Chapter Text
There is little to do on Serenmo sometimes, great patches of empty days pile up into months but it has begun to snow recently which seemed to make the emptiness worse. Dooku can no longer walk amongst the vast grounds contemplating and occasionally cataloguing every plant for conversations with a certain old padawan.
The pursuit of knowledge or, as the council would refer to it, the forbidden was not quite so exciting as the phrase forbidden would suggest and had consisted of Dooku sorting through old books and records. He had practised it yes, flexed it like an aching muscle and he had even begun to hone the dark side. Sharpening it around himself.
But he had not practised it yet, not properly.
The dark side of the force was not to be trifled with. That was what he reasoned every time he collected artefacts and read through catastrophes. He had to be patient. Dooku reminded himself each time that he was certainly not being hesitant or cowardly, merely cautious.
It had to feel right.
The encounter, no matter how brief with boy Qui-Gon had trained, reminded him of what the dark side actually was. He had wanted to strike fear into that boy and he had and it had all been so very easy.
He had mocked the child for being so angry, so petulant about the jedi yet he had never had that sort of connection to the dark side except when thinking about raw wound leaving the order had left him with.
No.
No, that was not right. It was not a wound, that was merely melodrama mixed in with the cold evening. Not every loss was a wound, he reminded himself in a voice that was most definitely not his own master’s. The jedi had not wounded him in the slightest, they were a necessary loss.
They weren’t even a loss. Just part of the past.
The past wasn’t a wound.
When Dooku looked out his window, there was a trail of smoke winding in the distance and a twitch in the force.
His driveway was long but it was fairly straight as the line between the grand gates and his front door was almost exactly a straight line. Currently, the snow smothered the drive and there was nothing to be seen for miles but white.
That was why Dooku saw Qui-Gon Jinn immediately.
He was limping and Dooku was torn between rushing to the door and watching him from the aloof window.
Why had he come here?
As the figure that was now definitively Qui-Gon came closer, the Count remained rooted to his spot, unable to do anything but stand.
Pure indifference, he reminded himself whilst he could hear Qui-Gon's footprints, that was why moving took him so long. It was simply a symptom of the severance between the two of them.
There was sharp knocking at the door that rung throughout the rooms.
The poor knocker, Dooku thought absentmindedly. Had his old padawan completely forgotten his manners since he had left him?
Nonetheless Dooku reached the great oak door and mustered, whether he acknowledged it or not, a demeanour even cooler than the weather.
Qui-Gon did not look well.
Snow wove into his matted hair and not even the cold could account for the exhaustion in corners of his mouth. The only aspect about him that was not lethargic was the quick, feverish darting of his eyes that looked so far from his padawan’s bright, curious looks.
Dooku did not consider himself a nostalgic man but this certain passage of time was concerning to say the least.
“Master.”
“Padawan.” Dooku hesitated, waiting for an explanation. “Would you like to come in?”
Qui-Gon nodded and the passage of time that had so concerned him moments ago seemed to shrink into every memory of his uncommunicative padawan.
Qui-Gon slipping into their quarters without so much as a greeting. Qui-Gon engrossed in books Dooku did not understand without a word. Qui-Gon’s childhood quietness that would get so expansive it filled every room in their quarters.
“You asked me when we last spoke about Xanatos.”
The boy.
“I don’t recall asking as such.” Dooku replied, dodging the cracks in Qui-Gon’s voice.
“You asked me how he died.”
Qui-Gon really did not look well. He seemed to sway on his feet with the words and Dooku remembers Xanatos once more.
This lineage is good for nothing but death, he had said.
“You look quite ill Qui-Gon. Why don’t we sit down by the fire?”
“No! Just listen to me!”
The Jedi's desperate voice tore through the room.
“Really, I understand you’re upset Qui-Gon but you cannot just barge into my house like this and behave in such a way.”
“I am not your padawan any longer, you cannot treat me like a child to be scorned.” He shot back savagely.
“Whether or not you are my padawan seems to depend on your mood and what is most advantageous to you.”
That perhaps had been a step too far, Dooku considered as Qui-Gon began to back away.
“I forgot what you were like.” He murmured, “I forgot this is how things go with us.”
Was this how things go?
Did Qui-Gon arrive out of the blue only to walk out the door again, leaving everything as it once was?
Was that how things would go?
"I lied to you." Qui-Gon confessed, "the last time we spoke."
"I know."
"Yes I know you know because you lied to me first."
Not a confession then. An accusation.
"No, no I did not."
"You said you had not heard about Xanatos but you had." Qui-Gon pointing a shaking finger at him. "Because you know. You know."
"Padawan I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
Dooku knows what anger does to the force. It consumes quicker than you can possibly imagine.
"You know that Xanatos is alive." Qui-Gon raged.
Dooku could see the whites of his eyes. He thinks he could see his own face in them if he peered close enough. Finally, his padawan sees.
Don't you feel strong, he wants to goad.
Instead he raises an eyebrow and pretends to be unimpressed.
"A very ill kept secret considering he is walking around."
"Don't!" He exhaled raggedly. "Don't speak of him like that."
"Your trip is a waste if you don't wish for me to speak of him."
It seemed like the jedi in Qui-Gon had caught up with him because he took a few steps back and did not face him for a while.
"He is my responsibility. You wouldn't understand."
"Are you not still my responsibility?"
"You don't understand, master."
"Then enlighten me." He replied lightly.
"I would never abandon you!" Qui-Gon retorted bitterly as he finally turned. "You don't understand having your padawan betray you like this."
"Because I've only ever been on the other side of that sort of thing."
Qui-Gon said nothing and Dooku knew that was what this was about. The festering wound his leaving had caused because now it was happening to Qui-Gon again.
"That's what you mean isn't it Qui-Gon?"
The dark side feeds on many things, it's carnivorous by nature and anger, well, there's nothing better for it.
"How dare this happen to you twice? You think you can prevent such things because you meditated on it? Let it go?"
Qui-Gon said nothing.
"But I didn't abandon you, padawan. You're just too blind to see the world around you."
The Jedi took three steps forward.
"No. You do not understand because it is impossible for you to summon any sense of loyalty to people."
Dooku opened his mouth but Qui-Gon was too quick.
"And don't say you are loyal to Rael or me."
The old Count's lip curled.
"You are so certain."
"Prove it." He demanded. "Tell me where Xanatos is."
"If I could, I would. He was on Serenmo briefly but I suspect he left."
The anger in the force ebbed away with the bitter, bitter disappointment.
"I am sorry padawan. Truly."
As Qui-Gon turned away from him once more, Dooku thought of how proud Qui-Gon had been of Xanatos at his first lightsaber match and proud he had been of Qui-Gon at his.
And how he had left anyway.
And how Xanatos had left anyway.
And how Qui-Gon had come looking for both of them anyway.
"You were meant to know." His old padawan said softly but bitterly. "You were meant to know so I could forgive you."
Qui-Gon did not turn around when Dooku placed his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder and both master and apprentice shared the same words as they had when Qui-Gon was still a child and Dooku still a jedi.
It wasn't meant to be like this.