Part Four
"You can't blame Anakin for that."
Dooku looked across the grey table to Qui-Gon. The room was still grey, but it was decidedly darker than the last time he had visited it, and it made Qui-Gon's ghost, projection, hallucination, seem all the brighter for it. Dooku almost had to squint to see him. He wasn't as startled this time, he had accepted before that this was a dream - harmless signals firing back and forth in his mind. Dooku had never been gifted with Force dreams, and he knew this was nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him. He stared at the apparition, however, and wished desperately that some facet of it was real.
Such thoughts would do no good, however, and so he clamped down on his emotions.
"Who else is there to blame?" he demanded.
Qui-Gon shrugged, leaning back and strumming his fingers on the dark grey table. "Who is to say there is any reason to lay blame on anybody?"
Dooku snorted, more than used to his Padawan's riddles from when the man was a teenager. "I'm in no mood for games, Qui-Gon. What do you mean?"
A smirk. "Maybe it was supposed to happen. Maybe it was the Will of the Force."
"I highly doubt the Will of the Force would care over something so trivial."
"Ah," Qui-Gon said, leaning forward again. "So you admit that the party was trivial."
"Trivial to the scope of the galaxy and the universe? Yes. Trivial to me and all the effort I've put in to this assignment? Hardly."
"Then perhaps it's a matter of point of view," Qui-Gon said, shifting his weight in his chair. The man could never sit still. "Consider this," he continued, "From your point of view this is a major setback - an opinion that has merit but doesn't know all the facts, granted - but a setback nonetheless. To Anakin he was trying to help you; he wants very much to prove himself to you. To all Jedi, really, he has something of a complex because of where he came from. To him he just performed an enormous feat: he interpreted your needs - not an easy task, I speak from experience on that - but not only did he interpret your needs, he also found means to bring about the ends you were looking for. Your response? To take his help and spit on it."
Dooku tightened his jaw. "I fail to see what the opinion of a half-educated Padawan has any bearing on this."
Qui-Gon smiled again, this time a little sadly, before leaning his head into a hand. "You've changed if you can say that and mean it. I remember when I was your Padawan and you always said that; but when I was older I realized, eventually, that you never meant it. It was your test to make me think more, push myself. You knew exactly how to push my buttons to make me want to try again, to be better, to grow. It's one thing to provoke that 'I'll show you' mentality, Anakin responds very well to it, but unlike me Anakin can accept it best when the person he's 'showing' is someone he can trust. You should know that there are very few people in the Order that Anakin does trust."
"Is there a point in this?" Dooku demanded, irritated that his former Padawan wasn't taking his side. "Don't tell me you want me to coddle the boy like Kenobi? He gets enough of that as it is."
Qui-Gon pressed on. "The one you really need to 'coddle', if you insist on using that word, is Obi-Wan. He's only just now come to terms with losing me, and whether you realize it or not, one word from you could send him spiraling back into that painful world of self-doubt. Be very careful what you say to him."
"Why?" Dooku demanded.
Qui-Gon's face changed; became utterly intense. "Because he's not the one invoking Anakin's lack of discipline."
"... What?"
The sudden left turn in their conversation did not change the sense of impending importance of Qui-Gon's eyes.
Gaze intense, face hard, Qui-Gon explained. "Whether you believe it or not, Obi-Wan is the best choice to raise Anakin. What no one knows, however, is that there is someone else pulling that boy's strings. Anakin has become the focus of a much larger game - one that the Will of the Force would hardly consider trivial."
Dooku stared at Qui-Gon, disbelieving, uncertain where all of this was coming from. Did Qui-Gon mean...? What did Qui-Gon mean? What good did knowing Skywalker has a second influence have on what had happened that night? What good did knowing Skywalker's state of mind? Or Kenobi's for that matter? Was Qui-Gon implying that because Skywalker was part of a larger game, part of the Will of the Force, that the disaster that night really was the Will of the Force? What kind of circle of thought was that?
What was he supposed to do with this anyway? The boys would be gone in a month or two at best, once a cover story had been created and an opportunity presented itself. He would never see the two again, so what was the point in all of this?
Dooku took a deep breath, struggling with his confusion and his anger over the events of the night and his frustration that was sometimes omnipresent with his Padawan. He refused to let any of it show on his face and in his demeanor.
Qui-Gon, in response, reached out and touched Dooku's hand, getting the older man's attention and fixing him with a sad, knowing look.
"There is a difference, you know, in controlling your emotions and releasing them, my old master. It seems that time has made you forget the difference."
"And what does that mean?" Dooku said calmly, tired of all the riddles.
Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair again, and made a sweeping gesture of the room. "If you were really releasing your emotions, Master, then why is this room so dark?"
Dooku rubbed a towel over his face, holding control over his breathing, despite the workout he'd just had. A few subtly asked questions at breakfast with the staff earlier that week had provided the excuse that they all knew swordsmanship, something Dooku's "son" had passed on to his grandsons. With that revelation, evenings after dinner were devoted to practice.
Against his will he noted with some surprise at the choice of styles from his grandPadawans. He knew Qui-Gon had favored the flashy and acrobatic Ataru form, and he could see elements of it in Kenobi, showing that it had been passed on. But Kenobi's kata and stances were all Soresu. When asked, all Kenobi had said was that he had changed styles three years prior. That had been when Qui-Gon died and Dooku yearned to ask the story of it. The complete story, not the edited reports the Council put forth or whatever the sealed file in the Archives was. But he kept his tongue.
Skywalker, by contrast, was still in Shii-Cho, unsurprising given how far behind he apparently was. Yet to Dooku's well hidden surprise, after only three years, the youngling was well on his way to mastery. When Dooku had offered to spar, given Kenobi's current inability to, and was surprised by his lack of surprise that Skywalker was already showing moves of the aggressive Djem So. A subtly asked "Why?" gave a half-garbled story on how Kenobi had once taken a blaster to the shoulder (when he was still learning Soresu, no doubt) and Skywalker vehemently choosing Djem So to block any more blasters sent to his master.
Noble. But not a good style for an uncontrolled Padawan like Skywalker.
Dooku held his tongue on that, however, as vestiges of a dream with Qui-Gon flickered across his mind.
Instead, he sought to address another shortcoming of Skywalker's.
With a controlled breath, he turned to where Kenobi was still doing his kata, despite the bound arm and Dayu's medical protests. "Obi-Wan, young Anakin seems to have no stamina to speak of."
Skywalker, flat on the floor (given Djem So's natural weakness to Dooku's preferred Makashi) let out a strangled squawk of protest.
Kenobi chuckled. "He... missed a year of schooling after the loss of our mother and we've been working hard to catch him up."
Translation - he'd been focusing on an education Skywalker had likely lacked before becoming a Jedi.
"H...Hey!" Skywalker attempted to sit up only to fall back again.
"Your father had some difficulty with stamina as well," Dooku replied. "There was a point where he'd been quite ill and getting him back to form was difficult as he'd lost much muscle mass." There was no point in mentioning that it had been a Jedi-aimed poison on a horrid mission where their contact had, unsurprisingly, betrayed them. Dooku looked to young Skywalker and smiled. "We ended up running fifteen miles a day."
"Urk!"
Kenobi grinned as well. "Was that all? Once a week he had me run thirty."
"Ah!"
"Hn. Indeed. Shall we start Anakin at something smaller? He's young and should have plenty of energy for, say, twelve miles?"
"One mile!" Skywalker wheezed.
Kenobi shook his head. "Remember, Anakin needs to build his stamina." Skywalker attempted to nod enthusiastically. "Say, ten miles?"
The youngling's jaw dropped. "Um, ah, three!"
Dooku merely nodded knowingly. "You bring up a good point. Ease him up. How about seven?"
Skywalker managed to scramble to his feet, huffing and puffing, and shouted, "Five miles!"
Kenobi and Dooku both looked to the youngling and smiled.
"Five miles it is," Dooku nodded in acceptance. "I'll collect you at dawn tomorrow."
The look on Skywalker's face was priceless as his exhausted brain caught up with what had happened before he pouted terribly.
Dooku held in a chuckle, Skywalker's pout reminded him far too much of Qui-Gon at that age, just before teenage rebellion hit full stride.
He ran a towel over his face again, with another measured breath and Dooku could almost swear he could feel the Force pulsing between his grandPadawans.
Such a strong bond. One not seen in over a generation of Jedi. If not longer. Fascinating.
"Milord."
All three turned to see Benaag bowing politely, Dayu behind him to start cleaning up the banquet hall turned training salle.
"Yes, Benaag?" Dooku was once more the calm polite noble, his amusement with his grandPadawans put completely aside.
"A call for you from Councilor Bridge."
"Of course. I'll take it in my study. I'll just need a moment to wash up."
"I shall inform her, milord," Benaag bowed out and Dayu bustled in to start getting their practice sabers and shooing Kenobi and Skywalker off the mat so she could fold it up.
Dooku left the quiet laughter behind him, already focusing on the task at hand. Councilor Bridge seeking him meant one of two things. Either, by some miracle, she'd forgiven the rumors that Goldar had let loose after their more private meeting, or she was politely informing him that she was cutting ties with him, since this planet so firmly believed in face-to-face communication, no matter how unpleasant.
