Chapter 9

Anakin felt the mental break in Dooku's concentration in tandem to the burn he'd delivered to the man's thigh. Though he sought to capitalize on the moment, the former Jedi's loss of focus was only temporary, like a flash of light in a dark room. Dooku's resolve returned with a vengeance as Anakin felt him draw on the Force to block the searing pain in his leg.

Fury and dark power poured off the Sith Lord in waves. His responding counterattack - a wild flurry of slashes and cunning jabs - barely left Anakin time to breathe. The agility and stamina of youth lent him the necessary speed and staying power to maintain his defense. Alternately dodging and parrying, Anakin deflected incoming shot after shot, even managing a few intermittent attacks of his own to keep Dooku on his toes.

With uncharacteristic patience Anakin allowed his opponent to expend valuable energy in the angry retaliatory barrage. Gradually age and fatigue took their toll and slowed his attack. Even so, the Count's vainglorious air remained intact.

Anakin found he couldn't fault the man for his pride. It was well-earned conceit considering that Dooku's footwork and sword style had remained flawless throughout the exchange. Once again Anakin found himself a little awed by the old man's poise.

If only he could find a means of dissolving that unshakeable confidence. He remembered well Master Yoda's innumerable lessons about winning a fight in your mind before you ever set foot on a battlefield. He had the lesson down. He knew he could win this. He just had to convince his opponent.

As Dooku's bombardment slowed Anakin pressed forward. His saber became a whirling blur of motion. Time and again he trapped the Sith Lord's incoming blade, parrying with an assault of his own. High, then low, slashing at limbs, body, head. No matter what he did the Count remained entrenched. They traded blows furiously, moving forward and back, bits of glass grinding under their hard soled boots.

Despite the treacherousness of their footing Anakin was scarcely aware of his surroundings. Somehow they had ceased to matter. Even the ever-growing dimness of the room was no obstacle. His mind stretched out to sense each potential hazard around them: the walls, the pillars, the floor, the desk, and the chairs. He felt their presence and avoided them all as smoothly as if he could actually see them.

Time after time they traded the advantage until Dooku unexpectedly stepped back out of sword range. Anakin stood motionless, watching the older man pant for breath, lips parted as he leaned forward behind his glowing saber blade.

It was obvious that the Count was tiring although he continued to draw on the Force for strength. The expression on his face mirrored the wheels turning in his mind and Anakin knew he was seeking another method of attack.

Anakin quickly tried to recall what he'd been taught about the ways the Sith used the Force. Mentally he braced for a hard shove or possibly more Force lighting as he prepared to step forward and renew his aggressive assault. The Count must've read his intent because he took another step back before stopping to speak.

"You cannot win, Skywalker." He said imperiously. "I've lived four times your lifespan and already forgotten more tricks than you'll ever learn."

Anakin refused to rise to the bait. "Ah, but you overlook one thing." He paused for dramatic effect. "I'm the 'Chosen One'." His lip curled in what he hoped would pass for a confident, secretive smile. Only those who knew him well would've recognized that it also contained a bit of self-derision. In all his years at the Temple he had managed to avoid using the moniker to refer to himself, only to fall back on it now.

"That ancient prophecy?" Dooku sneered, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Surely you don't believe every myth the galaxy has to offer?"

In that moment Anakin desperately wished for a measure of the confidence he was doing his best to project. In truth, he hated the prophecy. Over the years he'd refused to discuss it, even with Obi-Wan. Now, he ruefully acknowledged, he would give anything to have his opponent give it credibility. Anything to shake Dooku's confidence and plant even one small seed of doubt in his mind. "You have to admit," Anakin tried for a mocking smile, "it is a catchy legend. Qui-Gon Jinn believed in it. And in me."

"Yes, my apprentice was a bit gullible where such things were concerned. Not that you aren't talented." Dooku's expression was disdainful, yet Anakin could see a genuine glint of admiration in his eyes. "Oh, yes, Skywalker, you are powerful. What a shame I left the Order before meeting you. Perhaps I might've argued with Obi-Wan for the honor of being your Master."

Anakin's jaw dropped in surprise. No witty rejoinder sprang to his lips. In fact, he was completely at a loss as to how to reply. Certainly no one had ever indicated that being his master was some sort of privilege. In fact, quite the opposite was usually true.

Despite the brief flood of pleasure such validation inspired, Anakin pushed aside the flash of ego before simply acknowledging Dooku's assessment with a curt nod.

Dooku must've sensed the momentary weakness. "Considering your growing contempt for the Jedi Order and their utter lack of appreciation for your talents, maybe we could come to an understanding." He took a step in towards Anakin. "It would grieve me to destroy you."

