Why?
A simple question, it would seem - only a simple, insignificant word. But that one, lonely syllable had always fascinated Count Octavius Dooku. Perhaps it was because to know why was to gain control. Nevermind how; once why was understood, it followed tamely after... Like so many of Qui-Gon Jinn's pathetic life forms.
The creatures that had bitten Dooku, but continually adored his apprentice.
Yes, Qui-Gon had been an enigma, in more ways than one. And all these cold years later, Dooku was left holding his tainted, fading memories and wondering, why?
Maybe, the question returned to him again and again because the answers were so often elusive. So many, many things demanded an explanation that was simply never found. Like Qui-Gon Jinn. Why had slipped through Dooku's powerful fingers. He had never truly understood his old padawan, even when Qui-Gon lay dead and Dooku cursed the stagnancy of the the complacent Order. Across time and space and darkness and pain and ineffable power, the single, quiet word whispered into his mind.
Why?
And in the very silent place of his own heart, a shadow of an answer burned Octavius Dooku.
Love.
He knew that love was powerful - he had seen it's effects: ruined worlds, hope pulled somehow from despair, inviolate happiness, broken souls, a shadow of Light.
Of course, some of this might have been the the mark of anger.
The two were so closely linked.
Truly, Dooku had been ...attached to his apprentice, but it had not been love. He simply could not fathom putting himself at risk for another being. It could never have been worth the pain.
But still... The question haunted him. Why? Why love? One risked so much of one's own heart. And Dooku would know - risk meant pain. Even so, everywhere he turned, he saw people caring and being cared for. Not just mindless fools, but wise, capable people like Kenobi.
Skywalker had done nothing to earn a place in his grandpadawan's heart. In fact, the reverse was true! But there he was, whether or not Kenobi noticed. And Dooku could not, would not understand...
Somewhere in the very empty place of his almost-dead heart, Count Octavius Dooku pondered the eternal question.
Why?
My first fic! To any fellow nerds: I'm not sure if Dooku's cannon first name is Octavius; it may or may not be head-cannon. I don't remember. :/ Feedback would be lovely.
~Flame