Summary: A run-of-the-mill weekend excursion on the pleasure planet of Corellia results in consequences far more dire than Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ahsoka Tano anticipate when Obi-Wan ends up married to Asajj Ventress. Chapter Four: Ventress is indoctrinated, kicking and screaming, into everyone's daily routine at the Temple. Written with D.
What Happens on Corellia
Chapter Four - Wrap Around
Ahsoka had never been happier to see her little room in the Padawan dorms, the bed soft and inviting, the walls adorned with holopics of her Master (all of which she was very sorry to have put up at this point because, quite frankly, she didn't even want to *think* about him, let alone look at him), warm and comforting and distinctly NOT smelling of urine or vomit.
She still couldn't quite grasp what had happened. It seemed a little too surreal to be true, quite frankly, but then again, she'd experienced some very surreal things as Anakin Skywalker's apprentice. This just seemed to be the logical next step. She was just very grateful she didn't share the apartment with the two Jedi. Thank the Force for small favors.
A sudden knock on the door startled her. She had not been expecting visitors, and quite frankly, after the events of the past couple of days, was not in the mood to interact with anyone. She was further aggrieved when the person staggering on the other side of the peephole was her Master, a lopsided grin on his face and a half-empty bottle of booze clutched in his flesh hand. Ahsoka wasn't sure which to be more infuriated about.
"Long time no see," Anakin drawled when she pulled open the door after heaving an irritated sigh that she was sure her Master had heard. He stepped forward. "C'mon, Snips, move over, I need to sit down."
"Master, you're drunk!" Ahsoka accused in a loud whisper. She braced her hands on either side of the door frame, mentally refusing to give in to him, no matter how much he turned on the charm.
Anakin just snorted. "No kriffing duh," he laughed, nearly tipping over from the vertigo of moving his head. When Ahsoka failed to move, he pouted. "Aren't you happy to ... see me?" he asked, and then let out a burp.
Ahsoka glared. "Give me that," she ordered, prying the bottle from Anakin's fingers. "You know alcohol isn't allowed in the Padawan dorms. What if Master Windu happened by and saw this?"
"You sound like Obi-Wan," Anakin slurred, waving his hand. "And anyway, I'm a ... Master now," he yawned. "Windu can't do gundark crap to me."
"He can kick you out of the Order still," Ahsoka pointed out, not bothering to inform her Master that she considered it a compliment to be compared to Obi-Wan. Well, most of the times anyways. "Look, why don't you just go home and take a nap? You look like you could use it."
Anakin stared at her blearily. "Can't go home," he managed. "Obi-Wan's new wifey is there, in case you'd forgotten."
"Oh." Ahsoka hadn't, of course, but she still hadn't expected her Master to come to her for comfort, of all people. "Uh, so is that... oh." She'd thought he would have learned his lesson, but apparently he was denser than she gave him credit for.
Anakin pushed by her and stumbled to her bed, falling onto it with a grunt. "She took my bedroom," he moaned unhappily, brushing his fingers against his lips. "She took my bedroom and I haveta sleep on the couch and she insulted my *mom*!"
"Oh," Ahsoka repeated, hesitantly looking up and down the hall to see if anyone had observed her Master's sudden - and unwanted - appearance. "I'm sorry, I guess, but ..." She put down the liquor bottle on her desk. "But it's technically partially your fault, you know," she reminded him. "You know, cause you got *drunk*." She wondered if the talk they'd had on the way home had registered at all.
Anakin waved his hand in her general direction. "We're not ... I don't want to talk about this again," he informed her. Okay, maybe it had, and he'd just disregarded it. As usual. "This was a stupid idea, even by Council standards. I want my room back!"
Sighing, Ahsoka sat beside him. He pushed her away and moved to lie down. "Gonna sleep here," he slurred. "Go do your homework or somethin'." Ahsoka wondered what the penalties were for Master-cide. She doubted anyone on the Council would blame her.
