In tribute to Sir Christopher Lee; a remarkable man whom inspired love and courage in millions.
May he play the civilized Count, among the Gods.
"Kill him."
This was not how it was suppose to end.
This was not how it was suppose to end.
But alas, the Force would claim otherwise: Count Dooku - known by few as Darth Tyranus, Dark Lord of the Sith, the fallen Jedi Master, Count of Serenno, leader of the Confendacy of Independent Systems - knelt in defeat before the very Jedi Knight he severely underestimated, waiting for the inevitable conclusion to follow.
This wasn't how it should have ended. The fight was deliberate in the boy's favour, yet the puppeteer decided to rewrite the last scene above his student's notice. The curtains were closing around the Serennian, and Dooku will never witness the final act.
Perhaps, he no longer wished to, considering the play was orchestrated by the very same monster who betrayed him. His horrified eyes gazed at the villain behind it all, who was preoccupied staring at his future desciple - Dooku's replacement - with ill-concealed glee; a dark hunger gleaming behind orbs with an endless quench for power.
"Kill him now."
After everything he'd done - all those years of loyalty, of proving himself, of the promises of a new glorious future for the galaxy - all rendered to nothing by those simple words. The sounds of battle over the planet deafened to his hollow ears. The Count had been decieved, not for the first time, allowed himself to believe nothing like this would occur, that Sidious would allow him to see the new corrupt-free democracy for himself, that they, together, created to ensure peace and prosperity throughout the galaxy.
Now, the unhidden Sith Lord was paying the price for it.
He wanted to yell, express his outrage and horror over this betrayal, to lash out with his handless stumps and will the Force to burn the treacherous snake to a crisp, expressing all the rage and despair. Had Lorian taught him nothing? That betrayal was inevitable, no matter who or where the ambitions emerged from. Only one never truly betrayed him, and he was gone. There was nothing but the cold fury, yearning to be unleashed and exposed the monster for what he was before the uncertain knight.
But no words were released, only sharp breathing, as the pain over his hands sliced off him was too much to endure. Dooku supposed that was to be expected, being eighty-three years old and well above his prime. His time was closing, whereas his Master's (a thought he spat with bitter humuliation) was only beginning.
Instead, opting not for the last thing he saw before arriving to oblivion to be that Sith's triumphant look, Dooku returned his appalled gaze on his would-be executioner. Whom looked evidently conflicted; to kill an unarmed man was not in the nature of the Jedi, those rules warirng with the secret desires Skywalker held in the core of his being.
"I shouldn't."
A weak protest, the occupants of the room knew, as the dark side was much too strong in the boy now. Threatening to burst like a dam, built up from years of complete resentment, pressure and hatred, that repressing these emotions now would only make their release stronger. He knew this. Sidious knew this. Perhaps Kenobi would have known this too, were he not have been previously rendered unconcious.
Perhaps his Grandpadawan was aware, but turned a blind eye to the inferno that had been residing in his former apprentice.
The curtains were closing faster. And it was not to Dooku's liking, which was a massive understatement. His hopes of a new established government, free from the incompetent and greedy representatives of all systems, one where corruption no longer ran rampant from the foolish leaders placed only for the interests of few over the needs of many. One where the disorganized Jedi Order or the sorry excuse for a Senate no longer took control over whatever it pleased. A dream of absolute peace throughout the universe run by those who knew what they were doing.
All for nothing, now.
Sidious clearly desired no such views for the future. The Sith Lord simply desired power, and will even replace those who served him with undying loyalty - Dooku's own hidden plans of ursurping him nonwithstanding - without a shred of guilt. For treachey was the way of the Sith, as was to focus only the ambitions over the self over all else.
Was Dooku not the same, when he served under the deceptive Dark Lord so many years ago, just after Qui-Gon's death by the hands of that brutish Zabrak?
Qui-Gon...
How would his greatest pupil react, seeing his former mentor in a predictament of his own making? His Master whom trained him and raised him like a son, kneeling in shameful defeat to the slave he discovered on Tatooine over ten years ago? Would he express disappointment in his Master for joining the very same man whose apprentice killed him? Regret for not being there to train Skywalker himself? Saddened that his old mentor had fallen to the very darkness the Jedi feared, now succumbing to the consequences selling his soul to the darkness would bring? How his old Master had also partaken in Skywalker's eventual fall to the Dark Side?
"Do it."
In the end, Dooku speculated, it doesn't even matter. Aged knowing brown met young uncertain blue; the boy was close to the edge. He could see it behind those struggling orbs concealing unlimiated power, the potential to be wielded for good or ilk.
