Coalesced Matter
Mirror and Image
He was alone for the day. Once in a while he made a point of giving his staff a unanimous day off. This served several purposes, showing kindness for their lives, showing he wasn't dependent on them, and above all, giving him privacy.
It was on these days when he was alone that he would sweep his property for any sort of spying devices. Every time he turned up none; he was disappointed as it meant he was still far from his objective. At least if he found such devices he would know he had someone's attention at last.
But this day was like all previous.
No signs, however, didn't mean he wasn't productive.
At that moment, he was in his study. The room was elegant and tasteful, but underlying that, it was a room set up with nothing but pragmatism in mind. No one knew this; they only saw a sense of style that called to mind high stature without being overpowering.
What no one realized was that this was the style of a Jedi.
No extra, no greed, but pragmatism, set forth in elegance. Finery with a purpose.
The Jedi opened a secret compartment of his simple yet handsome desk and pulled out a comm. He checked for messages from the Temple, found none, and sat back. He was only seven months into this assignment. He didn't really expect any word. Still, he took the time to compose and send a report. He suspected he was getting close to someone who could lead him to his objective, the Force whispered of opportunity, but things remained the same.
He was drawing up a draft of a message for Yoda, to see how a particular trial was going (the fourth attempt at prosecuting) when his comm. beeped.
Surprised, he turned and activated it.
"Help!" came a staticy cry. No visual, only sound. "My Padawan and I have crashed on Mugar. We are injured and trapped by the local civil war. Please send help; our coordinates are..."
The message warbled through the coordinates before completely cutting out.
He frowned severely. He was only two days away at lightspeed and he had barely gotten the message. The Temple would never receive it. Plus, he was the only Jedi in the area. He had made sure of that.
That meant he needed to help them.
He sighed at the inconvenience of it. No doubt he could resend the message, but it might take a week to get to the planet from Coruscant and by then, the Master and Padawan could be worse off.
He would need to find a plausible excuse for his absence. Travel alone would be four days, to say nothing of finding the Jedi on the planet. If their comms gave such a weak signal, there was the chance he'd have to get involved in the war himself to even find them. Then he'd have to start his mission from scratch.
Sighing, he set about organizing things, fabricating a message on his "home" comm. about a family emergency, which was true from a certain point of view, and leaving instructions for his staff. For all that he was questioning things about the Republic and the Jedi, he was still a Jedi. No one else would help, but he could and so he would.
He stayed in high orbit, claiming the need for repairs to Mugar's pathetic authorities who were more like guerillas than an actual government. They were suspicious and boarded him to search for contraband that he might be smuggling to their enemy, but he suffered through it with grace and dignity. They escorted him to the surface to get supplies and from there it was simplicity itself to suggest they had other duties and back it up with the Force.
Once he was again alone, he activated his comm., hoping the missing Jedi's was still functional.
"Hello missing Jedi. I am here to help."
"It's about time!" came the young voice of what had to be the apprentice.
"Padawan!" was the Master's retort. "Hello, I am Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi with my Padawan Anakin Skywalker. We are safe for now, but not much longer."
For a brief moment, his very soul stilled. Images flashed across his mind before he ruthlessly put it away. "I have your location," he replied, none of his inner turmoil in his voice. "I am on my way."
"And what's your name?" the Padawan demanded.
"... Jedi Master Dooku."
Now that Dooku had the coordinates of his Padawan's Padawan, he had no problem appropriating a speeder, clunky and dilapidated as it was, and heading to where young Kenobi and his Padawan were hiding.
Heading there wasn't the problem. No, just getting there was problematic.
When Kenobi had said that they were trapped by the local civil war, it wasn't an exaggeration. If anything, it was an understatement. As Dooku approached and started to scan the area, he saw blaster fire, missiles flying through the air, earth being upended. In what had once been a vast vista of savannah, a small Republic shuttle was indeed crashed and all around it the authorities of the planet and their rivals were... disagreeing over who had possession. It was easy to see that the shuttle had been taken by both sides at various points of the conflict over the past two days, as the attempted drag marks in the tall purple grasses indicated.
From Dooku's vantage point, he had no idea how Kenobi and his Padawan had even survived the battle. There had been mention of injuries, but not what extent. Clearly both were conscious and coherent, but if mobility were a problem, Dooku would need to figure out a different way.
Still, the best option was to wait for nightfall and use the darkness to obscure his movements.