"I don't have any homework," she said firmly. "And you're not sleeping here." She thought for a moment. "Don't you have any other friends to stay with? Any *special* friends?"
Anakin's stomach gurgled. "Padme doesn't like me comin' over when I'm d-drunk," he managed. "She says I smell."
"You kinda do." Ahsoka made a face.
"And she says I knock stuff over," Anakin added. "That I'm c-clumsy. But I'm NOT clumsy," he retorted, not really speaking to Ahsoka anymore. "I'm a ... Jedi." He paused and pointed his finger at Ahsoka. "Her candles smell AWESOME!"
Ahsoka sighed. "I'm still not comfortable with you staying here, Sky Guy," she told him, gently but firmly.
Anakin blinked, his face suddenly alight with newfound clarity. "Wait. You're ... here, but you don't have homework?" he queried, straightening momentarily.
Ahsoka shrugged. "I had enough excitement hanging out with you lately," she retorted tiredly.
Anakin snorted into her pillow. "You had fun," he yawned.
"About as much fun as I would have in a nest of gundarks," Ahsoka snapped, but it was half-hearted at best. Her Master was out pretty much as soon as he closed his eyes, not seeming to be bothered by his apprentice's small tantrum that she interspersed with a bit of stomping around the room. Probably, he'd had lots of practice resting in almost any condition, Ahsoka thought, and grudgingly decided to leave him be. She Force-levitated a thick blanket over her Master's prone frame, then draped it on top of him. Anakin mumbled something that may have been a tendril of coherent thought or something else entirely. His face relaxed, and Ahsoka couldn't help but smile at how peaceful he looked.
"Sleep well, Master," she murmured.
Upon returning from getting fitted with her permanent Force-suppressor, Ventress proceeded to destroy as much of Obi-Wan's apartment as possible. He'd given up trying to stop her and was now just trying to duck the debris she was flinging at him. Part of him was very thankful Anakin had made himself scarce, because he knew he'd have a fistfight on his hands if the younger Jedi were here to witness this. Then again, having Anakin here might have helped at least subdue the woman a little bit. Or at least given her a target that was not his dining room table.
"You kriffing, shriveled gundark dick!" Ventress screeched as a chair hurtled towards Obi-Wan's head. "You WILL remove this stanging device RIGHT THIS SECOND!" She sounded as though she were in pain, and though Obi-Wan knew it was uncomfortable for a Force-sensitive to have a suppressor (thanks to Ventress, ironically, he thought sardonically), he had a feeling it was for show more than anything else.
"If I remove it, you'll die," he reminded her blandly, holding up a hand to redirect the furniture with the Force. He had to admit, he did it as much to rub it in that she *couldn't* as he did to actually accomplish anything. Did that make him a bad Jedi? Probably, he thought. Anakin would have relished the control he had over her, of course; Obi-Wan felt a small surge of satisfaction as he calmly juggled a potted plant and some small kitchen items that Ventress lobbed at him.
Overall, however, he was just tired of this whole ordeal. His quarters were a mess, his apprentice seemed to be avoiding him, and truth be told, he wasn't entirely certain that the Council's plan to extract information out of Ventress was going to result in anything useful. There was no guarantee that it would work; Obi-Wan doubted the slender woman would crack under physical torture, though he supposed forced co-habitation with Jedi was a close approximation for her.
His favorite teapot sailing past his head snapped Obi-Wan back to attention. "I understand you're ... upset," he grunted, releasing all of his belongings with moderate care so that he could focus on body-binding Ventress with the Force. "But there is really no point to this. I can no more remove the suppressor than I could insert it."
"Then bring me to somebody who can," Ventress snarled, eyes watering in frustration as she struggled. "Let me GO, Kenobi!" she hissed. "Let me go RIGHT now, or I'll-"
"You'll what? As you keep reminding me, you have no access to the Force," Obi-Wan shrugged, haphazardly working to conceal the satisfaction this notion brought him. "You could be overpowered by Anakin's apprentice. Easily."
