Chapter Text
Ten years could do amazing things to collective memory. It seemed no one remembered Anakin’s abnormal introduction to the Temple, only his later escapades and his affinity for flying. Neither was the prophecy a constant measure by Obi-Wan’s every move; there had been a rumour, when Anakin was twelve and no new Sith had re-emerged, that perhaps Obi-Wan had fulfilled the prophecy by killing the Sith assassin on Naboo and that the galaxy would be free from darkness for another thousand years, but most simply seemed to forget that there was a prophecy at all. Forgotten too, was the departure of former Jedi Master Yan Dooku from the Order.
Funny how these things came back to haunt him.
Obi-Wan was strung up by a containment field, arms held taut at his sides. A couple of Geonosian guards were clickering irritably by the entrance, but he had largely been left alone since his capture. There was a rumbling – he didn’t know if it was in the ground or in the Force, since both were unfortunately out of reach – that foretold imminent movements on a grand scale. Perhaps it was the droid army amassing in its factories in precise step, or perhaps it was the feeling of the Separatists preparing to do something that would make galactic history books. Neither option was particularly appealing, and unfortunately they were probably both the case regardless of which it was that he felt.
Movement in the shadows. A Force-sensitive presence, signature carved in stone, moving closer with deep-held confidence. Dooku. Obi-Wan had met a few former Jedi in his time, but none had achieved such high ambitions as becoming the figurehead of a fast-growing competitor to the Republic. For all the Jedi were servants of the entire galaxy, their deep-running relationship with the Republic made Dooku’s opposition a direct criticism of the Order itself. Not to mention his allegiance with Obi-Wan’s current captors.
“Traitor,” he declared the moment the door hissed open.
“Oh, no, my friend. This is all a mistake, a terrible mistake,” said Dooku, unconvincingly, “They have gone too far. This is madness.”
Obi-Wan leveled him a look. “I thought you were the leader here, Dooku.”
“This has nothing to do with me, I assure you.” He began to circle the way one does when they have everything to do with another’s capture. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite aim any more looks as he moved behind his line of sight, but he put the effort in anyway. Dooku continued, oblivious. “I shall petition immediately to have you set free.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped to him as soon as he was back in sight. “Well, I hope it doesn’t take too long. I have work to do.”
The two were unacquainted before this unfortunate encounter, but he found the esteemed Count a rather predictable conversationalist. Dooku enquired about his presence on Geonosis, he replied truthfully, then Dooku lied, straightfaced, about the bounty hunter quite blatantly under his purview. So far his acting resembled that of his bronzium bust which had been watching Obi-Wan trawl through the Archive’s maps for Kamino.
To think this man had once been an esteemed master within the Order, apprenticed to Master Yoda, no less. To think this man was Obi-Wan’s own grandmaster. He almost shivered at the thought.
“It’s a great pity our paths have never crossed before, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon always spoke highly of you. Rightfully so, if the rumours have any truth to them.”
Now that was interesting. “Rumours?”
“Your reputation precedes you, Master Kenobi. Defeating the Sith that could outmatch your master? Quite extraordinary. Especially amongst the whispers that you are the Chosen One of prophecy.”
Obi-Wan wished that he could have forgotten the prophecy with the rest of the Jedi, but it was by this point an integral part of his identity. He was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, and the one thing between Anakin and conversations like these. Paranoia was not the Jedi way, but Obi-Wan could never quite drop the feeling that there were machinations surrounding him, visible only in the thinly veiled agendas of people steering the conversation as Dooku was. Only the Force knew how Anakin would have handled it, and only the Force knew where such plots would lead Obi-Wan once they came to a head.
He came to the point he did in most instances of people probing him about the prophecy: questioning if it was better to deny or confirm it.
On one hand, denial would afford him the anonymity he had always assumed himself destined for, as well as free him from all the title of Chosen One entailed: expectation, veneration, resentment. Some days, he wished he could go back to Qui-Gon’s funeral and punch Masters Windu and Yoda in front of everybody before they could even suggest their plan; it would make Qui-Gon proud, he thought. Other days, he was summoned to Chancellor Palpatine’s office and thanked his past self for sparing Anakin such uncomfortably pointed meetings.
