear I will—"

Shaking fingers pressed to his lips and Hannah gave a sad, knowing smile and a quick nod as the cage door rattled. Her captor was there. It was time. She had to go away in her mind now if she was to do it at all.

"I’m going now," she whispered, as though he would understand, and maybe he would—not right now but eventually. Perhaps eventually.

The last she heard was that laughter, the malicious glee their captor would take in his defilement of everything Obi-Wan and Hannah were, before she slipped into blackness.

Obi-Wan watched Hannah carefully, and he saw something change in her eyes, like she’d slipped away from all reality. It scared him at first, but then he realized... and he was proud. She was doing what she had to do to survive. That was his Hannah. Strong, even when it seemed like she couldn’t be; even when it seemed like there was nothing to be strong for.

As the wretched creature stepped into the cell, he rubbed his hands together, his eyes devouring the naked girl at his feet. Obi-Wan felt all reason escape from his body and any plan of remaining calm and in control (not that there ever was one) flew right out the window. He launched himself at the vile man, disregarding the fact that since he had no control of his hands and no control of the Force, he was virutally defenseless.

It didn’t matter. Obi-Wan didn’t need defense. Hannah did. And damn it, they weren’t going down without a fight. Pummeling the captor as hard as he could, Obi-Wan brought them both down with a great thud and realized just how much the concrete floor hurt. He didn’t care, releasing an angry cry of defiance before evil personified hurled Obi-Wan like a rag doll across the cell, and he landed with a deep grunt against the stone wall.

It took a moment for Obi-Wan to come back to reality and when he did, he wished he hadn’t. Their captor was hauling Hannah across the floor, to the center of the room, the very exact center, Obi-Wan realized, and laying her out. Preparing her.

Obi-Wan felt sick. He managed to get up again, and this time taking a running start before leaping like a savage animal, tackling the captor from behind. They sprawled to the ground, mere inches from Hannah, yet still she lay there, unmoving, unblinking, completely unresponsive.

The captor wasn’t, however, and he screamed out a curse, using both his arms—a considerable advantage over the other—to haul himself up, Kenobi still clamped onto his back, and shake him wildly, effectively tumbling him to the ground. Obi-Wan realized he’d rolled right into Hannah’s path, and he used this to his advantage, blocking her body with his as the captor advanced again, his teeth bared, growling primitively.

Backing away, using his body to push the girl further and further from their predator, Obi-Wan realized that they were severely outmatched. Their captor stood, suddenly calm, towering above their huddled forms. Obi-Wan was surprised when Hannah scurried to her feet and tucked herself into the corner, knees pressed to bare, bruised chest. He looked behind him and the captor attacked, siezing Obi-Wan by the collar and lifting him almost three feet off the ground.

"Your sweet little girlfriend will be punished even more than you can imagine for this, Kenobi. You are a stupid, stupid man."

With that, the captor flung him against the wall, and Obi-Wan landed with a loud crash, his head slamming painfully against the stone. Pain exploded behind his right eye and the cell began to swim before him. He tried to cry out as he saw the man lope toward his Hannah—my Hannah!--but it only surfaced in his head, without time to reach his lips before he blacked into nothingness.

The captor grabbed the girl roughly by her hair, dragging her once again to the center of the room. The exact center, he was careful about that. He set to work, preparing her. Arms spread at exactly 45 degree angles, legs mirroring. She’d lost weight since he’d first brought her here, and she was scarred and bruised in even the most intimate of places.

But she was still beautiful. So very beautiful.

The most beautiful.

Slapping her several times in attempt to rouse her to consciousness, though he knew it was pointless, her head lulled from side to side, but she refused to come to. It was growing tiresome, fucking this lifeless rag doll... but she was so very very beautiful.

He wanted her to cry, to scream, in agony, extacy, it didn’t matter.

But she refused. And what should he expect, the girlfriend of the stubborn, stupid little Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Tilting his head, he glanced back at the Jedi. He was out of it. Too bad. It would have been so much fun fucking his girlfriend while he was forced to watch. But now he wasn’t going to be watching anything. Perhaps he’d come back later, when Kenobi was conscious again. This time he wouldn’t be sloppy. This time he’d chain the arrogant prick to the wall so he could do nothing but squirm. And watch.

The loose robes fell from his body like rain and he stood there, completely nude, muscled and hardened. Oh the anticipation. It was the most glorious part. And no one to enjoy it. Pity. He thought tonight would be different. But perhaps later.

A hand trailed down his flat, muscle ridden stomach and stroked the hard flesh he found there. Yes, yes, that’s it. Just like that little Hannah. His eyes fell closed and his breathing shallowed as he manipulated himself, readying the rigid firmness for his coveted treasure.