He settled back into his speeder and waited, listening to blaster fire, explosions, and the telltale whistle of ordinances. He double-checked his supplies and the medkit, uncertain what he'd be coming upon. Kenobi had made it clear that one of the sides was tracing their comm., likely due to the patch job they had to do just to get it to work, so Dooku didn't risk contact to check their status.
An hour after true dark, Dooku dropped the hundred meters from his vantage point and pulled up his hood, keeping his supplies hidden in the masking flow of his robes.
When he reached the coordinates, however, he held back a curse with another shell exploding overhead. They weren't there and from the looks of things, their hiding spot, in the crater of an explosion, had been uncovered and they had vacated it quickly. At his feet was a destroyed comm. and dirty bandages.
Frowning severely, Dooku cast out his senses; looking for the brightness of Force-sensitive people and used that to guide him through the mines and blaster fire, ducking from one bush to the next. As he approached, between the concussive cacophony around him, he called out Kenobi's name, hoping to hone in that way.
No answer came, but Dooku still followed the Force and the bright signature of one who was strong with it.
What he came upon was... not what he was expecting.
In the tall purple grass, clearly having flown some distance from one of the many explosions going on around them, a Jedi in torn robes was wrapped around the form of a child. The Padawan was looking around unable to focus, as he repeating something under his breath.
Dooku crept forward and knelt beside the pair, trying to sense the severity of the injuries in the chaos around him, and pulling out medscanners and bacta patches for whatever could be dealt with quickly. It would be a long walk back to his speeder as it was.
The Padawan saw his motion and a weak Force-wave pushed at Dooku.
"It's all right, youngling," he said softly. "I am Dooku."
"Dooku..." the boy replied, eyes still roaming around. "Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan... Answer me... Obi-Wan..."
Dooku carefully placed his hand on the child's head. "You are concussed, youngling. Try and focus on my voice."
"But... Oobi-Wan..."
"I am checking him now."
"Tried to save me... Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan..."
"You're master is unconscious," Dooku said softly, looking over Kenobi. "Broken arm... Both it seems."
"'Cause of me... Obi-Wan..."
"This war is hardly your fault," Dooku replied, using the Force to check for any sort of head injuries. "These idiots around us would find a different reason to fight. They were primed and ready before you even entered the system."
"Obi-Wan... said that too... Obi-Wwan..."
"Then you have a wise master," Dooku replied, feeling around Kenobi's torso for any broken ribs or damaged organs. "Can you understand me, youngling?"
"Obi-Waan," the child almost whined. He looked to Dooku. "Help Obi-Wan."
Dooku nodded. "He can walk, but I need to inject him with a hypospray to wake him up."
"Wake up Obi-Wan..." The Padawan took a moment to process that before agreeing. "Yes... wake up Obi-Waan..."
Dooku nodded. And set up his hypospray. The Padawan focused, at last, and watched Kenobi intently.
The knight started, then groaned and grunted as he tried to get his bearings. "Anakin," he whispered through clenched eyes and he dealt with the pain of his broken arms. "Anakin!" He pulled himself up to his haunches without the use of his arms somehow and looked down to his Padawan. "Anakin..."
"Obi-Wwaan," the youngling replied.
"We must hurry," Dooku interjected. "I will carry the boy. Can you keep up?"
Kenobi was still looking over his Padawan, but he nodded. "Let's get out of here."
With great care Dooku lifted the child into his arms, feeling Kenobi reaching for the Force and wrapping it around his Padawan in an attempt to heal. Dooku didn't comment, thinking that perhaps Kenobi should have seen to himself first, given that moving with two broken arms would be difficult.
Once the child was set in his arms and Kenobi was steady on his feet, Dooku nodded. It was time to leave.
It took the rest of the night to return to Dooku's rundown speeder. Kenobi's injuries were grievous and any kind of movement sent jolts of pain up his broken arms - this without the complication of avoiding exploding ordinance and avoiding scouting parties that were planning the next day's battle. Although, having said that, the young Jedi showed remarkable determination, setting his jaw with the resolve to get out of there, without slowing them down. The Padawan, even with a concussion, kept resolute eyes on his master, murmuring his name and soft phrases of comfort - to whom was debatable. Kenobi would catch the hard stare and, through his pain, smile at the boy.
The two breathed an audible sigh of relief when they made it to the speeder, until they realized it was on a hundred meter cliff. Dooku cast a measured gaze to Kenobi, uncertain if the young Jedi had the strength to make the jump or the mettle to make the climb.