It took no more than half a second for Anakin to realize he wasn't even tempted by the idea of such an alliance. He backed a step, collecting himself. It wouldn't do to let the old man rest too long at this stage of the game, not when he'd worked so hard to gain the physical advantage.

"Would this be a Sith lesson in talking one's opponent to death?" He replied. "Or are you just resting?" Without warning he lunged forward, mimicking Dooku's fencing style. The Count's eyes widened as he leapt backward, barely managing to avoid the lethal thrusting point of Anakin's blade.

With a lightning fast swipe Dooku's saber came back up, forcing Anakin's weapon aside. Never pausing, he launched into a strong counterattack against the younger man.

The sudden renewed vigor of the offensive took Anakin by surprise. He just managed to evade the blows by withdrawing several steps before parrying. His answering riposte was a combination flurry that ended with a dramatic twist of his wrist. It almost succeeded in pulling the saber from Dooku's hand. Almost.

A feeling of satisfaction shuddered through Anakin as he watched his adversary draw back once more. Dooku's silver hair fell forward in disarray and sweat ran in rivulets down his face before soaking into the neckline of his elegant attire. The battle was taking its toll on the older man, his stamina dwindling as he was forced to recoil under Anakin's powerful barrage.

Anakin seized the moment, using the Force to block his opponent's retreat.

Dooku stopped suddenly as he hit the invisible barrier. Fiercely he batted away Anakin's incoming slashes before sliding to the side. After putting a respectable arms length between them he resumed a defensive posture. Intently he peered at Anakin over his bright crimson blade. "You've done that before. On Geonosis."

Anakin's only reply was a sardonic grin as he dropped into a collected attack stance. Raising his saber over his head he prepared to renew his assault.

"I believe I told you then," Dooku continued, "that you have unusual powers." He sidestepped again, forcing Anakin to respond in kind to maintain his position. The very air seemed to vibrate as tension built between them. For the longest time neither moved, then in the same breath both men charged abruptly towards one another.

The fiery-red blade met crystal-blue with bone jarring force. Sparks flew as the energy swords locked at their point of contact. Excited ions drew together in an unyielding magnetic bond, as if seeking to twist into one single beam. The two men drew on their knowledge of the Force to push away, using every ounce of mental and physical strength at their disposal to break the stalemate.

Almost as suddenly as it happened the blades reversed their charge, repulsing each other and throwing both men backwards. Dooku staggered, tripping on the dais only a meter away before regaining his equilibrium. Anakin stumbled as well, flinging his free hand out behind him in an effort to stop his fall. His palm landed hard on the floor, shards of glass embedding in his very real flesh. He pushed hard and sprang to an upright position even as Dooku moved back towards him.

The Count's patience was clearly at an end. His every blow was now was meant to kill. The scarlet blade angled up, sending the azure one slipping to the side. It was a maneuver engineered to pull Anakin off-balance, but the Jedi managed to both keep his footing and deflect the attack.

He brought his blade back up, spinning to strike at Dooku's off side. The Count retreated unexpectedly and Anakin's blade caught nothing but air. His forward momentum carried him into the swing just as his foot skidded on the glass fragments dusting the floor. His balance lost, he went for the most stable position he could find, dropping to one knee in an effort to stop his slide.

Dooku capitalized on the mistake, but not with his lightsaber. Anakin saw him turn his empty left hand towards him and instantly felt pressure on his windpipe. It was slight at first but quickly became crushing in its intensity. What the…! He couldn't breathe! A red haze started to swim in front of his eyes even as he heard the blood rush in his ears. Panic wasn't far off. He felt the floor slip away as Dooku raised him into the air.

In a desperate maneuver he drew upon the Force and flung his lightsaber at the Count's outstretched hand. The blade windmilled perfectly. Almost in slow motion Anakin watched Dooku's eyes widen, saw the cerulean light blade tear through material and flesh. He felt the rush of agony through the Force with a clarity that he remembered from his own dismemberment even as he fought to maintain his focus on the twirling saber. With a mighty pull the hilt snapped back into his waiting palm.

It was impossible to tell what happened next. The death-grip on his throat disappeared, the Count's severed hand fell limp to the floor and Anakin dropped to his knees gratefully sucking in air.

He raised his head to look at Dooku. The man cradled his injured arm against his abdomen but bloodlust still shone from his eyes. Something else was there too now. Hatred. Absolute contempt. His eyes never leaving Anakin's, he deliberately deactivated his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt.

Anakin staggered to his feet, the dizziness of anoxia not quite gone. He sensed he had the advantage. Pain from his wound had considerably diminished Dooku's power through the Force. The knowledge was heady, empowering, especially given that the man had just put away his weapon.