"Just ... because I'm not ... attuned to the Force doesn't mean I ... can't ... destroy you," Ventress bit out, razor-sharp teeth bared.
Obi-Wan's mouth quirked. "Yes, I am well aware of that. You have already made an example of most of my cooking accoutrement."
Ventress' snickered. "I did you a favor," she informed him sharply. "Your taste in flatware is pedestrian at best." Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, and she seemed satisfied to have, at least somewhat, caught him off-guard.
"I was unaware you even used utensils," he replied calmly, urging her into the living room with a Force suggestion. "I was under the impression you merely ripped out the throat of your prey and let that be it." Satisfied that she was securely bound, Obi-Wan settled onto the now-tattered sofa. Anakin was not going to be happy, he thought with some mild concern.
"The Republic is not the be-all-end-all of civilization, you know," she informed him, managing to cross her arms over her chest. Obi-Wan allowed it, satisfied that her limbs were taking a break from hurling Obi-Wan's meager belongings at him. She stared down her nose at him: "In fact, considering some of the things people have done to get rich or re-elected in the Senate, I think 'civil' is giving it a little too much credit."
"No system is perfect," Obi-Wan conceded. He must have realized at the same moment Ventress did that they were having a rational discussion with one another; Obi-Wan coughed and looked briefly at his lap, and when his eyes met Ventress' again, she was scowling anew. "I daresay you never had much of a chance to experience the Republic for yourself as anything but an outsider," he speculated.
Ventress just glowered. "I've seen more than enough of it. At least I'm not a patsy to a corrupt system, the way the Jedi are."
Obi-Wan tilted his head. Thoughtful debate fascinated him; Anakin was rather obtuse when it came to inter-galactic affairs, and he'd been too young for many of Qui-Gon's philosophical musings on the Living Force and such - probably still was, he thought. He could sense Ventress growing surly - it had probably been a long time since someone had verbally sparred with her - but privately, he appreciated her ability to eloquently argue her point of view. Perhaps this assignment would turn around for him, after all.
"I don't think-" he began, but Ventress cut him off.
"I don't stanging care, Kenobi. YOU can sit there and pretend that I'm going to be your subservient little house-guest for as long as your esteemed Council decides that I'm useful, but don't forget that I'm still plenty capable of holding my own in a fight. Things can happen while you sleep. Remember that."
Obi-Wan sighed. The very real possibility of sleeping in shifts and essentially babysitting his arch-enemy and, well, wife had occurred to him. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if the woman was going to fight him tooth and nail every step of the way, there was little choice in the matter. He rather fancied waking up with all of his vital organs in-tact.
"And you're not going to learn anything from me," Ventress added. "I don't care that you and Skywalker are the most infuriating beings in this galaxy, I'm not going to give in." Obi-Wan was beginning to believe that, though he wondered if she realized just how infuriating Anakin could be. He'd often been able to get information they were seeking just on the merit of being himself.
"Well, then, this will be most unpleasant for all of us," Obi-Wan commented lightly, flipping on his datapad, ready to begin ignoring her. She seemed to realize his intention, and growled, flinging the holotube remote at him. He caught it easily and rolled his eyes. Unpleasant, indeed.
As soon as Anakin woke up, hungover and disoriented, Ahsoka had herded him out of her quarters. "Go away," she said. "If you want to come back, you have to be sober." Anakin thought that was entirely unfair, given his current circumstances, but he left anyway. She hadn't seemed very keen on conversation, and the liquor he'd arrived with had been mysteriously disposed of while he slept, so there hadn't been much point in staying. He didn't want to go back to the apartment, though. Not even a little bit. He felt slightly bad for leaving Obi-Wan on his own, but, after all, Obi-Wan had been the one ultimately responsible for Ventress' presence, so... screw Obi-Wan.