It was surprising, then, when he watched the redhead close his eyes and take a deep breath. Dooku could feel the Force swirling around Kenobi, could feel the mental preparation.
Then he made the leap.
Dooku was hard pressed to follow, even his own tightly controlled exterior demanded a moment to stare before he, too, jumped the hundred meters. The boy, Skywalker, was squirming as he made the leap. "Landed bad," he murmured, and Dooku realized in half a thought the boy was talking about his master. When he crested the jump and landed he saw Kenobi sprawled on the ground, curled into himself as his arms lay useless and at odd angles, breathing erratic.
Skywalker struggled out of Dooku's grip and hopped to the ground, crawling to his master. "Obi-Wan," he murmured. "Obi-Waaaan."
"I'm all right, Anakin," the Jedi hissed.
"No, you're not!"
"Then I'll be all right, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, struggling to control his breathing.
"He will be once we reach my ship," Dooku said, taking charge of the situation. He was disconcerted enough to learn he had arrived to help his grand-Padawan, he didn't need overdramatic emotional drivel to drive him further off balance. It wasn't proper and besides, there was no time for it. "I assume you do not wish to delay that?" he asked, pointedly to the child.
The boy turned unfocused but furious eyes to Dooku, glaring at him in a perfect pout, but his master's labored breathing won out, and he pulled back slightly, letting Dooku help Kenobi up and place him on the speeder.
There was some trouble in leaving the planet, the ridiculously paranoid "authorities" wanting to search his ship again to search for contraband. With Kenobi and Skywalker on board, Dooku was disinclined to be so diplomatic this time around; given the vicious fight over just their space ship he didn't want to hazard a guess as to how the fighting would break out over his passengers, and so he simply told them he was in a hurry and jumped to lightspeed, dropping out several times and altering his course to lose them, before finally turning back to his "home," the planet of his latest assignment.
Once the cruiser was settled into autopilot, he leaned back in his seat to determine just how this new wrinkle would affect his plans and his assignment.
Kenobi was in no condition for the weeklong trek back to Coruscant. Technically he wasn't fit to travel now, but Dooku had had more than enough of that barbaric planet and refused to subject fellow Jedi to such savagery. They had suffered enough in that respect. However, he could not admit a pair of Jedi into any hospital on his planet; the overall opinion of Jedi was less than remarkable, even hostile. The entire sector was weary of anyone sensitive to the Force, and space only knew how or why Kenobi and his Padawan had ended up there. That left Dooku with far fewer options than he would have preferred.
The maid Dayu at his estate on Zeltrax had some medical knowledge, and Dooku himself knew a trick or two; and the house staff at large he had hand-picked - they knew how to be discreet. This did not mean that they were infallible, however, and Dooku had been betrayed once too often to trust anybody with anything important. He couldn't drag a Jedi and his Padawan onto his estate and not expect some sort of treachery, but any hospital on the planet would soon learn that Kenobi was a Jedi - between healing trances and incredibly fast healing properties, they would be suspicious, and Dooku could not afford the public at large to be suspicious, at least not until he was ready. His house staff, however...
"Where are we going?"
Dooku looked up to see the boy, Skywalker, had appeared in the cockpit and was staring at him balefully.
The Jedi master gave the boy a disapproving gaze, ignoring the question. Concussions healed notoriously quickly with Jedi once they were in a healing trance, and Kenobi had been more than happy to help his Padawan into one. Now healed, he had wisely stayed with his master while Dooku had negotiated his way off planet. It appeared, however, that good sense only lasted for so long.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Twelve."
Old enough to want to be treated like an adult, young enough that teen insurrection hadn't yet hit its stride. Wonderful.
"How fares your master?"
The boy glared. "He's still in a healing trance," he said. "He's sweating and hot to the touch. How long until we get where we're going and we can treat him properly?"
Dooku frowned. "I see young Kenobi has yet to teach you about attachment," he said, allowing some of the disappointment to show in his voice. Qui-Gon, you old fool, raising an apprentice as incompetent with attachment as Kenobi appeared to be. Did that apprentice, Xanatos, teach him nothing? Had Dooku, himself, taught him nothing? He sighed.
"Are you insulting my master?" Skywalker demanded, ire raising the pitch of his voice.
