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Notes: ROTS AU.

truthfullies66: I'm glad you noticed the part about Obi-Wan's possible potential. And I agree with you about Anakin in this case—later in the story I feel like he shifts to more of his ROTS persona, but for now I think he's playing off Obi-Wan's presence, like you said. We'll see—please let me know what you think in about how he's acting in about ten chapters.

yahola: The chapter below is basically Dooku's mind games X2. And you're very right about them needing to work through issues in order to strengthen their bond—this chapter addresses that too. Interesting thought about the master/padawan bond. I'm never quite sure how to address that, as the movies never do, and none of the EU books I've read do either. Any suggestions or information would be appreciated, though.

Torli: Aww, thanks! :)

charliebrown1234: I'm glad you caught that. I really think it's the little things that convey emotion well.

Anakinpadmekenobi: Mm, I'm getting a lot of questions about why Dooku left them together. You're right in your assumption, but I'll try to make that clearer later on.

SpiritedEstel: Dooku is going to do his best to try to turn him. We'll see how far he gets. And I so agree about Obi-Wan—he'd be a really scary Sith.


When Dooku enters the healer's wing, he's not expecting the sight that greets him… and, yet, he's not entirely surprised.

Kenobi is where he knew he'd be: on his back in bed. No one with an injury like Kenobi's would be walking anywhere, at least not for a few days. The unexpected bit is that Skywalker is curled up against him, face pressed into his shoulder and arm around his waist… and he's asleep. So is Kenobi.

How odd. There's something incredibly paternal about the picture they present. This, he imagines, is probably how they looked when Skywalker was a child who sought comfort from his master. And Kenobi, whether or not he realizes it, is, at least in this situation, every inch the father holding his son.

It's an odd notion. He never did this with Qui-Gon. Jedi don't do this. Dooku knows this, and, yet, there's something about it that makes him wonder what it would be like to have another person trust him so implicitly as to fall asleep laying against him. That's trust, and there's something about that which Dooku can't begin to understand. He has never been trusted enough to feel something so personal. He's not sure he'd want to… and, yet, he's not entirely sure that he wouldn't.

Of course, Skywalker is no longer a child who should need this sort of physical comfort from his master… but he was, and Dooku is certain that's when something like this first occurred. And now, in a time when Skywalker has been pushed nearly to his limit, he's seeking out something that, Dooku suspects, has always made him feel safe.

Dooku's relationship with Qui-Gon was never like this. He cared for the boy—loved him in his own way, even—but if he hugged him, it was a loose, one armed embrace, and Qui-Gon certainly never fell asleep against him. That wasn't their relationship. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that they were closer in age than Kenobi and Skywalker, and also that Qui-Gon was older when he was apprenticed. Still, there's something about seeing such raw trust that makes him wonder what it would have been like… perhaps even miss something he never had.

What would it have been like to care for a child like this?

He doesn't get much time to contemplate it, because Obi-Wan takes that moment to crack his eyes open. It's only a small movement at first, showing a sliver of the changeable color that was previously hidden, but it catches Dooku's attention… just as Dooku's presence catches Obi-Wan's.

They dying light of the Coruscant day is streaming in through the window, catching on Kenobi's face and hair and trickling down across Skywalker. In the light, Kenobi's hair appears redder. Combined with Skywalker's brown where Kenobi's bearded chin is pressed against the top of the boy's head, it appears a bit strange. An odd mosaic of color. Odd, like the two men curled together in such a familial manner. Yet, still strangely beautiful and… nearly right.

At first, Kenobi doesn't say anything. He simply watches Dooku, one hand still on Anakin's back, almost protectively, though there's nothing overt about it. It's simply a sense he's projecting, not necessarily even in the Force.

When he does speak, his face doesn't change. "You're a coward," he says simply. There's nothing in his tone to indicate that he's addressing anything more serious than the weather, but it would be impossible to miss the accusation.

"I'm almost insulted, Master Kenobi."

Still no physical reaction. "And I'm downright offended."

He enjoys the solid sound of his footfalls on the floor as he strides confidently over toward the bed, dropping a shadow down across it. The colors of their hair seem to blend to an even greater degree when they're in the shadows. Strange, like the two meld closer when pushed into darkness. He doesn't very much want to consider the implications of that. "Your personal feelings are certainly of the utmost importance. We should discuss whatever it is that is troubling you."

Obi-Wan doesn't bite at his sarcasm. "What do you want from me?" he asks, finally giving some sort of reaction, though it's only a slight creasing at the edges of his eyes.

Dooku almost smiles. Good question, and one that he doesn't even fully know the answer to. "Haven't we discussed this before?"

