Okay, this story just sneakily keeps growing, so I'm giving up trying to predict in which chapter things are going to happen, lol. Love it? Hate it? Being driven mad by Qui-Gon's endless confusion? Let me know! Please? Pleeeeeeeease?

New Arrangements

By: Syntyche

Chapter Thirteen

Shouldn't have left him. I shouldn't have left him. What was I thinking?

The hastily jumbled mantra echoed relentlessly in his mind, melding neatly with the overloud crack of his hurried bootfalls on the old stone floor. Shouldn't have, I shouldn't have …

Dooku had searched the ground floor thoroughly for Qui-Gon; the docking bay was the only place yet to be checked, but even as he entered the emptiness of the still space his heart sank a little further into despair, his unwelcome fear locked in a little more firmly against his ribcage. The docking bay was empty now, but he easily and immediately picked up on the sense of turmoil permeating the air, along with the lingering residue of the Signature he recognized as Kenobi's from the brief time he had spent with the young, tortured apprentice.

And Qui-Gon. He realized with startling certainty that Qui-Gon had been here also, and that did not bode well for the missing Jedi - Rhagos had already made quite clear his intent to murder Dooku's former Padawan, and Dooku didn't bother wasting a pointless moment of imagining that Rhagos would somehow surprise him with an uncharacteristic display of mercy dredged up somewhere from the blackness that permeated his entire being.

There were crimson smudges on the docking bay's permacrete flooring - I shouldn't have left him - and rising panic clawed at him harshly as he backed out the doors, pivoting to storm through the hall, thundering down the shallow stairs to the only place Rhagos felt completely in control; his shaking hand quickly entering the code to disarm the shimmering energy seal in place around the door …

Completely unsurprised and unfazed by his whirlwind entrance, Rhagos turned to face him as he charged through the doorway. He wiped his bloodstained hands on a pristine white rag, eyeing Dooku coolly, waiting patiently for him to explain his decidedly distasteful emotional and dramatic arrival. Dooku glanced around quickly in the dimness of the small room, his worried scan falling on Qui-Gon; the large Jedi was secured neatly upright within a levitation field, unconscious but with no visible injuries. Anger - justified rage made all the more potent by his unacceptable loss of calm - swept in darkly to replace his worry and he drew himself up haughtily, his gaze level with that of the Master watching him idly. Dooku looked past the silent Rhagos to where Kenobi hung limply in the wall restraints like a youngling's rag doll, his ginger head bowed to his naked chest. The wall behind him was spattered liberally with fresh gore and Dooku swallowed past the revulsion and hatred crowding his throat.

"Rhagos, what have you done?" he asked softly.

"You needn't worry about Qui-Gon," Rhagos replied calmly, leaning lazily against the table set into the wall as he tossed the sodden rag clutched in his fist onto its littered surface carelessly. "Obi-Wan couldn't get past his hero complex." He smiled proudly, disturbingly pleased with his apprentice: broken into shattered pieces - but not bowed, even now. "And that has always worked to my advantage."

At least Qui-Gon is unharmed, was Dooku's only relief amidst his burgeoning unease, though he admitted somewhat anxiously to himself that he wasn't even certain that was true. He couldn't quite ignore the steady plip-plip-plip of Kenobi's blood dripping to the floor, as haughtily as he tried. Rhagos noticed his ashen complexion, followed his gaze to Kenobi, and shrugged carelessly.

"I got carried away," he admitted indifferently, waving a dismissive hand. He glanced down at the front of his robes, stained red, and added dryly, "I do, however, need to get cleaned up before Obi-Wan and I join the Garosians. Although … " he faced Kenobi, mulling quietly for a moment as he raised a hand to card through Kenobi's saturated ginger hair absently. A small keening of grief slid from Kenobi at the touch, the barest of sighs, but no other sound or movement came from the limp Padawan, propped awkwardly in restraints set too high in the wall to allow him to even rest on his knees, too exhausted to do more than sag bonelessly against the cold stone behind him.