That caused an eyebrow to rise involuntarily, and he leveled a much harder look at the boy. "Be wary of your anger, child, lest it destroy you," he warned, power in his voice. Of all the - the impressive leap Kenobi had performed earlier was waning in his mind, a Jedi could have all the talent in the world with the Force but if he didn't teach it properly to the next generation what was the point? Dooku wanted to wash his hands of the pair all the more quickly before his own sources of irritation began burning again. He had taken this assignment to get away from the Jedi, to give himself time to think and work through the problems he had been having. The last thing he needed was further proof that the Jedi Order was rotting all around him.
The boy had closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths.
"Master Dooku," he said slowly, "I'm worried about the health of my master and wish to know where we are going so I can help. Could you please tell me?"
Dooku smirked. Much better.
"I was currently debating the matter of our final destination myself," he explained. "I am in the middle of a long-term undercover assignment and need to return there with utmost haste. However, the planet is not supportive of Jedi or the Force in general, and so depositing the two of you in a hospital there would be unwise."
The child nodded, frowning as the problem fermented in his mind. "Are there any medical stations near here?" he asked.
"I have not yet had the chance to look," Dooku said, and without further prompting the young Skywalker hopped onto the navigator seat and started working through menus, braid tucked behind his ear.
For the next hour the two looked through the databases, and Dooku became more and more convinced that this would have to be done on his own. He began mentally flicking through possible reasons for the two to return with him, what their cover stories would be. He couldn't just keep them for a week and send them on their way; with the message about family emergency and the overall cover he had created for himself, if he took them to his estate on Zeltrax there would be an expectation for an extended stay. The Jedi, too, couldn't just arrive and pick them up, either, the planet was xenophobic to begin with, and someone arriving out of the blue and leaving with Dooku's... whatever he decided for them for their cover, would raise suspicion. Suspicion he didn't need.
The entire adventure was turning into a headache; he should have just forwarded the message.
... Except that was not the Jedi way, and he would be damned if he acted as anything other than a Jedi. Someone had to hold true to the ideals, even if the Jedi themselves did not.
A deep, long, world-weary sigh escaped him and he once more leaned back in his seat.
He set course for Zeltrax and moved to the back cabins to check on Kenobi. There would need to be a lot of explaining to do.
In the two days it took for Dooku's private cruiser to make it to the planet Zeltrax, Kenobi had worked hard on healing himself as much as he could. Aside from his arms his injuries were light - well, light enough for healing trances to fix most of the damage, leaving him only slightly stiff. His right arm had only one crack and one break; the crack was significantly better and the break similarly had made progress. His left arm was another story, and so Dooku incorporated that into the cover he was developing.
When they entered orbit, Kenobi and his Padawan sat a perfect attention as Dooku explained what was about to happen.
"I am looking for a man on the planet," he said. "The entire system is quite nearly xenophobic, and terrified of the Force. I have gone undercover; no one knows I am a Jedi. Here I am Count Dooku, of the Devonshire continent. My holdings are modest by most measures on the planet; I have a staff who know nothing of my mission. When I left to rescue you I left them a message that I was handling a 'family emergency.' You two are the emergency."
"I'm not stupid," the boy said. "You don't have to break it down so much."
"Anakin," Kenobi said, shooting a quick glare. He turned back to Dooku. "How will we be related to you?"
"You are my grandchildren," Dooku said, internally smiling at the irony. "There was a speeder crash - obvious, given your injuries, Kenobi, in which your father, my son, was killed. Your mother was lost several years earlier. Currently you have nowhere else to go, and so I will take you in until better arrangements can be made and your recovery is assured."
Young Skywalker was still glaring but Kenobi offered a stout nod. "Is there anything about our mission that we should be aware of?"
"Only that it is my mission and you have no place in it," Dooku said. "I don't need the help of a Padawan struggling with undisciplined emotion, or a Knight who clearly hasn't shown his Padawan what to do with such."
"Yes, Master Dooku," Kenobi said quickly, forestalling the impending tantrum from young Skywalker. "I understand."
When they landed Dooku called for his chauffer, a woman who worked for chauffeuring company whose skills warranted Dooku making the company assign her to him. She was the only member of his staff that didn't live at his estate, but was easily the most talkative.
"Count Dooku!" she said brightly.
"Madame Trip," he greeted.
"You have passengers this time around," she said, eyeing Kenobi and Skywalker. She eyed the bandages and worn clothes. "And hurt, too. What happened?"
"I'll be holding a staff meeting as soon as we return home," Dooku said, swiftly walking past her. "Though I doubt this will affect you directly, I would like you to be there. Boys, let us be going."