After washing his face and running a wet comb through his hair, Dooku entered his office where the small hologram of the Councilor was waiting.
"My Councilor," he greeted with a bow of the proper depth.
"Count Dooku," she replied with a curtsey. With a smile she began, "I suppose you're worried over why I called."
"I am merely glad to see your honorable personage."
She gave a bell-like laugh. "Always so polite. I wonder if those grandsons of yours will loosen you up at all."
"They keep me on my toes," Dooku replied cordially, "that much I can assure you."
"Young Anakin most especially, no doubt," she smiled.
They continued polite pleasantries, inquiring on each other's families and small talk on the state of Zeltrax and the sorry state of the Republic.
"That reminds me," she said, finally getting to the point of her call. "In about two weeks time, I'll be having a gathering. A party to celebrate the turn of seasons."
"Yes," Dooku gave a polite smile. "I do enjoy the summers. An excellent chance to be outside and with the splendor our planet offers."
Bridge nodded approvingly, her posture easing somewhat. "I'm glad you agree. I would have had this party this week, but by estimates young Obi-Wan should finally be healed by then."
Dooku relaxed as well. Unsaid was her invitation, despite what Goldar had done, as well as how she accepted young Kenobi since, by this planet's culture, as Dooku's heir, Dooku would soon be starting to bring his protégé to such gatherings to make connections. While Dooku would prefer to do his work alone, Kenobi at least seemed competent enough to not mess it up. To postpone for two weeks just so Dooku would attend was testimony to how highly she thought of him in spite of recent events.
He'd also have to brief Kenobi on who he was looking for, but those details could be worked out later. For the moment, Dooku gave a deep bow to show his appreciation.
"I'm glad you'll make it," Bridge said warmly.
"I'd be delighted."
Two weeks later, at the party, Dooku was once more making small talk, only this time Kenobi was by his side. He had briefed his grandPadawan on whom he was looking for thoroughly during the little time they had without his staff somewhere nearby. Po Nudo was the head of the Hyper Communications Cartel, and under his micro-managing guidance, was the mouthpiece for a fairly substantial anti-Republic sentiment throughout the galaxy. The Jedi were concerned with such a large feeling of disgust and disillusionment among the people and Dooku was investigating to see if it was people just parroting back what Nudo broadcasted or if there really was some serious concerns that needed addressing. The Jedi could, under no circumstances, handle a civil war if it broke out, and as such, Dooku was investigating and seeking to nip it in the bud.
The fact that he agreed with the downslide of the Republic and that things were becoming more and more corrupt and mired in difficulty to do even the simplest things, made him perfect for the assignment. Zeltrax subscribed to Nudo's HCC, rather than the standard HoloNet, and indeed was one of the largest supporters, making it the ideal planet for Dooku to start his undercover investigation. Now, almost a year later, Dooku felt he was getting close. Close to the next person in the chain that would lead him up to Po Nudo himself, so that Dooku could take his measure of the man and go from there.
Councilor Bridge was the key. So Dooku and Kenobi made polite small talk with her and Mesagog, her primary supporter, subtle turns of conversation to try and reach that meeting to the next person he'd start to work with, someone at HCC so that he could understand their infrastructure and start working his way up the chain of command.
Kenobi was proving to be a remarkable help in this endeavor. He provided anecdotes of various planets he'd visited and some of the tragedies that occurred along with a few personal accounts of occasionally meeting a corrupt senator or bureaucrat and how people just seemed to be putting up with being treated poorly. If anything, the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, an off-worlder was completely ignored in favor of the fresh stories he could provide of how the Republic was no longer working.
"I do wish there was a way to share these stories," Dooku commented. "The HCC will show the corruption rampant in the Republic, but most of the galaxy simply uses the HoloNet, which I'm certain the Senate has in their back pockets." He sipped from his glass. "I've toyed with the idea, on occasion, of even some simple billboard advertisements for Coruscant or maybe the more mid-rim worlds that might be more on the fence."
Councilor Bridge gave her bell-like laugh, throwing her head back and letting her honey curls sway. "I'd hate to think what those power-hungry politicians would do to you if they found out."
Kenobi played his part and looked concerned. "Grandfather, Anakin and I have only just gotten you. Please don't do anything to make us lose you."