Still woozy, and not really up to the effort of convincing someone else to offer him sanctuary, however Anakin returned home, hoping to simply sneak in undetected. Naturally, it was not to be; Obi-Wan frowned disapprovingly at him from the sitting room, and Ventress glowered, her body rigid with what Anakin knew had to be a Force suggestion to stay put. That he was bad at hiding his amusement at this only seemed to piss Ventress off even more.
"Oh great," she said loudly, "the black nerf has returned to the roost."
"How's that Force-suppressor working for you there, Ventress?" Anakin said jovially, purposefully using his own non-severed connection to float a hard-backed chair from the dining area to join the small cavalcade of furniture. One of the legs fell off in mid-air, and Ventress snorted. Anakin rolled his eyes: "Is this the best you can do?" he mocked. "No wonder you're losing."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Ventress' voice was syrupy. "Never mind that I've personally killed Jedi in higher numbers than you can count."
"Maybe they gave in just so they wouldn't have to look at your face-"
"Enough, Anakin," Obi-Wan interrupted. "We haven't even a remote chance of ... working together if you continue to reduce yourself to youngling-esque quarrels."
Anakin sat back as much as the chair would allow. "She started it," he mumbled.
Obi-Wan stood up. "I am going to make tea. You will stay here with her," he told Anakin. It was not a request. Anakin was beginning to regret coming back, especially since Obi-Wan had left it up to him to maintain the Force-restraint he'd had Ventress in. Not, of course, that Anakin would have trouble with it or anything, it was just... he was tired and cranky and looking at Ventress was the last thing he wanted to be doing.
"Have fun?" Ventress asked, smirking, as Anakin surveyed the damage to the apartment, his gaze finally coming to rest on the tattered sofa. So much for getting much sleep here, he thought mournfully. Well, that was okay, he could definitely find other places to be for however long this would take. He had a wife, after all, with a perfectly nice penthouse apartment. "Bring me along next time, we could have some *real* fun." She'd pitched her voice into what Anakin assumed was supposed to be something seductive. He rolled his eyes.
"You're thermal," he replied, sitting carefully on the decimated sofa.
Ventress snorted. "Yeah, like you're firing on all thrusters, you chuff-sucking Jedi sleemo."
Anakin stared at her in amazement for a long moment. "Really?" he asked when he was sure he could speak without laughing. "*Really*?"
Ventress looked vaguely confused. "What?" she snapped in an irritated tone.
Anakin snickered. "I'm just marveling at how civilized you sound grunting at me in Huttese, that's all."
"Oh, right." Ventress picked at a thread on the mutilated couch. "You Jedi have some real backrocket ideas about what constitutes 'civilized'. I mean, considering," she sneered.
"Considering what?" Anakin asked, baited.
Ventress smirked at him. "You're hardly one to talk, Skywalker. I mean, that's what they told you on Tatooine, isn't it? Slaves are better seen and not heard, right?"
Anakin's fists, real and artificial alike, clenched. "You know nothing about my life," he said, jaw tight.
Ventress laughed. "Sure seems like I do."
"You don't," Anakin insisted, his voice somewhat more harried now. He could feel the electrodrivers in his mechanical hand whirring in protest as he clenched his fists tighter. He glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen - surely Obi-Wan wouldn't fault him for punching her, just once.
"You're just a little slave boy who grew up into a jet-juicing, thermal, pseudo-Jedi with delusions of grandeur," Ventress taunted, smirking as she watched him struggle with his temper. "Hardly worth the trouble."
"Speaking of hardly worth the trouble," Obi-Wan said, emerging from the kitchen with a cup of tea. Anakin noticed he'd only made one, and felt a little put-out, even though he didn't particularly like tea one way or the other. "Calm down, Anakin."
Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan had been forced to listen to this all day, and if so, how he could remain so damn calm about it. Then again, it was Obi-Wan, calm personified. "Yes, Master," he grumped, head bowed slightly. He heard Ventress snort, and glared at her, brow furrowed.