"Yes, Grandfather," Kenobi said, walking stiffly after Dooku, Skywalker trailing behind and all three leaving Trip gaping at the title.
It took a full seven minutes for Trip to stop trying to wheedle answer outs of Dooku or Kenobi. Skywalker fared only slightly better, but only in the sense that he was asking questions of her, and she was more than happy to oblige. It served as a distraction for the whelp and gave Dooku time to call ahead. Benaag picked up promptly as expected.
"I hope your family emergency has concluded positively," he said, static garbling some of his beautifully cultured words.
"It has not," Dooku said. "We will have two guests for an indeterminate amount of time, and I want a staff meeting when we arrive to explain the circumstances. Dayu will be excused temporarily, because she will have to look after the guests to get them settled. Part of that, rather most of that, will require her medical expertise, if you'd be so kind as to inform her."
Benaag only lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. "As you wish, milord."
"Excellent. We will arrive presently."
"I understand."
They signed off and Dooku turned to his new grandchildren. Skywalker was still firing questions to Trip as she happily gossiped about local politics and families she drove for, giving glowing reviews of Dooku and that he was a joy he was to work for. Skywalker asked how she could work for him and others and not be part of a taxi service, which led to a heated dissertation on the difference between taxis and chauffeurs.
Kenobi sat as straight as he could, still stiff and trying to favor both of his arms. His eyes were closed, and Dooku could feel the hum of the Force around him. The boy was trying to... what? Dooku couldn't tell, but it was safe to assume he was trying to heal himself enough to deal with whatever he was expecting to find at the estate. Dooku mentally shrugged; he did not know Kenobi well enough to sift through his moods yet - that would likely come, a little, with the time they were about to spend together.
When they arrived, Dayu and Benaag were both waiting. The maid Dayu took one look at Kenobi, his arms bandaged and in slings, and put a hand on her hip as the other was holding a medkit.
"If I knew this was how you picked them I would have asked for more pay," she said, sour. "Why isn't he in a hospital?"
"You will be briefed completely later," he said, "Suffice to say I did not trust the hospital he came from. For now, show them to their quarters and get them settled."
"Right," Dayu said, blowing at her bangs. "Come on boys, I'll show you to your rooms."
"Rooms?" young Skywalker said. "As in plural?"
"Anakin-"
"I refuse," the boy said, his face pulling into a pout. Dooku was beginning to expect it was a common expression for him. "I'm not leaving Obi-Wan. He's my - he's my brother, and I don't want to be separated from him."
"You'll have to forgive him, Lady Dayu," Kenobi said quickly, wincing slightly. "He's acting out. We're both grieving. He can stay with me, he won't interrupt your ministrations; of that I can assure you."
"... Definitely asking for a pay raise," Dayu muttered, rolling her eyes and spinning around. "Come, I'll lead the way."
That left Dooku with his butler. They were cut from the same cloth, admirers of protocol and nobility and decorum. Benaag said nothing, as he didn't need to, and he led Dooku out of the foyer and into the drawing room, the informal location for house meetings. The chauffeur was already there as were the others.
"We will be having two additions to the house for the time being," Dooku said, "My grandsons: Obi-Wan and Anakin."
"So you do have kids!" the cook said, clasping her hands together. "You never spoke of them, so I was never sure. You'll have to tell me their favorites; I'll prepare them all tomorrow to make them feel welcome! How old are they? What are they like? Why are they here?"
"Tori," Benaag said, holding his head in irritation, "Please."
"What?" the woman said, defensive, "How can I be a good cook if I don't know these things? Hmm?"
The questions had merit, of course, but Dooku had allowed for that when he had been planning his cover for these two. He still hadn't sent a message to the Jedi, and he knew he would be asking for more backstopped information in his next transmission. He raised a hand to forestall further argument, and waited until silence reined.
"To answer your initial question, Madam Tori, I do not know their favorites. In point of fact, I had never met them until now." He watched their reactions, Benaag's raised eyebrow, Tori's flush of shock, Trip's open-mouthed gape, and even Anton's sharp look. He waited, playing the part of a man about to unearth a fact that was uncomfortable to him. He looked away, frowning, looking as though he were trying to control himself, and then turned his back to them before he began speaking. He had a rapt audience.
"I... had a son, once. A long time ago." He spaced his words carefully, drawing out the narration to make it sound difficult for him. "He was a brilliant man, bright and... inquisitive. Zeltrax was too small a planet for him, he thought our culture too restrictive and we... had a falling out."