The sincerity of that statement was so palpable, even though it was subtle, that Dooku couldn't quite stop a hand from reaching up to his grandPadawan's shoulder. He was suddenly thinking of the fact that Kenobi had lost Qui-Gon and had been grieving for three years. Even if the pain was old and faded, it was still there, just as it was with Dooku. Kenobi listened to Dooku, attentively and with deference, and suddenly Dooku couldn't help but wonder if any of the Jedi back at the Temple had truly helped this boy through his grief. Dooku may be playing at being grandfather, but by playing the part, he was giving support and counsel to a Padawan-turned-Knight. Off-handedly, Dooku wondered if Kenobi was latching on to him as a master to seek guidance from since Qui-Gon was no longer there. And this was compounded further by the fact that Dooku was his grandfather in a way.
So Dooku squeezed his shoulder, and made a mental note that the staff was going to need a weekend off so that he could sit down and perhaps truly talk with Kenobi about Qui-Gon. Reveal his relationship to him, and thereby Skywalker, and maybe talk a little about how things needed to be done. Or... reminisce on how things once were.
But that couldn't be dealt with now. Instead, Dooku continued with the part he was playing for the party. "I would never put myself in harm's way on purpose," Dooku said softly, "but surely you realize that one can't simply stand by and let injustices happen? I'm not advocating a revolt, merely a peaceable display of information so that people might finally start talking. And if no agreement can be reached, maybe then, seceding from the Republic."
"A fascinating idea," Mesagog replied. "Nobody cares for violence, but we can hardly sit by either."
Kenobi gave a polite shrug. "I'm merely a learner that..."
Dooku frowned, wondering what had caused his grandPadawan to trail off like that. Indeed, he, Mesagog and Bridge were all scrutinizing Kenobi as all color drained completely from his face.
Dooku moved his arm from Kenobi's shoulder to his arm, seeking to steady him just in case.
There was a tremor in the Force. The Unifying Force, something Dooku studied but was only passable with.
"Obi-Wan?" he asked quietly, flaring his Force signature in an attempt to get Kenobi's attention. Bridge, ever the host, gestured and her butler came. With swift instructions, she ordered a room for Kenobi as he clearly wasn't fully healed from the "accident" that dropped them on Dooku's doorstep. She and Mesagog helped Kenobi to said room, before she cringed and left, needed to attend to her guests.
Kenobi was giving polite rebuttals that he was fine, but Mesagog and Dooku just as politely bullied him to a chair. Once seated, Kenobi leaned back and closed his eyes. In the Force Dooku had no problems sensing the reaching that Kenobi was doing, most likely along the bond.
Did something happen to Skywalker?
... Was that the reason behind Kenobi's sincere words of not wishing to lose someone again? Not just about Qui-Gon but because he was sensing something with Skywalker? Dooku cursed himself for his arrogance.
"Obi-Wan?" he asked again, with a touch of firmness, and a small push with the Force to remind Kenobi that now wasn't the best time for whatever he was doing.
Kenobi looked up, a split second of pure worry across his face before composure settled back in. "My apologies. I don't mean to cause you any worry. Please, you're here to enjoy yourselves, don't let me interrupt."
Kenobi was giving them an out. A way to return to the party. But Dooku knew with some sort of Force-given certainty that the moment he left, the grandPadawan of his that showed the most discipline and culture and was a shining achievement of Qui-Gon's many positive attributes, was going to do something colossally stupid.
"I wouldn't be much of a grandfather if I just dumped you here and went back to the party," Dooku replied firmly.
"And I wouldn't be much of a friend," Mesagog added.
Dooku turned, somewhat surprised at the open admittance, before giving a polite bow of thanks.
"Anakin..."
Dooku rigidly controlled himself with every ounce of willpower he had from stiffening and looking around. "...Qui-Gon..." he whispered, despite his control, and Kenobi looked at him sharply.
"What's wrong?" Mesagog asked, his voice dripping worry where his reptilian face could not.
Dooku thought quickly, running through the culture of the planet and remembering that their belief in communication occasionally included those who had passed on, from the more isolated regions. He'd need to edit his history a bit, but he could offer the truth. He turned to Mesagog and merely whispered with the awe and disbelief he had at actually hearing Qui-Gon's voice and not in some dream, "My son..."
Mesagog's golden eyes expressed disbelief and some degree of sympathy for grief and opened his mouth to say something before the lights suddenly cut out.
"What?" Kenobi asked, his voice indicating he was already standing. Emergency power from Bridge's own generators came on and Dooku was unsurprised to see Kenobi in a defensive stance.
Mesagog reached out and put a taloned hand on each of their shoulders. "I think attending this party might have been too soon," he said gently. "You're both still grieving. Let me escort you home."
Dooku mentally growled at the lost chance to speak with Bridge and was about to say something to keep them there when Kenobi interrupted.
"I think that's for the best. I'm worried about Anakin. He finds trouble with the ease of a nexu hunting prey. I imagine it will be worse with the lights out."