Skywalker will kill him, unfortunately, and he no less derserved it. Yes. Dooku will earn this righteous retribution not with a whimper, or a plea for mercy, but with the same steely resolve and pride he wore like a cloak. If he was to die, even by this reckless boy who was a part of Dooku's own legacy, then so be it. The Will of the Force clearly called for his death, for causing the genocide of thousands over a war created by his own bitterness against a failing Republic.
Geonosis. Jabiim. Dathomir. So many perished from his own ambitions, and now, for them, retribution was at hand.
Sidious and Skywalker will destroy both the disillusioned Jedi Order and laughable Republic. Not Dooku. Not Tyranus. It was rather fitting, should one consider it. He never truly wished for the slaughter of millions to ensure peace, but there was simply no other way to attain this peace. Not now. Many forget that darkness is a viable means to enforce tranquility and freedom throughout the galaxy, when used by those with the sincerest intentions.
His Sith teacher held no such goals. It took too long for Dooku to see that now - that he was a stepping stone for a means to higher power - and it was far too late regardless.
Ah... There was the hardened look in the boy's eyes. His demise was imminent.
Dooku mentally braced himself, shoulders heaved, hardening expression, taking his death like a man with nothing left to lose. His final act of defiance will never be giving his traitorous master the satisfaction of fear. As he heard the sparking lightsabers move towards both sides of his neck, only one thought remained as the Force embraced his spirit:
Qui-Gon... Forgive me...
"You were forgiven, Master. A very long time ago."
The sound of a voice he hadn't heard over a decade incited Dooku's eyes to open with considerable degree, the reality of where he was immediate to sink in. The first physical awareness the aged Sith Lord noted was the fact he wasn't even standing, but floating. The second noteworthy acknowledgement was the Count being surrounded within a light blue realm; vast and beyond reaching, like the clear blue skies of Naboo, and the third thing he knew the echoes of the Force whispered soothingly into his old ears.
His body was cloaked by pure warmness, as though the light wrapped around the aged ex-Jedi like a blanket. But was that absurd; he was a Sith Lord. Why would the Light Side opt to privilege him with such brightness?
And for that matter...
"Where am I...?" That quiet inquiry somehow brought memories of recent events rushing into Dooku's brain: The duel between himself against Skywalker and Kenobi. Kneeling in defeat before the powerful boy. Sidious' betrayal. The blades crossing as he felt the heat of the lightsabers sizzled against burning skin-
A sharp intake of breath at the realization of it all. Was that all a simple dream, or was he dreaming now... No. No, the pain he felt upon losing his hands was far too real than a fabrication which his mind would permit.
Perhaps... He was...? Dooku inspected his body thoroughly, mouth gaping and eyes widened in a rather uncivilized manner for a Count. Twisting his flesh and blood hands to give credence to this impossibility.
But how...? Was he truly dead? That must be the case. There has never been a hsitoric case the Force could restore one's lost limbs to their entirety. Perhaps Sidious was at play, playing some final cruel joke on his discarded pupil.
"Even in death you strive on pessimism, my old Master."
The second time his old apprentice spoke, and this time Dooku didn't believe it to be a delusion of his, as the voice brimming with compassion and warmth emerged from behind the whirling Count, speechless for the second time today.
But if the Sith Lord was dead, then that meant-!
And indeed, Qui-Gon Jinn, looking just as he did all during the time of Naboo's crisis thirteen years back. Standing before his old teacher, arms folded into wide sleeves with that bright, coy smile Dooku had longed to see for so long time now. All mannerisms and composure of his title was instantly dropped at the sight of his apprentice - his son - who smiled to his teacher with an expression of unbrindled endearment.
"Qui-Gon..." His voice sounded more older than it had evern been, Dooku pausing to breathe in with sharp disbelief, finding it hard to maintain a measured stance. Too many floodgates, threatening to release all at the same time.
The Jedi Master made a peaceful gesture, and just like that the Count felt gravity return to him, landing softly on invisible ground, making a light tap of his dark boots. When Qui-Gon spoke, Dooku noted the echo in his first apprentice's voice. "At ease, Master, this is no deception; you are one with the Unifying Force now."
Hearing that confirmation, Dooku recalled the composure he held for over his whole life and did so, speaking with a far more civilized tone. More suitable of his caliber, even in death. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Qui-Gon. If I am one with the Force, why am I here? Where has the Force brought me here?"