Rhagos regarded his apprentice clinically, no hint of remorse or pity fleeting across his stern visage. He turned away from the pitiful sight of his own making, musing aloud thoughtfully with a quick, appraising glance at the other Jedi who still stood at the threshold, shock and distaste poorly hidden under the mask of disgusted superiority hastily erected on Dooku's face.

"Padawan Kenobi may not have the strength to assist me tonight," Rhagos murmured, schooling his hard features into an expression of deep thought, covering his sneer and speaking just slowly enough that it would appear to Dooku that he were just now formulating this idea that had instead taken root in his mind much earlier.

"I wonder if Master Jinn would be up to the task…?" he added thoughtfully, an amused, deprecating smile graced his perfect teeth. "After all, Obi-Wan did do this for Master Jinn … I rather think Qui-Gon owes him, don't you?"

Dooku could barely keep the retch of disgusted horror from slipping past his lips. Let this monster touch Qui-Gon, let him use Dooku's Padawan in the ways Rhagos shamed and destroyed his own? Never. Never.

Dooku glanced at the two restrained Jedi: his own beloved Padawan held rigidly amidst crackles of white-blue energy, his lined face pained even in unconsciousness; and Kenobi, for whom there were no words to describe the devastation this young one existed in. For an unguarded moment, Dooku allowed his mind to form the picture he'd been clinging to these long and uncertain months of his new Order: Force-users from all walks of life free to use the Force without fear of retribution, no strict enrollment guidelines such as those the Council currently enforced, himself at the proud head …

He was chagrined to admit that his prized mental image, long held in a quiet but growing corner of his mind, didn't look anything like the grisly scene laid out before him; Qui-Gon looked so uncomfortably exhausted, and a small river of Kenobi's spilt blood had almost reached Dooku's boot tips.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He has betrayed our ideal … he will bring about our ruination.

Dooku wasn't sure how long he stood, cold in his hatred, rigid feet frozen to the stone floor, registering nothing but the fracturing shards of his dream splintering in his mind and the familiar weight of the curved lightsaber handle hanging securely at his side.

His gaze eventually lifted to Qui-Gon and warmth slowly stole back into his frigid being; a determination not to let his dream be shattered by the treacherous worm that had imprisoned his beloved apprentice. Kenobi would live or die, that mattered little to Dooku, but the Padawan had been the key that had brought Qui-Gon back to him. Without the headaches Qui-Gon had been experiencing through the unintentional bond formed between Kenobi and Jinn, Qui-Gon would never have stepped away from his busy life within the Order, would never have been dragged unwillingly to the point where he would take an unauthorized sabbatical from the Temple to respond to his old master's call for help. Perhaps he owed the boy for that much at least.

One last look at Qui-Gon and resolve settled firmly in his mind.

Rhagos needed to be taken care of.

It was the will of the Force.

He looked to Rhagos, still staring at him expectedly; had it had been only but a moment since the other man had put forward his horrific suggestion?

Dooku smiled pleasantly.

"I think you underestimate my Padawan, old friend," he assured calmly. "I am sure he will be quite up to the task."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was the sound of his own voice in his relentlessly pounding head that pulled him wearily back to consciousness; his own quiet words demanding that he return his focus to the present.

At least, he thought that was what he heard. It was definitely his voice, but it took him a moment to realize the words he had thought were in his head were actually echoing around the dimly lit room.

"I didn't even see that he wanted to be a Jedi."

Awareness reluctantly bled back in, pulling him toward an unappreciated state of wakefulness. He couldn't figure out why his voice sounded so sad, so discouraged.

"His grasp of the Force was shaky at best … "

Even more disconcerting, he thought he heard an echo to his words; softer somehow, resigned, more than matching the despair in his own tone: he thought, actually, that he heard the weary, familiar voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi softly reciting the words he himself was speaking into the silence. But that was impossible: he was here on Coruscant at the Temple, and Padawan Kenobi was lost to the galaxy somewhere.

But that didn't explain why he heard young Kenobi's voice, perfectly in sync with his own, murmur the bitter words,

"I think that Padawan Kenobi has been tainted by Dark."