Oh yes, Kenobi was worried about his Padawan. Something must have filtered across their unusually strong bond and Dooku couldn't help but think that he needed to trust Kenobi in this. Kenobi was incredibly competent in negotiation and persuasion. To willingly give up what the goal of this mission was, even if Kenobi wasn't originally meant to be there, meant that whatever Kenobi was sensing had to be serious. Reaching for the Force himself, Dooku felt he needed to stay with his grandPadawan. If Kenobi was this distracted by something, it was worth investigating.
Dooku turned to give a polite bow to Mesagog. "We thank you. I'll call my driver and-"
The reptilian shook his head gracefully. "No, my friend. We'll be taking my hovercar. We'll leave word with your driver."
Dooku was about to offer a polite refusal, as was proper here, but he saw Kenobi shift ever so slightly, a tiny sign of his anxiety to get going, unnoticeable to the average person. With a quiet sigh Dooku decided now wasn't the time for proper etiquette.
"Let's go."
The ride through the dark streets was silent. Mesagog tried for polite conversation, but Kenobi was far too focused in the direction of their home, his countenance still far too pale. Dooku sat behind as Mesagog drove, Kenobi also in front and attempting not to look so stressed. Dooku was on the edge of his seat, a hand on Kenobi's shoulder as a reminder of where he was and in the Force, he sent small pulses of calm. Kenobi outwardly might seem worried but in control, in the Force there was a barely-contained surge of almost-fear. Flashes of Qui-Gon's funeral, a funeral of a young teenage girl, a fellow white-haired Padawan. Along with each brief flash was a sense of loss and not being able to save anyone. Dooku wished to do something to help focus Obi-Wan, but Kenobi wasn't his Padawan and as such he didn't know what sort of cues to use to help him concentrate.
So instead, Dooku sat there with his hand on a grandPadawan's shoulder, looking through the emergency lights that were flickering and failing along the street.
"Isn't that your butler?" Mesagog asked and Dooku turned to look where the reptilian was gesturing.
"It is." Dooku's frown was clearly visible through his beard and Mesagog pulled over where the gentleman's gentleman was talking, along with several other butlers, to a representative from the power company, who was calmly trying to answer their questions with information as he received it on his datapad.
"Benaag!" Dooku called, and his staff member turned in surprise before jogging over. "What's happened?"
"Milord," Benaag replied. "I'm surprised to see you."
"Councilor Bridge also lost power," Kenobi said, still staring in the direction of their manor.
"The power is out that far?" Benaag shook his head in surprise. "After the power went out we've been scrambling. Anton was working with the waterlines for the gardens and has been trying to prevent the flooding by hunting around for a manual shutoff. We don't even have backup power working. Tori's paranoid about the food and moving all perishables from the cooling unit to the wine cellar."
"Never mind that," Dooku interrupted. "Anakin? Where is Anakin?"
Benaag blinked in confusion but answered promptly. "He was tired after supper and went straight to bed."
"See?" Mesagog turned to them, his gold eyes shining with relief. "All's fine. Your grandson is safe at home."
"No, he's not," Obi-Wan said quietly, still looking to the dark manor. "Not in the slightest."
"Milord?"
"Come on," Dooku shifted over, giving Benaag room to get in. While Mesagog started down the drive to the manor, Dooku reached out with the Force himself. Skywalker's signature was nothing if not powerful, easily sensed, strong with the Force, and rough around the edges from not having trained for long. But the bright presence was nowhere to be sensed.
Dooku worked to hold back a growl.
Once Mesagog had parked, both Dooku and Kenobi were out of the hovercar, rushing up the steps.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called out. "Anakin!"
Dooku didn't even bother to call, instead heading straight up their grand staircase and to the rooms that Kenobi and Skywalker resided. He slammed open the door to find Dayu, their maid and medic, on the ground, unconscious, and the bed rumpled from where the kidnappers had taken Anakin.
Behind him he heard Obi-Wan sink heavily into a chair while Mesagog let out a low uncharacteristic curse. Benaag was rushing to Dayu's aid.
Anger was welling up in Dooku. Rage. He kept a tight lid on it, not allowing any of it to show, but he still seethed.
Anakin was his grandPadawan. No matter his relation to Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan, no one hurt those under Dooku's protection. He was a Jedi of the highest order, a Master, often considered part of the Old Guard, likely to join the Council due to his wisdom and experience. No one did this to a Jedi that he was looking after, that had trusted him to keep him safe...
"You should know that there are very few people in the Order that Anakin does trust."
That line from Qui-Gon ran through Dooku's boiling fury and cut straight through all of Dooku's preconceived notions of Anakin.