An expedient Jedi would capture the Separatist leader, possibly by inflicting another debilitating injury. As Anakin walked toward him, memories of Geonosis replayed in his mind. A mock trial. Padmé bravely fighting a nexu. Watching her fall from the gunship. The searing pain of his own lost limb. Raising his lightsaber, he discovered he didn't know which he would deliver: a life-preserving wound or a death-blow.

He leapt at the Sith Lord, his azure blade sweeping down in a graceful arc only to collide with an invisible barrier as Dooku stumbled backwards toward the window.

Anakin tried to follow but again the same Force wall blocked his way. In an agony of impatience he watched as his nemesis jumped out the broken window and into the darkness. The barrier dissipated instantly and Anakin fell forward, running to the sill only to see the dust trail of a speeder disappearing into the night.

Hopping up onto the window ledge, Anakin cast about furiously for any means of following. The radiance of Naboo's triad moons was over-bright, illuminating the courtyard far below. There wasn't a speeder or swoop bike in sight that could be commandeered to give chase.

Evidently Dooku had anticipated a hasty exit and stashed his own speeder nearby. Now he was gone. His retreating form had disappeared into outskirts of the city where darkness swallowed it without a trace.

Anakin dropped back down to the floor, letting loose a string of Huttese curses.

"Please! I'm not old enough to hear those words. I know you're still too young to be speaking them!" The sardonic rejoinder echoed through the room.

Spinning around, he saw Obi-Wan at one of the small side entrances. His master was leaning against the doorway almost casually, arms folded as if he'd been there a while.

"Master!" He paced restlessly, disgust and disappointment clawing at him. "Dooku escaped again!"

"The day will come when he won't be able to run." Kenobi projected a serene certainty.

"But…!" That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted Obi-Wan's permission to give chase, to follow Dooku to the ends of the galaxy if necessary. It wasn't forthcoming. He gave a frustrated growl. "We're losing Count Dooku for the second time! How can you be so calm?"

"Trust me on this." Obi-Wan straightened, moving to where Anakin stood by the window. "With an injury like that he'll be headed off-world long before we could catch him."

Anakin felt his master's hand come to rest reassuringly on his shoulder as they stared out into the night.

"You fought brilliantly, padawan, but sometimes winning isn't about defeating one's opponent." Obi-Wan sighed. "You haven't seen the last of the Count of Serenno, not after today. You've made an enemy there. For now, don't lose sight of the greater victory. The Queen is safely aboard the rescue ship and the Trade Federation troops are being driven from Naboo."

"The Queen? She's been found?" Anakin asked, not bothering to hide his amazement.

"Found? Well, yes. You didn't know?" It was Obi-Wan's turn to sound surprised.

"Well, I was a little preoccupied." Anakin's protest was matter-of-fact, lacking his customary defensiveness. "I was protecting Padmé…because of her possible role as temporary Regent, of course."

"Indeed." Concern flickered across Obi-Wan's face but dissipated quickly. "Apparently Her Majesty was masquerading as a handmaiden - not an unusual occurrence around here."

"Padmé is alright then?" Anakin sought confirmation of what he already knew. He had felt her reassurance during the battle, knew then that she'd been making her escape, and felt immensely grateful. One less worry had allowed him to focus more fully on the duel.

"Actually, she had the Queen's rescue well underway when I found her." Obi-Wan smiled wryly as he spoke. "I've always been impressed by the Senator's ingenuity in the face of danger. I doubt she needed my help at all."

Anakin kept his agreement to a simple nod, afraid that any words of praise would advertise the possessive pride he felt in his lady's resourcefulness. Inside he swallowed hard on a wave of relief that threatened to weaken his knees. His wife was safe.

"Speaking of Senator Amidala…" Kenobi muttered, activating his wrist com-link. "Captain, this is General Kenobi. Do you copy?"

"Affirmative General. Status?" A rough masculine voice answered the hail.

"Please report to the Senator that the situation is under control. Dooku escaped to the south of the city, but Commander Skywalker is fine."

"Will do, General. Her Excellency will be quite pleased to have news."

"No doubt." A teasing grin lit Obi-Wan's tired features. "She threatened me with grave bodily injury if I didn't report back immediately."

There was an answering chuckle from the officer on the other end of the com-link before he replied. "We'll send scouts out to search for Count Dooku."

"Good. I doubt you'll find anything, but it couldn't hurt to try. I know the fighters are already down, but you should put a few back in the sky, just in case." Obi-Wan continued to cover his bases with ruthless efficiency. "Please have all available troops meet me in front of the palace at once. With the damage to the city, it looks like we'll be needed for the search and rescue effort."