He must still be dreaming. Qui-Gon closed his eyes quietly, and drifted back into darkness.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Careful to avoid getting any of Kenobi's … mess … on his boots, Dooku lifted the recorder from the table and slid it deep into his pocket. He would do what he resolved to do, and it was not a sign of weakness to take this small memento of his last coherent conversation with his old Padawan with him. Fitting, even.

Kenobi was mercifully unconsciousness. His whisper-thin voice had immediately begun mimicking the strong intonations of Qui-Gon Jinn when Dooku had first flipped the recording device on following Rhagos' departure to prepare for his little visit with the Garosians, but Kenobi had at some point during Dooku's musings and planning slid into a state quietly free from the pain his wounded body was gnashing on, the grief-stricken whine in his reedy voice falling silent until the only noise in the small room was the labored breathing of the two restrained Jedi and the roar of Dooku's own thoughts.

Dooku studied his own apprentice warmly, hating to see the powerful body and spirit confined so: the strong, leonine features, the stubborn set to Qui-Gon's jaw, the furrowing of his forehead that probably indicated a headache brought on by the shared link with Kenobi.

He would return for him.

"Please understand that I go now to do what I must do," he murmured softly to his unconscious apprentice, firm determination underscoring his quiet words. "Not because I want to, Qui-Gon, but because I have to."

At his soft words, Kenobi stirred, flinching as consciousness crawled back, reasserting itself with the painful reminders of what he had recently endured. His head sagged against his shoulder awkwardly as he dragged dull eyes up to glance at Dooku, struggling to focus his blurred vision on the Jedi Master. Dooku could admit that a small seed of pity took root within him as he studied the Padawan, but he knew better than to let emotion get too firm a foothold, just as he knew from experience here on Garos with the boy that any prolonged conversation with Kenobi would severely test his patience. The sarcasm-laced recalcitrance of the Padawan slid under his skin with an ease that only one who was truly disrespectful of the man Dooku was could achieve, and Dooku had neither the time nor the patience for that. Especially not now - he needed to strike while Rhagos was temporarily and by his own fault unable to hide behind the strength of his apprentice.

Nonetheless, he allowed his fingertips to briefly brush Kenobi's slack jaw lightly, regretfully. "I am sorry I can do nothing for you, young Obi-Wan." He purposefully swept his fingers across his tunic, deliberately wiping them clean even though they bore no visible stain. "I did try," he added. "You were simply too stupid to allow me to help."

He was a little surprised that no retort was forthcoming from Kenobi, just an exhausted dip of the ginger head in acknowledgement. Perhaps Rhagos had finally broken the little one, though Dooku found that he felt no remorse if that was indeed the case.

"… Master Jinn?" was the surprising inquiry that tripped from Kenobi's stained lips, and Dooku felt a startled but pleased smile slip across his face, warm pride suffusing him that his beloved Padawan had managed to get through to even this lost one.

"Qui-Gon will be fine," he assured confidently. "Unlike, most probably, yourself," he couldn't stop himself from adding, though he knew the taunt was beneath him. Kenobi had that effect on him, and he despised the Padawan for it.

"Even when … he finds out … that you helped Master Rhagos?" Kenobi rasped, disbelief unchecked in his pointed question. Dooku rounded on the limp Padawan, the final shards of pity immediately dissolving into anger as he knew they would, and he allowed a little of the Darkness inside him to show through, reveling in his mastery over the Dark without ever realizing that it was the Dark who toyed with him.

Kenobi shrank back against the wall at the rage in the Jedi Master's face, helpless before him, and Dooku could easily admit he craved the rush of fear he had created in the young man; Kenobi's defiance had disappeared as easily as if he had snapped his fingers.

"Listen well, young Obi-Wan." Dooku tempered his voice, allowed the Dark to weight his words though he was neither threatening nor brutal, but firm and haughty, and deadly serious. Whether he now spoke the truth or not he himself couldn't be sure - but all that mattered was that Kenobi believed him. "If you breathe a word of my involvement to Qui-Gon, I will be forced to kill him."

Kenobi shook his head wearily in exhausted disbelief. "No, you wouldn't."