This was one of the arguments, too, for affirming the great lie; however arrogant he may seem, touting the title whenever asked, doing so kept all eyes on him and away from his padawan. Granted, Anakin was no longer the nine-year-old he once was, but he was still a padawan, and still Obi-Wan’s padawan. Even once he was knighted, Obi-Wan suspected he’d still feel an improper amount of responsibility for Anakin’s wellbeing.
It was this line of thinking that always won out, and so Obi-Wan replied, “They’re rather more than whispers, Count, though Qui-Gon didn’t live to hear them.”
“Quite,” intoned Dooku, solemnly. He let the silence hang, and it was ambiguous if the sense of mourning it created was genuine or mere theatre. Perhaps it was both. “I wish that were not the case; I could use his help right now.”
Dooku had successfully hit two of Obi-Wan’s pressure points in quick succession and it was becoming hard to keep his breathing even. This man had the gall –
Obi-Wan was openly glaring, all pretense of pleasant diplomacy abandoned. “Qui-Gon Jinn would never join you.”
“Don’t be so sure, my young Jedi,” replied Dooku, almost jovially, “You forget that he was once my apprentice, just as you were once his.”
If you were so close, why did he rarely mention you? Why is this our first meeting? I dedicated twelve years of my life to him. Can you say the same? Obi-Wan bit his tongue before he caused a greater incident – he was hardly in a position to pick fights. Besides, it would betray an over-protectiveness – perhaps even a jealousy – that had attachment written all over it, and Obi-Wan could not afford to expose such transgressions.
“He knew all about the corruption in the Senate, but he would never have gone along with it if he had learned the truth as I have.”
“The truth?”
“The truth.” Dooku met his eyes for a moment before continuing his circling. “What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of a Dark Lord of the Sith?”
“No, that’s not possible.” The Republic was designed never to allow one person such absolute control – any hypothetical Sith would be mired by the slow gears of bureaucracy that functioned partially as a filter to remove all but the most important and most solid matters from the Senate floor. Hells, even reaching a position in the galactic government was enough of a gauntlet that it had provided a systemic quality-control that had kept the Republic stable for a millenia. Not to mention how ingrained democracy was in the Republic – there was no planet that would willingly give up the power of their vote to a Sith with entirely selfish ambitions.
Instead of pointing this out, he said, “The Jedi would have sensed it.” This was perhaps the least convincing argument, but it was the one expected of him as a Jedi and known sceptic of politicians. It was also the argument that the Council had used before Naboo, though he preferred to ignore that particular line of thinking – forgiveness was a virtue and resentment helped no one, even in such high arenas as the Council.
“The dark side of the Force has clouded their vision, my friend,” replied Dooku, “Hundreds of senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Apparently, the Viceroy of the Trade Federation had worked with and been betrayed by this Sith Lord a decade ago – a timeline which aligned unfortunately neatly with that fateful mission to Naboo – and the Viceroy had told Dooku everything. Two untrustworthy parties, hardly infallible, and yet there was something niggling at the back of his mind…
“You must join me, Obi-Wan,” continued Dooku, falling back into predictability, “And together we will destroy the Sith!”
No matter his doubts, no matter how truthful Dooku may have been, there was no universe in which accepting his offer was the best course of action. Accepting would mean abandoning all he held dear, abandoning Anakin, for a cause that may not even exist, let alone succeed. Obi-Wan was a Jedi above all else, regardless of the follies of the Republic or Council, and regardless of who extended their hand to pull him away.
“I will never join you, Dooku.”
The Count simply nodded regretfully, eyes lowered and shoulders implying a sigh. As he left, he turned back to look him in the eyes one last time. “It may be difficult to secure your release.”
If that’s the price I must pay, thought Obi-Wan, so be it.