Even in the deep subconscious Hannah slipped herself into, part of her was still painfully aware of when her violator entered her. She tried to keep herself hidden away, but the bile rose in her throat and she could feel each stalwart movement, each hideous thrust, each repulsive grunt.

Time ticked slowly by. Too slowly.

Her mind wandered. To freedom, to home, to friends, to Obi-Wan.

Then she remembered. He was there. Oh god, he was there. He—was—watching.

Then it was over. She hadn’t even felt the ejaculation, or heard the sated groan. She hadn’t felt his weight slump forward, then release. She hadn’t heard him reclothe or leave the room. Suddenly, he was just gone. She came to clarity the way she usually did, bleeding, naked, in the exact center of the room, arms and legs at 45 degree angles.

Sick fuck.

Curling her battered body into a tight fetal position, Hannah reached to the side and turned herself, gagging and coughing until it felt like her stomach would explode. It was only then that she noticed Obi-Wan. He was slumped against the far wall of the cell, bleeding pretty badly from a cut on his head. He was definitely unconscious.

Her current situation forgotten, Hannah crawled to the ailing man ignoring the pain shooting through her womb. She reached him, her knees sliding in the congealing blood that was pooling near his head. Obi-Wan, oh baby, please be alive, please be alive... Not that it would matter unless they were rescued right now, she realized. Their captor certainly wasn’t going to break a sweat helping him.

Somehow though, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t think about the future, she could only think about right now and right now he had to be alive. If he wasn’t—well he had to have something on him, perhaps his belt buckle, that would make her demise quick and easy.

A quick brush of his chest told her that he was, indeed still alive. Further inspection of his head revealed that the wound was not that deep, located at the back of his head just above his left ear. Hannah tried desperately to get his tunic off, intent on pressing it against the wound to stop the bleeding, but she wasn’t strong enough to lift him. Instead, she shook him. He was going to have to lift himself.

"Obi-Wan..." Again, her voice sounded strange surfacing on the air. Weird, because it sounded perfectly normal in her head. "Obi-Wan, wake up."

Nothing. Hannah was getting tired. She took a breath and shook him even harder. "Damn it, wake up!"

Finally, a stir. Then a groan. Oh god, he was in pain. Maybe she shouldn’t have woken him up. Another groan. Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered, and it took a few moments for him to focus. When he did, blinking several times at the face looming before him—Hannah, my Hannah—he reached up to stroke her, only then realizing he was shackled.

And it all came slamming back. So hard, his head pounded. Something revealing an anguished cry ripped from his throat as he realized what had just happened. They were trapped in some kind of cell, he was shackled, bleeding, he couldn't feel the Force, and worst of all, couldn’t stop Hannah from being raped. He’d tried, god he’d tried, but the tell tale streaks of blood down her bare legs told him that he had not succeeded.

Tears wrenched themselves from his eyes and he launched forward, babbling apologies and regrets until he could barely breathe, much less speak. Hannah held his limp form, his head bleeding into her lap, and waited for him to finish. She knew it was selfish, knew it would be right to comfort him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him it was okay that she was raped, although she knew it wasn’t his fault. But somehow, she couldn’t find it in her to pardon anything.

Finally, with a stifled sob and obvious effort, Obi-Wan righted himself and winced in pain. "My head---"

Hannah nodded, indicating his tunic with a weak arm. "I can’t get your tunic off, but you need it to cover your cut. It’s bleeding pretty bad." She looked down at the blood congealing against her skin. She couldn’t tell which was his and which was hers now. Though she supposed it didn’t matter. It was fitting. They would die here together.

Obi-Wan held up his shackled hands. "I can’t, you’d have to rip it."

Hannah sighed. "I can’t." It was all she said. An air of finality surrounded the words, as though she’d resigned herself that they would simply die. Obi-Wan could understand the sentiment, and he certainly would rather die than her get raped again. But he couldn’t accept it so easily. For some reason, he couldn’t.

But it was too late. Hannah retreated to the opposite corner of the room, trembling as she slunk up against the cold stone wall. Knees were drawn to chest, arms wrapped around knees, making herself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Her forehead touched her knees and she wept.

"Hannah."

She wouldn’t answer. Obi-Wan tried again, louder. "Hannah." Still, no answer. "Hannah." Louder. "Hannah." Louder. "Hannah!"

With each desperate cry, Hannah retreated further and further back into her safe world. Safe, of course, being a relative term. It depended on how much her mind betrayed her that particular episode. This time, it didn’t seem to betray her at all. So she didn’t feel it when Obi-Wan scooted over to her, slipped his restrained arms around her slight form and held her close to him. She didn’t feel it when he cried into her hair, soaking the matted strands with what seemed like a neverending river of tears. And she didn’t hear when he resigned himself to chanting I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry over and over and over until the words blended together and Obi-Wan himself couldn’t make rhyme nor reason out of them.