"Not to my satisfaction."

There's a reason why Dooku admires this man: Kenobi is down but not out, and even from a hospital bed, he's continues to refuse to be cowed. Still, he's subtle about it: he's not like Skywalker, with his loud displays and explosions of temper. Kenobi fights back in the small ways, through intelligence and careful planning.

In a straight out fight, Skywalker might be more dangerous, but Dooku is well aware of who is more potentially damaging in the quiet moments.

And the quiet moments win wars.

"And Force forbid we don't attain that," Dooku replies icily.

That earns him a light chuckle. "Anakin might take your side on this."

"Hmm, yes, Skywalker. I rather think he'd disagree with me on principle alone."

Frankly, he can't understand how the boy is still asleep. He should have heard them speaking by now.

Kenobi gives a light nod, smiling thinly. The movement slips him out of Dooku's shadow momentarily, and a ray of light falls down across his face, catching… something. Dooku isn't sure quite what. Resolve? Strength? Calculation? "More than likely you're correct—Anakin isn't overly fond of you." Again, he states it like a fact no more interesting than the weather. "I'm rather reluctant to wake him up, you know—I doubt he will make this conversation any more pleasant."

"To say it was pleasant to begin with?"

Obi-Wan gives a tiny shrug. The material of the pillow catches from the movement, rasping against his back. Skywalker shifts slightly, but still doesn't wake.

"In the same way that negotiating with Hutts, bounty hunters, and terrorists is pleasant."

Insults are always so much more civilized when delivered deadpan. Dooku can almost appreciate it—can appreciate the difference between the uncouth insults that frequently seem to occur in places with alcohol and people who can't control their tempers and the insults that take more thought and intelligence.

"I'm assuming he's not asleep entirely under his own power?" Skywalker is stupid, but he at least has self-preservation instincts. He would have woken by now.

"A mild Force shield. I'm blocking the sound and keeping him from sensing you."

Impressive—covering a Force signature is difficult to do.

"Well, perhaps it's for the best. He didn't do terribly well handling his duties the first time, did he? When he's allowed to talk, he seems to have a tendency to reveal things he shouldn't."

Finally, there's a spark of visible irritation. It's small—seen only in a barely perceptible tightening of his mouth, but still there. Oh, it's most certainly there. Perfect. "I think you underestimate Anakin."

"And I am of the opinion that you overestimate him."

"We'll see," Kenobi says, as though it's truly that simple.

Perhaps it is. Dooku is willing to allow for that.

"There is still the matter of you giving me false information."

"Yes, well, from a certain point of view, I didn't, did?" He looks pleased with himself, if only a little. He's too smart to think that such a small triumph will matter in the greater scheme of things, but still, it's something, and Dooku will let him have that. He has bigger things to gain. "You asked for the location of a Republic base. You never said it had to be active at the end of the war."

"Clever."

"I try."

"Next time, try harder." He taps his finger to his mouth a little absently as he pauses, turning his back to Obi-Wan in an effort to hide his now-pleased smile. He enjoys holding the upper hand. He always has. "Master Kenobi, you're an intelligent man, but I've had the benefit of years of experience which you don't have. I've seen thousands of men rise and fall, and I've learned that everyone has a weakness. It's only a matter of finding it… and I think we both know very well what yours is."

He turns around just in time to see Obi-Wan clench his jaw and, very briefly, tense the hand he has on Skywalker's back for a second time. Endearing, really. He loves the boy. Loves him too much, actually. It makes manipulation possible.

"Hmm," Obi-Wan mutters, nodding and looking away very deliberately. "Is this the part where you want me to agree to all your stipulations? I'll still have to refuse, I'm afraid."

Yes, but there's the beginning of unease, and that is all Dooku needs. This isn't an attempt to turn Obi-Wan away from his narrow-minded dogmatic Jedi views—not directly. This is about showing him who holds the power, and how "from a certain point of view" or not, Dooku won't tolerate being lied to.

"It's funny, you know," he begins, lightly turning to walk to the end of the bed, his shadow following behind. "This galaxy idolizes heroes. But when heroes fall, they become the most despised villains of all."

There's definitely a flame of unease in Kenobi's gaze now. He knows, in a vague sense, at least, what is coming—Dooku is certain.

That is not, of course, a reason not to try—not for Kenobi. Rather, he tips his chin back and stares Dooku in the face. Admirable. Even on Geonosis, Dooku appreciated that bent: that desire to keep looking right until the very end, until Dooku's lightsaber would have cut him clear in half. He never closed his eyes.