Not that it wasn't a welcoming sight, his very first apprentice being also the first to greet him in the Netherealm of the Force. And yet-
"'Why are you here'? This is the Living Force-"
"Do not be shrewd." Dooku snapped rather harshly, but his old student didn't even flinch. The Count proceeded to gesture to the entire blue realm. "Should I not be rotting in the bowels of the Netherworld with the rest of the Sith? Certainly not to be greeted by you! After everything I've done, all I planned to do that, why would the Force even consider allowing me to converse with the man who far exceeded me decades prior?"
Qui-Gon shrugged, having grown use to Dooku's tirades a long time ago, answering as if it were a casual concern, "Because I requested so."
Dooku rolled his eyes. "Then even in death, you remain a fool." The disgraced Sith frowning with disapproval. "I am not the same man whom trained you for a decade, Qui-Gon. I am... Was a Sith Lord, the Count of Serenno, leader of a Seperatist movement with the intent on tearing down your precious Republic and Order. Or has the Force never deigned to show you what occurs in the living galaxy?"
"I've seen everything, Master."
That comment caused the ex-Jedi Master to blink. "And yet you still... Forgive me?"
"I do."
It wasn't possible. "But-"
"Please Master, for once, let the Padawan speak." That firm, yet not unkind tone, had Dooku oblige, partly because he desired to hear Qui-Gon talk once more; it has been too long, like a warm campfire in a dark woods. Satisfied, the student continued calmly. "You are responsible for many of wrongdoings, causing death to countless beings, assisted in the inevitable downfall of our brothers and sisters. But I forgive you, Master, for them all regardless."
He pointed ignored the address that he was still a Jedi to Qui-Gon's eyes, repressing the hint of shame bubbling inside to ask the burning inquiry on his mind, "...Why?"
Instead of providing a useful answer to that, Qui-Gon answered with his own question, "Given the chance, Master, would you rectify everything you've done?"
Dooku blinked. "I beg your pardon."
His first Padawan smirked. "You're not deaf, Master, not yet." Death clearly hadn't mitigated that cheek. "If a moment to undo all you have done, all the deaths of strangers and close friends, all the choas and further corruption you and your Sith Master caused for many years, slowly seducing Anakin to the dark side." Those knowing blue-gray met perplexed brown. "Would you go back, given the oppoturnity, and remedy all of that?"
What was Qui-Gon's point? More important, what would be the Count's answer to that hypothetical? He rarely regretted everything he had done in life. Of course his old training as a Jedi, the friendships he had forged with others long ago instilled some measure of remorse for his own deeds. Geonosis was the pinnacle of this guilt.
But it was all for the greater good; the Republic was a vile disease that had to be purged from the galaxy to make something new, an improvement to purge the corruption which prompted endless suffering from complancency. Surely Qui-Gon knew this as well. And yet...
Was it all worth it...?
In the end, it appeared otherwise. The Force still seemed to whisper no matter what he did, the concluding path will always be being asked this very question from the ghostly Qui-Gon Jinn, as Dooku finally noticed the blue glow outlining the Jedi's body. Even in death he wore that infuriating calm expression, as he waited patiently for his old Master's answer.
Just what was his answer?
What would Dooku change? The creation of the Seperatist movement? The death of innocents? The death of Sifo Dyas? His Padawan's death...?
"...Yes."
"What was that, Master?"
"You heard me." Dooku was in no mood for games, filled with a new feel of strength. Nodding firmly to the younger man, "I would fix everything I could." When Qui-Gon smiled, Dooku frowned. "Do not misunderstand me, my old apprentice, the Republic remains incompetent and corrupt to the core, filled with greedy selfish beareucrats whom prefer credits over the welfare of their own people."
The Count paused a take a long, deep breath. Eyes cast to the blue mist below that made up whatever he was stepping on.
"But... I realise now that Palpatine never shared my goals for a more peaceful democracy; he only craves absolute control, and will use your-" He paused, gazing back up to the Jedi Master. "Our legacy to achieve as such."
"So you would go back."
A statement. Dooku nodded. "Given the oppotunity." Already the aged Sith felt quite weary of his old Padawan's riddles; they were exasperating decades prior, and little had changed.
A light smile bloomed on Qui-Gon's face, and he sounded rather pleased. "Then there's hope for the Jedi yet."
Dooku frowned. What did he-? And suddently the aged Sith Lord felt very light-headed, resting his restored fingers over his wrinkled forehead. "What... What is this...?"
"You still have much to do, Master Dooku." Qui-Gons voice sounding very far away. "The Will of the Force desires you try again, not just for yourself, but for the Jedi, for Obi-Wan, for Anakin, for every living thing in the galaxy."
"I don't understand..." Everything was beginning to go blurry. Was the Force putting him to rest? Was there more to the hypothetical question asked of him? Was the Qui-Gon before him really a manifestation, a way of testing the aged former Jedi?