Obi-Wan barely heard the fighting at the end of the hall. He barely recognized the furious yelling as Qui-Gon's until the great Jedi appeared at the bars, fiddling with small keys in big hands. In fact, it wasn't until Qui-Gon shouted so loudly bringing Obi-Wan slamming back to the present that he even acknowledged the other.

The captured Jedi tried to get to his feet but couldn’t so easily, weakened by loss of blood and held down by the dead weight that Hannah had suddenly become. He stumbled then lowered himself again, perhaps listening to his Master who was telling him to sit tight.

Perhaps not. When Qui-Gon finally got the small keys in an even smaller lock, Obi-Wan struggled against his constraints again, trying to stand, to run, to do something.

Qui-Gon grabbed his Padawan, releasing him from his battered girlfriend and using the keys he held to unlock the shackles. Once free, Obi-Wan immediately went to Hannah and attempted to pick her up, but was so weakened by his head wound she merely slipped from his grip.

"Obi-Wan, what happened?" Qui-Gon asked, grimacing at the sight of the once reticent beauty stripped naked and vilified, obviously battered severely both physically and mentally. He shed himself of his cloak and wrapped it gently around the girl’s body, lifting her easily into his arms then holding out an elbow to help his Padawan stand. The Jedi Master took notice of his apprentice's refusal to answer his question.

Qui-Gon didn’t blame him.

The two loped toward the entrance, Obi-Wan considerably slower than his counterpart, eyes squinting with obvious effort to counter blurry vision. Qui-Gon inquired about his ability to walk, but the younger Jedi simply waved him off, gesturing toward the girl in his Master's arms, an expression that clearly said you have your hands full, Master.

The sound of blaster fire and rapid footsteps stopped them at the edge of the hallway. "There’s a back door to the east!" Obi-Wan said quickly, surprised that his memory was serving him despite the fact that he was having a hard time even walking. Someone had told him once that adrenaline kicks in when you’re in trouble, and you suddenly have reserves of strenght you never thought you’d have, strength that you physically shouldn’t have. He only hoped his adrenaline held out until they were safe.

They’d get out of here, or they’d die trying, Obi-Wan decided. He voiced as much to his Master as Qui-Gon gently transferred the cloak-covered girl to his apprentice's arms, using both hands to steady the younger once they were free. He used the Force in effort to wear off some of the drugs that were clouding Obi-Wan's ability, but the attempt was rejected and Obi-Wan shook his head, impatient.

"I'll worry about the Force later," he insisted. "Let's just get out of here."

Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and led the way, Obi-Wan using every ounce of energy he could find in himself despite the lightness in his head to follow close behind.

Ten yards...five yards...

Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon duck out the door and felt instant relief wash over him. Three yards...

A barrage of blaster fire errupted. Obi-Wan jumped the last few feet clutching madly to Hannah and felt the heat of bullets wing past his feet. He slammed the heavy iron door shut when he was inches clear of it, and listened to the bolts ping off the barrier. Sagging against it, he moaned. Hannah shifted in his arms, but remained unconscious.

His head began to throb, and his vision began to cloud, but Kenobi desperately tried to hold on. He blinked, rubbing his hand against his sweat and blood streaked face. He could hear Qui-Gon shouting to him, or was it to the pilot? He hand no idea what his Master was saying.

One thing was for certain. He could smell the jet fuel. Indeed, the shuttle was up and running. Qui-Gon rumbled again, then seemed to appear at his side from nowhere. Suddnely, the familiar face and blue eyes were directly in front of him. Large hands groped at his pounding head.

"Master—head—not—ow..."

Obi-Wan knew what he was trying to say, but his tongue felt thick in his mouth. He couldn’t put the words togehter to form a coherent sentence. His head lulled. Qui-Gon glanced at the ship, then at the perimeter. They were alone, but wouldn’t be for long. The blaster fire had retreated from the time locked iron door, which meant their pursuers had realized they couldn’t get through once the door shut, and they’d be coming from another way any minute now.

He said as much to his Padawan, this time in a tone of voice that didn't give room for question. "We must go now, Obi-Wan. I will carry Hannah."

Holding on to his lover for dear life, Obi-Wan shook his head no. He blinked twice, clearing the haze that had settled before his eyes. With effort, he stood, allowing Qui-Gon to hold onto one arm as they sprinted toward the ship.

Fin.

Yes, it ends out of nowhere, but it started out of nowhere too... ;-) Anyway, let me know what you thought. kenobijedione@yahoo.com