He doesn't do it now, either.

"Your fight is with me."

"Don't flatter yourself. My fight is with the stagnation of the Jedi and with the corruption of the Republic. You are merely an intriguing prisoner. My interest in you comes from the fact that you are, in a sense, my grandson. It does not come from any view of you as an equal opponent. Not any longer. You have lost. It would be best to admit that to yourself now."

"If you think that, then you have no cause to—"

"Contrary to what you clearly believe, Master Kenobi, I don't have to invent things to discredit Skywalker."

He raises his eyebrows accusingly. "But you will."

"Yes," he agrees, nodding. "But not entirely. What I invent—that will be so easily believed because of what truly happened. Once there is truth, it can be combined with a lie until the two are indistinguishable."

"Anakin can be… a bit unorthodox at times, but he hasn't done anything that's criminal, at least in the context of a war."

"And before the war?"

Obi-Wan takes a shallow breath. "You don't have a real charge against him. Not one that's as serious as you're speaking of."

Quite the contrary, actually. He's got plenty on Skywalker. Or, rather, Sidious did. And though the man was deplorable in many ways, Dooku does have to thank him for gaining this information, though he's sure Sidious didn't tell him everything.

"Wake him up."

Kenobi doesn't move. Everything about him is challenging, almost daring Dooku to try and make him.

Suddenly, Dooku very much wants to see his face when he realizes exactly what information he has on Skywalker. Frankly, he's surprised that Kenobi has hidden Skywalker's indiscretions for him all these years… though, he's not that surprised. So much can be justified in one's own mind, even the covering up of criminal acts.

"Wake him up, or I will do it, and my bedside manner is far less kind than yours, I'm sure."

Yes, that will do it. Kenobi knows he's got no leverage. In a situation like this, he can only pick the better of two very undesirable options.

With one last spark of a glare, Kenobi does as he's told. Dooku can feel the shields in place around Skywalker slip away, though he chooses not to comment on it as he watches Kenobi shake Skywalker awake.

Skywalker opens his eyes slowly, blinking a few times, long lashes sweeping down over his cheeks. He looks tired, slightly groggy, even. Dooku would have thought that years in a war zone would have cured him of that. Perhaps it's just Kenobi. Skywalker seems to trust that Kenobi will take care of things for him. That's an important detail—one Dooku will have to capitalize on. "Hmm, what, Master?" Skywalker mutters, sparing enough effort to glance up at Kenobi.

Whatever he finds on Kenobi's face—and Dooku will admit that he doesn't know Kenobi well enough to know exactly what it is—startles him fully awake. Moments later, he's sitting up, running a hand through his hair and thoroughly dispensing all traces of sleep with the ease of someone who's learned from those aforementioned years in a war zone.

And he's focusing on Dooku.

"I've had more pleasant wake-up calls," he mutters, scooting back on the bed.

How interesting. He's trying to put himself between Dooku and Kenobi. Of course, it might be more intimidating if he hadn't been sleeping for the last ten minutes while Kenobi quite easily took care of himself. It's always pride with Skywalker—always posturing, feeling like he's needed.

Pathetic. Power isn't in posturing. Dooku has learned that.

It's being able to back up your threats.

"And I've had more pleasant prisoners. But let's not quibble over details."

"By all means," Skywalker begins, casually waving his hand, "feel free to dispense with the pleasantries and tell us the reason for your less-than-welcome visit."

Behind Skywalker, Kenobi shifts on the bed, rolling slightly onto his side. He can't quite hide the small flinch that causes, but he downplays it fairly well. "Anakin—"

Dooku holds up a hand to silence him. "We all know that impatience is one of Skywalker's vices, Master Kenobi. It's a bit late to cover that now."

Cleary, he's struck a nerve: Kenobi's demeanor darkens, and it appears very much as though he thinks Dooku is something on the bottom of his boot. It's simply a reminder that Kenobi isn't without his own pride, though Dooku is more inclined to believe that it comes more in the form of contempt for those who don't believe as he does, rather than from confidence in himself. "Yes, well, we all have our vices, don't we, Dooku? Some of us tend toward impatience, while others have to contend with a lust for power and homicidal tendencies."

As far as slights go, it's a decent one. He's seen better from Kenobi, but still, not bad. What's really relevant, however, is that Kenobi brought the later point up at all. He knows Skywalker's indiscretions, and mentioning homicide is completely unwise considering what Skywalker has done… and Kenobi is not an unwise man.

It doesn't make sense that Kenobi would do something so unwise. He's given Dooku a perfect entrance. He's not foolish enough to do that.

