Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended,

That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream."

-Midsummer's Night Dream

In Memoriam By: Lady Erised

"Our lives are shaped

as much by those who leave us

as they are by those who stay.

Loss is our legacy..

Memory is our guide..."

- Hope Edelman

Prologue: Ante Bellum

Count Dooku lifted his eyes as the woman entered the room. Her face was downcast, with her hands brushing her forehead as if she was physically easing a headache. He lowered his cup, warily and watched her carefully; searching for any sign of weakness. She lingered by the couch, placing one hand over the fabric and leaning on it for strength.

The years had made a pretty girl into a beautiful woman. Her hair fell into a brown curtain over her shoulders, shielding her docile face from Dooku's view but he didn't need to look upon her face to know it. It was seared into his memory as his prize. Her eyes that held so much of her father's spirit were the same color as his- a mixture of jade and blue, resting against bronze colored skin, accented by a straight nose and thin lips. The face, that demanded nobility and respect kept it with quiet strength.

Strength that had once belonged to the Jedi, but now claimed by Dooku. The woman's body and mannerism still held the semblance of her training. A toned, muscular frame was barely hidden under her robes. Dooku turned his attention to the hand that was gripping the sofa, studying the fingers and the small, pale scars that dotted them. It wasn't right, he thought idly, that one so young and beautiful should have dedicated her life to the Jedi Order. Not when she was more useful to his purposes.

"You had another nightmare." It was not a question. Just a statement made in the quietest and deadliest of voice and the woman's inattention made her jump. Dooku stifled a smile, but was nonetheless pleased with this reaction. It was a subtle reminder of his control over her. He placed the cup down and rose from the table, advancing to her.

This caused those eyes to finally focused on him and even though her face held so sign of anxiety, the grip on the couch tightened. Her other hand fell from her brow to her stomach, as if she was protecting some weakness. She swallowed and stammered out a reply. "It's nothing. Something I ate last night must have not agreed with me, Count…I'm sorry."

"Hush, daughter." He cooed, feigning the sound of tenderness and love. He traced her arm, and smirked as she shied away from him. His very touch seemed to send terror through her body. "Just tell me, was it the same dream?"

And to think her father was one of the greatest Jedi…look at how pathetic she is now…

She was looking away from him now, head lowered and eyes staring obediently at the ground. Her lower lip was tucked in as she bit on it, no doubt to lend her some resolve where she felt none. Dooku had to laugh this time, but still his hands traced down her torso, under her breasts and down to were her ribs met her abdomen. There they rested on the object that had troubled Dooku since first he discovered it. It was a crescent-shaped scar as if she had been burned.

Or run through with a lightsaber and somehow survived.

And it was because of this mysterious scar, that Dooku knew, somewhere in the core of his being, that this creature before him would be dangerous to him and his Master. So, he took her, and molded her into an image he could use. He made the wealth of pain and doubt inside of her tools for his use. He taught her to speak in words he had chosen, to react to things how he would wish.

And now, he would use her to destroy the very thing that had made her his own.

"Dooku, you know I won't deny you anything…but are you sure about this?" She was asking. "The Republic is dying. We should be helping it…not destroying…"

"The Republic is the reason you are an orphan, child." He countered. "Or have you forgotten your father's death so quickly?"

"Of course not!" She said, allowing her voice to rise with her passion. She stepped away from him and strolled to the window. "But he was Jedi, as we were once. He died for that, didn't he?" She bowed her head. "After all this time, all that has passed…isn't time to let go of all the hate? Can't we go back to…"

"To what, daughter?" Dooku said. He had been prepared for this conversation for sometime and now took on the voice of a wounded man, knowing that reckless compassion she inherited from her father would react. "To forget that my student was murdered? Forget the fact that he died for a corrupt government over some trivial trade dispute!"

She turned and was watching him, her face even more like her father's now that it was torn with compassion and her own pain.

"You don't care. That's your problem." Dooku said, carefully choosing his words. He returned to the table to retrieve his lightsaber and the one she used. His eyes dimmed with sorrow as he studied the old, familiar handle and spoke again, after a long, uneasy silence. "You don't care about all that was given up for you, about what your father gave up for you. All you care about is yourself. It makes no difference how we have all suffered too long…how so many more will suffer because of your…" He glanced at her, still holding the saber close to his body. "…apathy. Everything we did for you…it doesn't mean anything." He sighed tiredly. "May I should just leave…"

The girl's countenance fell as she listened. Quickly, nervously, she crossed to him, wrapping her arms around Dooku, desperate to prove him wrong. "Don't say such things to me, please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off as ungrateful…I care about everything you've done for me, and I'll make you proud. Please say you won't leave me."

"Will you do what I ask then?"

"I will." She nodded, "I promise I'll obey from now on. Like my father did."

"Hopefully, not just like him."

She smiled at him softly, teasing the waters to see if she had injured the relationship she held most dear.

Dooku smiled at her, patting her arm. "Go, finish packing." He told her. "Your transport will be arriving shortly to take you to Galatia."

"Thank you…" She turned to leave.

"Thank you what?"

"Thank you, father." She whispered after a beat before going to the room to ready herself.

Dooku sighed as he watched her retreating image. For years now, she had been by his side preaching the Separatist gospel and doing whatever he asked of her, but now he was concerned. She was returning to the home of her family, and the Republic would fight for such a powerful system. The High Council would send Jedi to counteract her work. Dooku knew she felt the pain of forsaking her heritage and worried that, surrounded by so many reminders of her past and what she had left behind, she would be swayed against him.

But that would be impossible, he assured himself again. He had made her believed that everything they did was for her father's memory and if there was anything she cherished in life, it was her father. That would be her undoing once Dooku no longer had need of her, but for now…

For now, it was life.