"She is merely trying to antagonizing you, Anakin," Obi-Wan lectured. "It only works if you let it get to you."
"Still in the room," Ventress reminded them unnecessarily. Knowing it bothered her to be ignored, Anakin continued with his button-pushing.
"So how is this going to work?" he asked Obi-Wan, albeit while looking pointedly at Ventress. "How do we keep the Sith-wannabe subdued?"
"Funny. Patting yourself on the back for your cleverness, Skywalker?" Ventress retorted. Anakin smirked, but in fact gave himself mental props for his choice of words.
Obi-Wan heaved a sigh for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. "As much as I would like this to be ... pleasant," he enunciated, "it seems most prudent for us to spend time with her in shifts."
"Dibs on afternoons," Anakin chimed in. He knew full well he had barely made it to his morning classes when he was a Padawan, and he wasn't about to give up his chances to sneak off to the Outlander in the evenings. The lower level dance club had been a salvation from the ornate strictness of the Jedi Order for him pretty much as soon as he discovered it was there, and had become even more of one since he'd surpassed age requirements for alcohol consumption and curfew - as opposed to simply bypassing them and hoping not to get caught anymore, of course. Babysitting Ventress would put a serious cramp on his social life, however distasteful Obi-Wan found it.
"Hmm." His former Master made a noncommittal noise, but Anakin knew he would get his way. "I suppose Ahsoka could occasionally help out."
Anakin snorted. "Yeah, kid's gotta learn to pull her weight."
Obi-Wan's expression was hard. "In all actuality, she does not really have any blame in this, Anakin."
"Yes, it seems you're capable of drinking until you soil yourself and pass out without the aid of a Padawan," Ventress noted, rejoining the conversation.
"Nobody gave you permission to speak," Anakin shot back, knowing he was being a nuisance but not really minding much. In fact, he rather liked having someone to snipe at who couldn't get him drummed out of the Order for insubordination. It might be a nice way of releasing a lot of pent-up frustration.
"Well, then, I will take evenings, and you can speak with Ahsoka to see if she would be willing to help out in the mornings," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully.
Anakin frowned slightly. "I'm not sure that would go over well coming from me right now," he said carefully, not particularly wanting to get into why his apprentice was miffed at him this time.
"Maybe if you're capable of doing more than slurring an order at her, she might take it better," Ventress suggested, and Anakin Force-shoved her into the sofa.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, exasperated. He sighed and hovered over Ventress as she coughed, the shove having knocked the wind out of her momentarily. Then she let off a string of colorful slurs, and he ceased feeling all that sympathetic.
"Are we going to have to follow her around like this constantly?" Anakin said sulkily. "I mean, isn't there some sort of cage or something that we can use? Monitoring her bathroom breaks is not my idea of a good time," he affirmed.
"Like I'd let you," Ventress rasped angrily.
"Enough, enough! For kriff's sake, ENOUGH!" Obi-Wan shouted, stamping his foot. Unaccustomed to Obi-Wan throwing tantrums, Anakin was stunned into silence; Ventress, simply amused that she was getting to him, smirked. "I can't decide which one of you is worse!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. Anakin looked as if he wanted to clarify, but a steely look from his Master made him bite his tongue.
"Now," Obi-Wan said, seeming to collect himself, if not slightly embarrassed by his own outburst, "We'll just have to see what the Force gives us to work with." Anakin, personally, thought that was a complete load, but the look on his Master's face told him it would be best to keep his mouth shut.
"Well it certainly hasn't gifted either of you with much in the way of common sense," Ventress commented from the sofa, earning herself a glare from both Jedi.
"Anakin, do you think you can refrain from acting like a youngling or resorting to violence while I have a rest?" Obi-Wan asked, somewhat pleadingly.
Anakin didn't want to make any promises on either front, quite frankly. "Depends on her," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ventress, who provided him with a vulgar hand gesture.