Before he succumbed to the realm of sleep, the last thing he was was that irritable amused smile of his old student's. "May the Force be with you... Father."
"- Dooku? Master Dooku!"
A newfound wave of oxygen had flown into his lungs, prompting his chest to expand heavily in surprise, reality slowly returning to the old Sith Lord. All sense were coming back naturally to him save for his vision, which was befuddlingly hazy. Instinctively reaching a hand to his thorbbing temple, Dooku felt a cold hardness against his knees, which indicated he was kneeling against some hard carved ground.
Where was he this time? Last thing Dooku recalled was speaking to- A hollow gasp exscaped him
"Qui-Gon!"
And suddenly his vision completely cleared, as the Jedi Master looked upwards to see his old apprentice again, a question on the tip of his-
...What?
Instead of the old Padawan towering above him with that infuriating humoured expression, the Count was greeted by the concerned wrinkled features of an old friend. One whom he had never expected to see in the flesh again.
Jocasta Nu, Chief Jedi Archivist, appraised her old colleague, gently resting a soft hand on the Sith's shoulder. Her touch warm and brimming with compassion, it almost burned. "Are you well, Master Dooku? Should I call the healers?"
What... What was happening right now? Was this Jedi so blissfully unaware they were no longer friends, much less allies? That Dooku had forsaken his upbringing in her precious Order over a decade ago? Why was she not calling for security as opposed to staring down on him with genuine concer-?
The Light Side of the Force assaulted Dooku's mind like a tornado, the Count whirling around in stunned disbelief, finally taking notice to the countless shelves surrounding the duo, glowing blue with the stacked rows of gathered knowledge of millennias. Confused brown expanding in rapid comprehension.
I'm... I'm in the Jedi Temple. But how?
Common sense and rationality forced the Count to believe this was all simply a dream. Or worse, an illusion fabricated by the Force as some form of twisted punishment for his misdeeds against the galaxy. And yet, it felt shockingly real. Staring up into those kind gentle eyes of an old friend seemed to confirm that this was somehow all real; her Force signature was too sincere.
But he died! Dooku knew that. No one, no matter how powerful they are with the Force, could survive a clean decapitation.
Unless...
"What... What happened?" The ex-Jedi found himself struggling to say, vaguely noticing how... Spry his voice sounded compared to earlier, as if it were less raspy. His former colleague assisted him in standing back, allowing him to lean in with support.
"You caused quite a scene, that's what." Jocasta replied with a hint of amusement, gesturing to the wide-eyed crowd of Padawans and Younglings who were currently studying within the vast archives. Looking back, the Jedi Librarian continued with a sincere tone, "Are you sure you're well, Master Dooku? I don't believe you've collasped like that since Master Tholme had you conduct those Niman training sessions."
Against himself, the aged Sith Lord scoffed. "I told that old man that style wasn't suited to my needs." Then, as common sense finally took over, Dooku shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, Madame Jocasta, but what precisely happened to me?"
"You collasped, out of the blue, on entering the doorway." The librarian clarified, once allowing her old colleague some breathing space, keeping a supprotive hand on her shoulder. Did she not sense the darkness in her old clanmate? "It was quite horrifying, you looked as though you couldn't breathe, and then you yelled Master Jinn's name. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say the Force alerted you to his presence: Master Jinn had recently returned to the Temple with Padawan Kenobi."
The ex-Jedi frowned in confusion. 'Padawan Kenobi'? She made it sound as though the Count had time-travelled - which was beyond impossible - or this was simply a trick concieved by either the Jedi, or the Force. "You must be mistaken, my old student isn't-"
But before he could correct the librarian on her belief that Qui-Gon was even alive, or point a lightsaber at her neck since she's a Jedi, the old bond that was severed, brutally, long ago was felt now by the Count in full. This caused the old man to stagger back in shock, nearly collapsing again, resting his palm on the heated forehead. The implications strongly there: The presence of his old pupil alive and as vibrant as ever evident not so far away, within the heart of the Temple.
Qui-Gon...
Fully ignoring the the concerned voice of his ex-colleague, Dooku abandoned all displays of grace and prowess in his poise, spinning with a swift exit, brushing past any Jedi whom stood in his way, uncaring if he saw ghosts or not. He vageuly noted some staring at him in shock by the outward emotions that he, of all people, was displaying in his haste to see his pupil, fulfilled with a new sensation which had faded over the years.
Purpose
If by some miracle that he, Dooku, had somehow travelled to the past, then by the Force Dooku wasn't going to turn back on everything he had vowed to his old student in the Netherworld:
Everything will change. First, it will begin with saving his son.