That child wasn't any sort of amalgamation of Qui-Gon. Not even of Qui-Gon's worst qualities. No, the reason Dooku often felt antagonistic was because Anakin Skywalker was a younger version of Dooku. Only where Dooku had learned hard lessons to not trust anyone. Anakin already had them. Anakin didn't trust anyone. Even the staff, whom he was friendly with, he didn't trust. Anakin was just as Dooku was after his old friend, Lorian Nod, had betrayed him and after his other childhood friend, Eero Iridian, joined forces with Lorian. Anakin did not trust just anyone, something Dooku understood all too well. But there was one person Anakin trusted. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Just as there was only one person Dooku had ever trusted and not been betrayed by. Qui-Gon Jinn.
Well, Dooku knew how lonely his cautious heart could be. And he would not let Anakin think Obi-Wan was the only trustworthy Jedi. Dooku was going to be one that Anakin could count on as well. Because Dooku had needed someone like that after his painful betrayals, and the Jedi with their detachment hadn't quite understood the way Dooku suddenly understood where Anakin was coming from.
He had tried for years to teach Qui-Gon to be cautious and not so trusting right away. Qui-Gon, by contrast, had tried to teach Dooku to have more faith in beings.
Dooku decided it was time he learned that lesson; and the greatest way to learn was to teach. He was going to teach Anakin to trust. Cautiously and carefully, but he would learn to trust in beings and the Force the way he trusted Obi-Wan.
"M-m-lord?"
Dooku's jaw worked to loosen from its grinding grip on his anger and he dropped his shoulders to try and ease the tension springing through his body.
"Tori?" he turned, "Are you alright?"
"Yes, milord," she replied, stepping cautiously into the room, tears threatening to fall. "They never saw me. I watched from the pantry."
Dooku started to stride forward, his rigid control slipping as he demanded, "What happened?"
Tori stepped back, shocked at the tower of fury before her. Mesagog put a claw on Dooku's shoulder and the old Jedi reminded himself that he was in the middle of a mission that just got complicated. With great effort, he let out a long controlled breath, willing his rigid hold on himself to return. And took another breath.
Obi-Wan leaned forward from his chair. "Please," he said quietly. "What happened to Anakin?"
"I... I'm sorry, young Master," she said, tears leaking from her eyes. When the power went out, oh we were scrambling. Emergency power didn't come on and we were scrambling..." she repeated herself. With a little shake, she continued more steadily. "Benaag left to see if he could find out anything, Anton's been growling in the back gardens. I was worried about the food and Dayu was getting smaller battery lights to at least give us something."
Dooku, in more control of himself, stepped forward more calmly and put a hand on her shoulder. "It must have been frightening."
The cook nodded. "I was down in the kitchens. Didn't hear anything going on up here, but..." Tori looked down and away. "I was in the pantry, just opening the door when I saw them. Two people. One was Human. Don't know what the other was, but not from Zeltrax. And they were carrying... Oh, young Master Anakin," Tori sobbed again.
"Benaag," Dooku said softly and with a gentility he did not feel at the moment. "See to Tori and Dayu."
"Dooku?" Mesagog asked quietly, but Dooku was already moving, Obi-Wan falling in step beside him. The reptilian noble strode after them. Dooku all but stormed into his office. His pragmatic, elegant office where every single object had a specific purpose. He went by his desk, where the flower arrangement set out by Anton was still wilting, as per custom after the loss of a family member. Once the bouquet was completely dead, it was time for the family to return fully to their lives. Dooku's flowers still had petals stubbornly clinging to life, much as Qui-Gon seemed to cling to his dreams.
On the wall was a decorative set of three swords. Diamond-based and honed so that the edge was no wider than a molecule, they were meant as Dooku's backup if he ever needed to defend himself without using his lightsaber. Wordlessly he pulled them down from the wall. The short sword would be for Anakin, once they found him. Of the two remaining, he gave the lighter one to Obi-Wan, who still didn't quite have full strength back in his arms, and sheathed the last sword for himself.
"Dooku?" Mesagog stepped forward, his golden eyes worried. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to get my grandson back," he replied. And then he would sit with these grandPadawans of his and properly talk to them. About Qui-Gon, about the lessons he'd learned, and the ones Qui-Gon had taught him. After he properly dealt with whoever had dared to take the Jedi under his care, who dared kidnap a grandPadawan, Dooku's legacy, Qui-Gon's legacy. All that was left of his only close friend and apprentice.
The reptilian noble's head swayed in his species manner, before giving a solid nod. "Very well. Such is your right. We must speak with your cook once more. With a better description, we will know where to hunt." And in Mesagog's expression was his predator ancestry with a smile that promised pain to any who would hurt a child.