Unless… unless Kenobi doesn't know.

Something remarkably close to excitement—perhaps even glee—leaps in Dooku's chest. Kenobi doesn't know. That's perfect. He couldn't have planned it better. Not only is Kenobi going to have to watch Skywalker fall, but he's going to be faced with the knowledge that the man he thought he knew—the man he thought trusted him—is hiding things—dangerous and immoral things—from him.

Perfect.

He nearly feels bad using the opening Kenobi unknowingly gave him. After all, he doesn't truly want to destroy the man, but this—this is necessary.

And Dooku was never one to pass up a good opportunity.

"I agree, Master Kenobi," he says, falsely magnanimous, as he inclines his head. "Skywalker does encompass all those vices rather thoroughly, doesn't he?"

On the edge of the bed, Skywalker sits up a little straighter. That's what a guilty conscience will do—make one paranoid. There's no possibility that he can know for sure what information Dooku has, but as past damaging indiscretions are apt to do, the possibility of what could be said haunts him. In Dooku's experience, that's always an undiscovered criminal's fear—that this will be the day they'll be found out. It's a terrible thing to live with. Sometimes, the worry—or even the guilt—drives people mad, even to the point where they confess.

It's possible that's why Skywalker confessed to Sidious.

Of course, it's interesting how, even though he had no notion of who Palpatine was, he still trusted him to keep his confidence on the secret of murder. He was the Chancellor of the Republic—he should have been the last person Skywalker would confide in about something illegal. But, somehow, without even realizing it, he seemed to intuitively know that Palpatine would accept his darkness while Kenobi would not.

And Kenobi has no idea.

It's almost tragic.

"War is a terrible thing, Dooku," Kenobi says a little irritably, "but I'd wouldn't call it homicide. And, if it was, all those deaths could be laid directly at your feet."

"And the slaughter of a village of sand people? What would you call that?"

It's a sign of just how good Kenobi's control is that he's able to completely wipe his face of any emotions; he stares at Dooku, analyzing everything with a calm, steady stare that has the beginnings of confusion hidden behind it. "I would call that another of your lies. The sand people aren't involved in this war."

Skywalker's control isn't nearly as good as Kenobi's: a tinge of red rises in his cheeks, and his entire body tenses up, as though a jolt of electricity has just shot through him. Even his feet grind a little harder into the floor, and the mattress of the bed groans in protest as he pushes back against it more forcefully.

Kenobi notices.

"Anakin?"

"I'll tell you what, Skywalker," Dooku begins smugly, enjoying every burst and flair of pain and guilt on Skywalker's face, "I'll be kind enough to let you explain it to your master. And then, you can explain it to the courts."

Oh, yes. That earns him the reaction he wants.

In a burst of raw energy and possibly panic, Skywalker surges to his feet. Kenobi manages to grab the back of his shirt to keep him from lunging forward, and Dooku has to admit that he's surprised when Skywalker yields under that. Given that his master is on his back in bed, he should be able to break free.

"How did you know?" he whispers.

Pitiful. This boy professes to follow the light, but his biggest concern is how someone discovered his indiscretions, not that he committed them in the first place. "I should think that to be the least of your worries. A better question would be why your master doesn't."

And, clearly, Kenobi doesn't. That much is obvious in the way his face has drained of blood, fading to a color that appears even more wan against his copper hair. He looks positively ill.

"Anakin." Kenobi's voice comes out low and authoritative, and Skywalker stiffens under the tone, "Sit down."

Skywalker does. His eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments, almost resigned, like an animal that knows its race has been run. He knows he's been caught, and, Dooku suspects, probably by the man he wanted to hide it from the most.

"I couldn't tell you, Obi-Wan," he says when he opens his eyes again. He doesn't look at Kenobi, but it's obvious that none of his attention is on Dooku. At this point, it's all about trying to salvage the one support he has.

Before he even starts talking, Dooku knows he'll succeed.

Kenobi will be furious—that's a given—but he will also stand by Skywalker, because that is what he does. He may not approve of his decisions, but he won't abandon him to whatever this is.

Again, Dooku is struck with the odd feeling of wondering what it would be like to care for another being that much.

He pushes the feeling aside and, smiling nastily, turns toward the door. Pausing, he takes only long enough to toss one last biting remark over his shoulder: "If I were you, Skywalker, I'd air your dirty laundry now—I suspect Kenobi would rather hear it from you than from the holonet."

In a few days, that's where it all will be. Skywalker isn't going to have any more secrets.

His days of being a hero are over. The light is going out on the son of the suns.

More importantly, Dooku's sun is just rising.