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Dooku hesitated over whether he should greet Qui-Gon when he saw him in the hallway. But before he could come up with a decision, Qui-Gon spotted him first. He called him Master, just as he had when he was still the padawan trailing faithfully at Dooku’s side, smiling as bright and unguarded as a warm afternoon’s Sun. Dooku felt the corners of his mouth curve into a familiar shape before he could stop it, and before he realized it, he was already speaking the young man’s name aloud.
He has grown up so well. Dooku thought as he watched Qui-Gon walk toward him against the sunlight. He was no longer the boy who once clutched nervously at his robes when he made a mistake, yet always confessed with complete honesty. Five years was more than enough to wear away the slight naivety of a newly minted Jedi Knight. Qui-Gon has grown his hair long, a a rather nice-looking beard, too. Dooku didn’t know if he had picked this up from him; after all, he, too, had never learned to acquire the look of a beard until recently. The sunlight poured in behind Qui-Gon, wrapping him in a soft golden haze, turning even his chestnut hair into strands of burnished gold.
Qui-Gon hurried over from the other side of the hall in quick strides. The hem of his robe still carried the chill of the air outside the Temple. Dooku watched the young man stop just a step away from him, thinking that if it had been Rael, he would already have thrown his arms around him. Rael’s head would barely reach his shoulder, yet the sheer warmth and passion he radiated was greater than what Qui-Gon and Dooku combined would normally show.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes beaming gentle traces of a smile, as if he was genuinely happy to meet his old master again. Dooku nodded, glancing over every inch of this very young man.
He’s tanned a bit. Dooku thought to himself. Too many missions, no doubt. His former padawan had always loved assignments that threw him into the heart of the crowds, and there was no avoiding the sun on missions like those. Qui-Gon shifted under his master’s gaze, feeling a little awkward being stared at like that. He cleared his throat and straightened the collar of his robe again, as if that small gesture could make him look less travel-worn. He had indeed just stepped out of the hangar after all. The pilot’s seat in his cockpit might still be warm from his body.
“It’s been at least six months, hasn’t it?” Dooku finally replied. The younger one nodded. They hadn’t met even once since the last time they ran into each other in the Jedi Archive, not even accidentally passing along in the Temple’s corridor. Dooku’s presence was requested all over the galaxy as one of the most renowned negotiators. He barely had any breaks in between missions. While Qui-Gon just couldn’t sit still. A young Jedi Knight was always eager for adventures. Even when he wasn’t assigned anywhere, he would still leap into his ship and fly off to some world he had only heard by name, going on his own small explorations. He loved nothing more than spending time at the local Jedi outposts, immersing himself in unfamiliar cultures and in the warmth of the people’s hospitality. Their schedules kept missing each other. Dooku might have just set foot on Coruscant when Qui-Gon was already flying off from it.
Compared to the way the young man throws himself into everything with pure eagerness and curiosity, Dooku was often the one more easily caught by waves of pang of loss from time to time. For full ten years, he’d had someone by his side nearly every day. Sometimes it felt noisy, he’d admit, but once it was gone, he realized he had already gotten used to it. It took a long time to get used to the silence again. Yes, a protocol droid might try to make a conversation with him sometimes throughout a flight, but that could never replace the quiet weight of another person’s presence. Every now and then, he’d find himself reaching into the Force, searching for that bright and warm signature out of the old habit that was still worn deep into him. And then it would hit him, that Qui-Gon was no longer his padawan. That strange hollowness would start to creep in, slowly, like damp air seeping into a thick piece of wood. When that happened, Dooku usually would stand up to find something else to do, brew a pot of tea, maybe, or check the cockpit for the time left. As long as it kept his thoughts occupied, he would take it.
Qui-Gon’s blue eyes were still fixed on him, and Dooku realized the young man must have something he wanted to say, though for some reason he seemed a little hesitant to speak. Dooku met his gaze searchingly, as if prompting his old padawan to speak and reassuring him. Only then did Qui-Gon clear his throat, a touch of shyness in his voice as he asked.
“Do you have time later?”
Dooku wasn’t actually expecting a question like this. “Yes, I assume I do.” He answered all the same, waiting for whatever might come up next.
“Would you come with me somewhere? It’s not far, just about ten minutes in hyperspace.”
Looking at the younger one’s sincere eyes, Dooku couldn’t find the heart to say no to him. He rarely could when Qui-Gon looked at him like that. Well, he really had nothing urgent scheduled afterward anyway. The reports for the Council could wait. Those stiff and boring members had far too much on their hands. Whether his single report was filed early or late hardly made a difference. In fact, it was doubtful anyone would even notice if he never turned it in at all.
“Let’s go,” Dooku said, not even bothering to ask where their destination would be. If Qui-Gon wanted to bring him somewhere, then let the young man take him there.
Qui-Gon looked a little surprised, as if he wasn’t even expecting his master to agree. Dooku followed a step behind Qui-Gon, barely restraining the urge to smile. Their bond that had gone quiet after Qui-Gon’s knighting seemed to revive a bit, and Dooku could sense the young man’s metal shield loosening just a little. Qui-Gon’s lighthearted mood flowed into him through that old bond they share, leaving Dooku himself feeling more unburdened and relaxed.