"No need," Dooku replied. "Someone not from Zeltrax? That's the spaceport. A few questions there and we'll find who we need."
"Perhaps," Mesagog granted, "but do we know what lifeform we're looking for?"
Dooku already knew. The image had been clear in Tori's mind, a Sullustan, known for their small stature, large ears, dark eyes, and dewflaps. But he couldn't say that. Instead he gave an alternative. "Then speak with her. Obi-Wan and I will be on our way. Contact us through my comm."
He moved to leave, but Mesagog stood in front of him, barely taller than Dooku, and oozing the nobility he'd lived for over two centuries. Dooku stopped, remembering he needed this person as a friend to help get Councilor Bridge to get to the HCC.
"You are too angry, my friend," Mesagog said calmly. "I would be remiss to just let you go."
Dooku's brow twitched in irritation, but he took another deep and controlled breath, squashing all his feelings down and burying them. Really, Qui-Gon's Padawans seemed to always bring out things he thought he'd long since mastered.
But then, Qui-Gon often did the same. An inherited trait then.
"Grandfather?" Obi-Wan asked, approaching his side. "I want Anakin back, but we need to think about this. Going in rashly will gain us nothing."
But the Living Force always guided one to action, and Dooku was quite familiar with the Living Force. As was Qui-Gon. As was Anakin. Yet Obi-Wan was reminding him of the Jedi way, patience.
"A youngling teaching a Master," he said quietly. It was how he'd known that Qui-Gon would ultimately be his Padawan. "Obi-Wan, you take after your father far too much sometimes."
His grandPadawan looked confused, but pushed it aside. "I really must tell you some stories of Qui-Gon," Dooku said softly, memories of the best years of his life bubbling up.
Dooku's anger was still there. It was tightly wrapped in his resolve that he was going to talk to these grandPadawans of his and that his desire had been snatched away by some villain who needed to understand that Dooku wasn't one to be meddled with. But he let all of that go, buried it deep down so that he could focus on the task at hand and bring Anakin home.
Mesagog gave a nod and his warmest reptilian smile and the three returned to his staff. Dayu was on Obi-Wan's bed, still unconscious, while Benaag was trying to console a weeping Tori. A glance with Obi-Wan sent his grandPadawan to the cook and coax a description from her while he went to Dayu. Dooku may not be a trained healer, but after the decades he'd lived, one learned a thing or two. Mesagog joined him, his own centuries having the weight of knowledge with them.
Dooku reached with the Force to aide a few things as he checked her pulse and pulled off her bonnet to look at a nasty bump forming above her ear. Small touches of the Force, delicate encouragements, and his maid was waking up.
"Milord?" she mumbled, her voice slurred as she looked around, trying to make sense of things.
"Easy, Dayu, easy," he said quietly, helping her up and setting pillows as support.
"Ergh," the maid groaned. "Feels like I've gone a few rounds with Anton after he drags his dirty boots through the..." she stopped. "Master Anakin! Urk!" holding her head in her hands, she grimaced.
"What happened?" Dooku asked, far more in control of himself than he had been earlier.
"Master Anakin went to bed right after supper," Dayu explained. "Unusual for him. He's such a nocturnal."
Dooku couldn't quite hold back a grin at that. Waking Anakin up for his five-mile run every morning was a challenge.
"I had gone to check on him, but he wouldn't wake up." She frowned. "It wasn't right, Milord, and I was going to get a medkit." Dooku glanced around the room and saw the small medkit on the floor where they had found his maid, cursing himself for his single-mindedness and not noticing it earlier.
Force inhibitors. Dooku was working to keep from snarling. He'd suffered the indignation only once and firmly believed no Jedi deserved that horrid feeling of being cut off from the constant companion a Jedi always had. Whether the kidnappers knew they'd used a Force inhibitor or not remained to be seen. Whether the kidnappers knew Dooku and his grandsons were Jedi remained to be seen, as people of Zeltrax did associate Anakin's "loss braid" with Jedi.
No wonder Obi-Wan had felt something. The boy's Padawan was suddenly no longer there in his mind, especially given how strong their bond was. It was why, even now as he calmly spoke with Tori, Kenobi was tense and searching, reaching, for any sign in the Force.
That would make finding him more difficult until whatever drug they used had worn off.
Dayu massaged her forehead. "I don't remember anything after that."
Dooku reached out and patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry," he said quietly. "We'll be getting my grandson back."
Standing, Dooku went over to Obi-Wan and motioned for Benaag to look after Dayu. The butler nodded, ever the professional, and went to the maid's side.