"I am not asking you what she is doing," Obi-Wan affirmed, speaking slowly as if he were trying to coax a roomful of younglings to take a nap. "I am asking you to start acting like you deserved to be Knighted."
Ventress made a 'whooshing' sound with her mouth. "One for Kenobi," she laughed under her breath. Obi-Wan ignored her. Anakin straightened, seeming to take his Master's words to heart. For once, Obi-Wan thought sarcastically.
"I will do what I must," Anakin intoned, glaring at Ventress out of the corner of his eye. She stuck her tongue out at him in response. "But I can't help it if Baldy here doesn't want to cooperate."
"What were you Chosen for again, your witty repartee, or just the fact that you manage to make all your vital systems function without the use of a brain?" Ventress frowned, seemingly self-conscious about her lack of hair.
Anakin clenched his jaw to keep himself from snarking back - at least while Obi-Wan was standing right there. "Go rest, Master," he growled. "I'll be good." It was a lie, and everyone knew it - especially Ventress, who snorted.
Obi-Wan sighed, yet again. "Thank you," he said, and walked down the hall to his bedroom. Anakin couldn't help feeling slightly bitter that Obi-Wan had a bedroom to go to.
Once Obi-Wan was gone, Anakin sat in the armchair and flipped on the Holonet receiver. Ventress glowered at him. "That's it?" she asked. "That's what you're going to do with your time?"
Anakin shrugged. "Better than dismembering you and getting in trouble for it," he informed her. "Rogue Jedi is a far better alternative to talking to you."
Ventress snatched up the remote and changed the channel before Anakin could react. "No," she said. "We're watching 'As the Galaxy Turns'."
Anakin clenched his fists. This was going to be a long assignment.
Jenna Zan Arbor checked her wrist-chrono. It was time to check in with her employer.
Dooku's long face was weary. If he'd come to her sooner, Zan Arbor suspected she could have stalled the physical signs of his age for a good couple of decades at least; as it was, he looked like a feeble old man. And while Zan Arbor knew he was anything but, having almost single-handed control over dozens of Separatist systems and the ear of the first Sith lord in a thousand years, something about his wrinkled face and sallow eyes repulsed her.
"Madam," Dooku began, giving a short, aristocratic bow. "I trust our visit finds you well."
"Naturally." She could suck up with the best of them, but privately valued honesty and cutting to the point over small talk. "The vial was successfully handed off at the rendezvous point. That ... woman was educated thoroughly on how to handle it." A mental image of Asajj Ventress made her blanch; though impressively powerful, in a barbaric sort of way, the assassin had reminded Zan Arbor more of an oversized reptile than a humanoid.
Zan Arbor hadn't enjoyed working with the woman, but she had thoroughly enjoyed her little project. Kenobi had been a thorn in her side for years, and Skywalker... well, he was just fun to study. So much power, so little control. She wished she'd taken more time to talk with him on Vanquor, but alas, perhaps another time.
"I have not heard from Ventress since the rendezvous," Dooku informed her, and Zan Arbor couldn't help thinking that the Count sounded somewhat suspicious. Did he really believe she would be bothered to do anything to his precious protégé? Ventress had Force power, and that interested Zan Arbor, but she wasn't the scientist's subject of interest.
Zan Arbor shrugged. "We parted ways. I would assume she found her targets. She seemed... capable enough."
Dooku's expression was grim. "Ventress can certainly handle herself," he affirmed. Zan Arbor sensed that he found her vaguely distasteful as well, but it wasn't important, so long as she did her job. "Naturally, I must wait to receive confirmation of the solution's success before you receive the last half of your payment," he continued. Discussing money was very gauche, but Dooku had long become accustomed to the trickier aspects of organizing the galaxy at large. Sometimes, he knew, one had to get their hands a bit dirty to accomplish his/her goals.