"Understood." The faceless officer replied. "I'll send them immediately."

"Excellent. Kenobi out." He shut off the comlink and turned to Anakin. Suddenly he seemed to notice the weariness in his padawan's stance. "You've got to be exhausted. Perhaps you should head to the command ship to rest a while."

Anakin waved the suggestion away. "I'm fine." His mind was already racing in half a dozen different directions. "There's so much to do."

Obi-Wan's eyes followed the careless gesture. "Anakin, what have you done to yourself?"

Anakin followed his master's gaze, surprised to see blood dripping from his fingertips to the floor. Funny, he hadn't noticed the injury until just this moment. Suddenly his hand began to sting abominably.

He turned the wounded appendage over to get a closer look, trying to remember when and how the damage had occurred.

As Obi-Wan leaned in closer, he pulled a small luminescent wand from his utility belt and held it close to Anakin's palm. Small cuts traced across the surface of his skin while bright red blood oozed from the wounds. About a dozen slivers of glass were still embedded in the tender flesh.

"My, doesn't this feel familiar." Obi-Wan muttered. "Here, hold this."

Anakin dutifully took the lightwand, grasping it in his mechanical hand as Obi-Wan cupped the wounded flesh hand gently.

"Familiar?" Anakin looked up, confused.

"I seem to remember a certain young boy who had an unfortunate run-in with a thorny shrub on Tarrellia…" Using a thin electrical probe from his mechanics kit Obi-Wan began picking out visible pieces of glass. His thoughts might've been lingering in the past, but his concentration was on the task at hand as he carefully extracted the offending shards.

"Master, that was a long time ago." Anakin couldn't help feeling a trifle indignant at the reminder.

"Not so very long." There was a hint of mirth in the older Jedi's voice, but to his credit he managed to keep all traces of amusement from his expression. Something about his Master's teasing finally cracked the cold knot of tension at Anakin's core and he slowly let his anxiety begin to fade away.

"Anyway, it wasn't my hand those thorns got stuck in." He confessed wryly, joining in the recollection. It hadn't been funny at the time, but looking back now...

Obi-Wan laughed at the grudging acknowledgement, his momentary loss of focus drawing a loud yelp from Anakin. Mumbling a quick apology he tore a strip of linen from his undertunic and wrapped it snugly around Anakin's hand.

"There you are. As bandages go, it isn't the cleanest, but it should hold you until you get real medical attention."

Anakin let his hand fall to his side. The cuts were already forgotten as he watched Obi-Wan slide the small probe back into the leather pouch at his waist. There was something that still needed to be said.

"Thank you." As displays of gratitude went it wasn't much, but Anakin meant it with every fiber of his being.

Obi-Wan tried to gloss over the sentiment; as usual he was uncomfortable with emotionally heavy moments. "No need. You would've done the same for me if I'd been hurt." He tried to turn away.

Anakin grasped Obi-Wan's arm lightly with his uninjured hand. The unexpected contact was enough to halt his master's retreat. Blue eyes met blue, crystal touching smoke.

"No, really, I mean thank you for coming here to Naboo. I didn't expect help at all, much less your help, not after the way we left things on Coruscant."

Obi-Wan seemed to be searching for an appropriate response. "Anakin, a few words uttered in anger don't erase the years I've loved you." His master's voice was gruff, solemn.

Now it was Anakin's turn to feel at a loss. Before he could say anything Obi-Wan continued to surprise him. "I know you have your reasons for pulling away from me lately and I know you aren't ready to share them. Still, you are my family. Closer than a brother, as dear as any son I'll never have. No matter how grown-up you become, any time you need me I'll be here for you."

"I-" Anakin knew he should respond but had no idea what to say. His master's words seemed to have stolen all rational thought.

"Enough said." Obi-Wan waved away any attempt at a reply before resting a hand companionably on Anakin's shoulder. "We've got work to do." As they turned to leave the room he stopped to look up at his padawan. "When in blazes did you get so tall?"

The subject change was deliberate, but Anakin couldn't help laughing, equally relieved to see the tense moment pass. There was more to say, but it could wait for another time.

Obi-Wan was right; there was still much to do. First, though, he had to see Padmé. Whether to touch her, hold her, or simply verify for himself that she was unhurt, the need was eating at him.

"Master, I think I'll just run over to the hangar bay and see if there might be a medic with a bacta kit for my hand. I'll join you soon."

"Good idea." Obi-Wan agreed, already heading for the main double doors that would take him back outside. "I'll get a rescue station set up in front of the palace and see you there when you finish."

Anakin nodded before sprinting towards the side door.