Obi-Wan looked over. "Sullustran. You can tell by their dewflaps."
Dooku nodded. "And the Human?"
"Average height, muscular build, incredibly pale-skinned, I'd say albino, but he was apparently bald and poor Tori couldn't see any eyebrows or such from the pantry."
"Speaking of the pantry," Dooku said, looking to his cook. He paused, taking a deep breath and controlling the exhale. "I suspect from what Dayu has mentioned that our kidnappers might have gotten into your kitchen. Anakin might have been drugged."
Obi-Wan sucked in a breath beside him before a wave of emotion was sent out to the Force, relief that Anakin was still alive.
Tori, meanwhile, went from weeping to a towering inferno. "Someone used my kitchen! To take Master Anakin! Unacceptable!" She stormed out, crying depreciations on any who would use her domain as such and promising epitaphs of severe pain for all the food she was about to throw out as untrustworthy.
Mesagog, meanwhile, was on his comm.
"Dooku, young Obi-Wan," he said, putting it away. "I've called in the descriptions to our officer force. We should hear back from them within the hour."
Both Jedi nodded.
During that hour, rather than pace back and forth irritably, Dooku set Obi-Wan through his paces with the diamond-based sword. Because the blade wasn't energy, it took several swings to get used to the weight and momentum and remembering to compensate for it, especially with the precision of Soresu. Plus, Obi-Wan hadn't quite built back all the muscle from having both arms broken, so there was a great deal of stretching and limbering that Dooku guided him through. Mesagog watched from the wall, a blaster at his hip and a dura-staff by his side from a call to his own manor and having a servant deliver them.
Dooku hadn't known that Mesagog was capable with the staff, and wondered, briefly, if maybe he should offer to spar at some future date. Dooku did some exercises as well for limbering up. The physical activity helped Dooku bury his emotions so that they weren't so close to bubbling and boiling over. It was an exercise he hadn't had to do since he was a young Padawan. Or since Qui-Gon was going through his moody teenage phase, to be more precise.
With his feelings properly buried so that he might release them later, he talked with Mesagog while they waited for the officer force to contact them, planning for possible outcomes. Mesagog, conservative as he was, wished for the officers to handle whatever they found. Dooku flatly denied, saying that he wouldn't trust his grandson to anyone else. Mesagog didn't hesitate to point out that waiting behind the officer's likely lines would ensure that Dooku was still there for Anakin, but Dooku scoffed it aside.
"I do thank you for your concern," Dooku said, standing up from his stretch. "But both Obi-Wan and I are hardly weaklings. We are both competent and capable."
Mesagog braced Dooku's arm in a friendly way. "My friend, you're strength of will in what you believe in is a quality I wish more people around the galaxy might bare."
Dooku gave a warm grin. "My son would have called it just plain old stubbornness. And I'm afraid it's passed down."
Obi-Wan snorted behind him.
The lights flickered, but remained off. The sun had completely set and the lightmites were the only source of illumination not battery powered outside.
Dooku wished to be crawling the spaceport himself, but the time hadn't quite allowed him to look at things with some distance. Obi-Wan's tension was clearly easing as the hour went on, meaning that whatever drug had been given to Anakin was being quickly metabolized. Soon Obi-Wan would be the one guiding them, once they could figure out how to do so without Mesagog getting suspicious.
"Milord," Benaag came in, a small hologram comm in his hand.
Dooku straightened himself and hid his swords, both the one he'd use and the one he intended for Anakin, behind his coattails. "Officer," he greeted. "Have you any word on my grandson?"
"Yes, Count Dooku," the officer gave a respectful bow. "We have reports of only one Sullustran in our local spaceport here. We've followed him to a remote storage facility and are organizing a raid now. You needn't worry. You'll have your grandson back by morning."
"Thank you, officer," Dooku replied with a polite bow, cutting off the transmission.
"Grandfather?"
"Come, Obi-Wan. There's only one storage facility at the spaceport isolated enough for the privacy needed to keep our young Anakin and have nobody hear."
Obi-Wan gave a quiet chuckle and followed. Mesagog gave an amused shake of his head and trailed along after them.
Author's Notes: So we've reached the halfway mark (or over, given that it's seven parts). There's really not much to say. We've had emphasis placed on what we wanted, from Dooku's dreams with Qui-Gon pointint out things, the color of the room where they talk, Dooku burying feelings instead of releasing, Dooku realizing that Ani is a mini-Dooku and not a mini-Qui-Gon, Dooku referring to Ani and Obi by name instead of by their surnames, etc, etc.
Of course, there's a specific reason behind the kidnapping, but we'll get to that more in the finale. ^_^
Hope you've enjoyed!