Dooku's tone hardened, the surety in his words unmistakable. "As much as I love my Padawan, he would become a detriment to me and I cannot allow that." He lifted his fingers through Kenobi's thick ginger hair, the matted strands sliding across his palm lazily. "Qui-Gon Jinn is in your unclean hands, Obi-Wan. Would you have yet another life on your already overburdened conscience?"

A defeated tear collected on Kenobi's long lashes, his despair palpable, and the Padawan would have dropped his head in shame if Dooku's hand hadn't firmly twisted itself in his hair, forcing him to keep his face upturned to the Master.

"No," he whispered softly.

Dooku nodded, satisfied. He turned his back on Kenobi, despising the young man's weakness while at the same time grudgingly admiring his inner strength. Dooku glanced at his own former Padawan, wondering if it would be for the final time, and left the room.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He and Rhagos were evenly matched in their fighting style, but he couldn't afford to take chances: the lives of Qui-Gon Jinn and his new Order were depending on him. He had to throw Rhagos off, had to dishevel the implacable front in the same way Kenobi was able to disrupt his own sense of calm.

It was ironic, but more so amusing, that Dooku had learned something from Kenobi even as the younger man had had so stubbornly refused to accept any help from him.

He eyed Rhagos idly, having located the other man easily in the docking bay as the Jedi Master prepared for his departure. He could admit to himself a small rise of excitement tensing his chest at the thought of baiting Rhagos after suffering through so much condescension from the other man.

"You should know that Kenobi is planning on escaping," was how he haughtily announced his arrival in the docking bay. "He intends to convince Qui-Gon to take him back to the Temple." Dooku sneered, mockingly enough to sting, "I am surprised you were foolish enough to put them together, even in captivity."

Rhagos stilled, freezing amidst the motion of straightening his spotless robes, freshly donned after discarding the stained ones. "How would you know this?" he asked suspiciously, quickly putting himself back to work resettling the supplies he had loaded into a waiting speeder - but not before Dooku had noticed with satisfaction the first fine tremor jerking across the other man's now-busy hands.

"I heard it from Qui-Gon himself. My old Padawan, at least, has complete faith in me and warned me of Kenobi's intentions," Dooku explained smugly. "It seems that despite your … most enthusiastic efforts … you haven't quite managed to break the little Padawan yet."

Rhagos shook his head sharply, scoffing at the image of control of his apprentice slipping through his fingers. "Kenobi hates Jinn," he murmured distrustfully, but his strong voice was hesitant, carrying just a hint of doubt.

"He spent enough time with Jinn to form a training bond, did he not? There is at least a connection there of some sort," Dooku interjected pointedly. "Kenobi is clever - he got away from you once." He watched Rhagos carefully for a response, adding, "His determination to escape this time will be no less; he is merely waiting for the opportunity to present itself."

Dooku could now easily see the effect his words were having; a rage was building in the other Jedi Master that darkened his narrow face and illuminated his eyes with a hint of madness. Dooku understood that he was on increasingly unsteady ground, that he needed to be very cautious now - if he pushed Rhagos too far, he would lose the edge he was angling for. The time to strike was swiftly approaching …

Rhagos turned his back to Dooku and the silver-haired Jedi's long fingers slid toward his lightsaber handle.

He stole closer swiftly; he could see the trembling across Rhagos' shoulders as Dooku's earnest lies sunk in, his anger growing at his wayward apprentice.

Now! Dooku's reflexes shouted - his hand flashed for his lightsaber - but he was stopped cold by the words spoken by his one-time accomplice.

"Shall the blow come from a friend?" Rhagos asked quietly, his soft voice somehow breaking through the pounding of adrenaline roaring through Dooku's senses.

"I don't know what you mean," Dooku murmured, movement momentarily arrested as Rhagos turned to face him, pulling his dark robes taut against himself.

"I am no fool, old friend." Rhagos drew himself up proudly, sadness shining in his dark eyes, his expression twisted in regret. "What you have come to do, do swiftly and let us be done with it."

Dooku's grasp tightened on his curved lightsaber, unhooking it from his belt silently.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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