He heard a sob from the cook Tori; she always wore her emotions on her sleeve, and as deplorable as that was the Jedi master understood it was the reason she was such an excellent cook. Benaag was reticent of course, Trip likely having her hands over her mouth to resist asking questions and the gardener Anton would pretend to be indifferent to the whole thing.
"He left the system. I knew he had married, but when I refused to go to his wedding we lost touch. The reason I was forced to leave was because I had learned that he has died."
"Oh!"
Died by the hands of a Sith, his life ripped from him like it was a worthless spark of the Force, and now Qui-Gon's killers were sailing through their fourth trial, proud of their impunity. His heart burned, and he fought to put it aside, to stick to the story. Perhaps it was a mistake to mirror the cover so tightly to the truth, but Dooku had feared young Skywalker's abilities for acting, and now there was no turning back. He took a deep breath.
"Their mother, I've learned, was lost several years ago. They have no one else."
He turned, offered a regretful face that wasn't completely fake, and saw Tori take several steps forward before stopping herself, knowing physical affection was frowned upon in this house. Her eyes were moist, but Dooku was spared the tears, thankfully.
"It... was an accident, Obi-Wan says," Dooku continued, working through his narrative after taking a deep breath. "Speeder crash. Anakin was not involved, and they contacted me to inform me of their circumstances. And so..."
"Does this mean, milord, that you have been... off planet?" Benaag asked, a skeptical look on his face.
Dooku met his eyes and did not flinch. "For the sake of my family, yes. Do not get me wrong, I loathe the galaxy and what it has become, I have no intention of involving myself in their corrupt political machinations and I certainly do not plan to leave the planet again. But..." He offered a frown, and a slight glance to the side. "For my family, I thought it worth the risk."
The two stared at each other for a long time, but ultimately the butler nodded his head. "I understand, milord," he said.
And the only hurdle Dooku had for this endeavor was passed. A smile bloomed in his mind but he kept from showing it, instead offering a restrained, grateful, nod.
He turned to Tori. "I would recommend a light menu tomorrow," he advised the cook. "Obi-Wan is still injured, and they have both been through an ordeal. I expect their appetites to be affected." He turned to Benaag. "Cancel my appointments for the next three days. It would appear that the word of the hour is 'adjustment.' I must take the time to get to know my grandchildren, and they must take the time to become acclimated to me. Anton, I suggest a new flower arrangement in my study. Something appropriate for recent events. In time, I'll have to arrange them to be introduced to the public, but I'd like to hold that off for now. Trip, you may go."
"Uh, yes, milord," she stuttered, still struggling to absorb the information.
"I would appreciate your discretion in this matter."
"Yes, yes of course, milord," she said, nodding her head. "Call me when you need me."
"I'll draw up a new schedule and submit it for your approval, milord, you may expect it in the next hour."
"Excellent."
"I'll get a thin soup going in the kitchen. I'll need to ask Dayu about any allergies they have when she's done. Anton, I'll be in the garden so don't try to chase me out."
"Just as long as I don't have to babysit," the gardener said bitterly.
Everyone dispersed, and Dooku allowed himself to take a deep breath before leaving for his study. He would need to draft a letter to the Jedi to explain his new wrinkle and to forward some information on Kenobi and Skywalker. The next three days would be very busy.
Authors' Notes: Well, what to say. This is our latest Star Wars work and, in a way, the culmination of an unintended study of Dooku. Waaay back when we were writing Simple Steps, as we explored Dooku's point of view, we became somewhat fascinated with him and his view on things. He remained noble, even as a Sith, and only ever joined the Sith because he wanted to change the Jedi, even if it meant being evil. It's part of the reason he ended up with a kinder death. When we started to write All But Name, Dooku arrived in the last arc and started to steal the show as we got a chance to really see him as a Jedi who isn't Light but isn't exactly Dark yet. It made such an interesting time in his life. Palpatine whispering in his ear, but decades of duty and belief in the Jedi that he saw stagnating around him.
And then this little nugget entered our brains. Naturally, even though the focus is on Dooku and the entirety of the story will be from his point of view, Obi-Wan and Anakin just had to drop in. They're cute like that. And, in a way, Obi-Wan and Anakin are a foil to point out where Dooku is struggling and where he's still standing firm. And then there are the dreams, but we'll get to those later. Hehehehe.
At any rate, this is going to be a short-ish story, even shorter than All But Name was. Still, it's all about character. That's the point.
As always, let us know what you think.