Zan Arbor's face was pinched. "Merely a formality," she replied. She'd done enough business with the Separatists before to know that they were good for it, but the affirmation still made her seethe. That potion was no child's first chemistry set; it had cost a pretty penny to make, and she had no doubt that Dooku was fully aware of all this. The problem was, of course, the middle man - woman, whatever. Try as she might, Zan Arbor couldn't help worrying that Ventress might complicate this seemingly standard mission. It was but a vague feeling, likely mere paranoia, but, well, there it was.
Dooku ended the discussion shortly after promising to notify Zan Arbor whenever Ventress checked in. The word "if" hung in the air, pregnant with a million ways that everything could go wrong. Zan Arbor sat in her posh private office once the connection had been cut, contemplating her next move. Perhaps, she decided, standing with a sudden purpose, she needed to get her own middle man involved.
"I spoke with the scientist, My Lord," Dooku said with a low bow. He wished he could be free to make his own decisions regarding this mission, but Sidious had been very firm in his insistence that he be kept in the loop. He knew it was because of Skywalker's involvement - the Sith Lord was gearing up for something with the young, brash Jedi, though Dooku wasn't entirely certain what.
Sidious nodded and motioned for him to stand fully. "Good," he said from within the shadows of his cowled robe. "Good." He paused slightly. "There is a problem, however, Tyrannus."
Dooku's jaw tightened. "My Lord?" he asked, wondering what the problem could possibly be. Despite Ventress' comm silence, Dooku had every reason to believe the assignment had been completed as ordered.
"I have heard from my sources within the Temple," Sidious said smoothly, "that Ventress was not as successful as we'd hoped."
The Count's stomach dropped, and he steeled himself for Sidious to unleash his wrath. "What have you heard?" he wondered carefully.
For his part, Sidious was a shadow, a void, calm and calculating, as he always was. No sign of anger but for a slight scowl that may or may not have been in response to the situation. "Ventress has been taken into custody in the Temple," he said. Dooku began to respond - impossible! - but Sidious held up a gnarled hand. "This may work to our advantage," he continued. "They mean to extract information from her, but she is not being held as a prisoner."
"No?" Dooku asked, slightly confused.
"No," Sidious repeated. Dooku found himself leaning towards the holoprojection, unnervingly curious. "She is co-habitating with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker," the Dark Lord explained, a dark undercurrent of amusement evident in his tone. "According to my sources, there is legal documentation that her and General Kenobi were ... married."
"MARRIED?" Dooku wondered if he was dreaming. His Master seemed to be waiting for him to read between the lines. "Oh ..." he said a moment later. "The potion ..."
"There must have been some sort of incident," Sidious smirked. He flexed his fingers. "A strange turn of events, to be sure, but the task in and of itself was accomplished - Kenobi and Skywalker are out of commission while they play house."
"Why not just lock her up?" Dooku wondered aloud. He thought back to his Jedi teachings briefly, but could not recall any involving being forced to make good on wedding vows taken under the control of mind-altering substances. Perhaps things had changed ...
Sidious' mouth was set into a full-fledged grin, now. "Whatever the reason, it works to our advantage. Initiate Phase Two of our plan, Lord Tyrannus," he ordered.
"Yes, my Lord," Dooku said automatically.
The Sith's robes shifted. "Also, make attempts to contact Ventress. She will still be a powerful ally, once she is properly rehabilitated. I've heard tell that she has been fitted with a Force-suppressor."
"Ah." Dooku focused on not shuddering visibly. Simulations of not being able to access the Force had terrified him as a Padawan. "We can only hope she does not feel connived into releasing any damaging information to our cause," he told his Master carefully.
"I think she won't," Sidious smiled. "Ascension to the Sith is her ultimate goal. She craves power. She will keep our secrets."
Dooku felt the corners of his mouth twitch. "She thinks she will earn her way into the Sith," he murmured. "As long as she believes that, she will do anything for me."
Sidious nodded approvingly. "Then see to it that she continues to believe that, Lord Tyrannus."
Dooku bowed. "Yes, Master."