The young man brought Dooku onto his ship, sitting in the pilot’s seat without a second thought. The five years apart hadn’t worn away that habit that was already etched into his muscle, just as it had been when he was still a Padawan. It was only when the blue-and-white Aethersprite Starship broke free of Coruscant’s atmosphere and prepared for the hyperspace jump that Dooku finally asked where Qui-Gon intended to go.
“Chandrila.” Qui-Gon looked back at Dooku with a smile, “We’re going to watch the sunset.”
“Sunset?”
Qui-Gon nodded. “To the Silver Sea, to watch the sunset.” He turned his gaze back outside the windshield, at the countless stripes of the stars passing by in hyperspace. “I had the luck to watch it for once because of a mission. And I have been wanting to come back again of it ever since.” The moment the words left his lips, he seemed to think of something, turning to Dooku again with a hint of hesitation on his face. “But I guess…you’ve already seen it, haven’t you?”
Dooku hummed in agreement quietly.
“ Yes, I had.” He said.
The young man felt some disappointment. The excitement he had felt at the thought of showing Dooku something he found beautiful slipped away like sand through his fingers, leaving no trace behind. What he had hoped would be special for Dooku suddenly felt like nothing at all. He should’ve realized it sooner. During those decades before he entered Dooku’s life, he had already experienced so much and had so many stories in his life. He even had already trained another boy into a fine Jedi Knight. And now here he was, believing that maybe, just maybe, he could still be someone special to him, even if only for one fleeting moment like a fool.
Dooku caught every change on Qui-Gon’s expression. It was still far too easy for him to read his former padawan. There was no way Qui-Gon would be able to hide anything well from him. He raised him, after all.
Right now, Qui-Gon looked like some poor creature that spent so much time on a gift for his master but ended up being turned away. Dooku found the resemblance too strong to ignore, though he admitted that the comparison might sound a little exaggerated. He then added quietly, voice deep yet still gentle, “But that was a long time ago, and I hardly remember it. Now seems like the perfect time to see it again.”
Qui-Gon froze for a heartbeat. His master’s words washed over him like a tide, sweeping away the faint sting that had lingered in his chest. He didn’t look at Dooku right away, only hummed softly, as if he was afraid that anything louder than that would shatter the precious warm atmosphere between them.
Just as Qui-Gon promised, the flight was short. They landed in a small commercial hangar. Qui-Gon paid the attendant a few credits before leading Dooku through the side door. The hangar stood right by the Silver Sea. The breeze caressed their skin, carrying the scent of salt and water. It tugged at Dooku’s cloak. Qui-Gon had already anticipated this and wisely left his robe on the ship. He had no wish for it to trail in the sand, picking up grit that would never quite shake off.
They walked along the seashore for a while in comfortable silence. Qui-Gon took off his boots and socks, stepping barefoot onto the soft sand as the waves lapped gently at his ankles. Dooku walked beside him, occasionally turning to glance at the other person. His former padawan carried his boots in one hand, while the other tried to tuck back his long hair, doing his best to keep it from blowing into his face with the wind. Dooku found himself watching, lost in the moment. The boy—no, the man now—his padawan, the one who used to stumble after him with the eagerness to learn, had long since shed his youthfulness. Five years of countless missions had polished him, sanding away the raw edges of a newly knighted Jedi. Qui-Gon’s features had grown firmer, his expression clearer, the lines of his face touched with a quiet sharpness. Yet now, walking barefoot through the soft surfs, he seemed to have cast all that aside, returning to the warmth and gentleness that Dooku remembered best.
Then Qui-Gon suddenly stopped, crouching down. Dooku paused as well, following his gaze. He watched as Qui-Gon picked up a seashell: silver and white, with a tint of dark red like a splash of fine old wine. The younger man cupped it carefully in his hands and held it up for Dooku to see, gesturing for his master to lean closer.
“Look at this,” Qui-Gon said softly, “Doesn’t it look like you, Master?”
Dooku smiled. He never quite managed to understand Qui-Gon’s way of perceiving the world. The way the young man connected with people and nature was something even years of studying the Living Force had never allowed him to fully grasp. But seeing Qui-Gon holding up the seashell for him and saying that it resembles him…there was a tenderness to it that Dooku just couldn’t ignore. For all the composure and maturity Qui-Gon had gaind in his years, there was still that same closeness and sincerity Dooku had cherished from their first day together on this long journey.
It felt as if not a single day had passed at all.
The sky was slowly getting darker as Dooku gazed toward the horizon where the sea met the fading light. Qui-Gon slipped the small seashell into his belt and turned to face the same distant line where ocean and sky dissolved into each other. The sunset burned red across their faces. The warmth was faint, almost illusory, yet somehow it stirred a quiet heat inside, a calm that neither could quite name. Maybe it was because of the person standing beside him, or maybe it was simply because the moment was too quiet.
Qui-Gon was silent, like he were utterly absorbed by the horizon. Dooku turned his head to look at him. The glow of the fading sun shone in those bright blue eyes, dazzling. So much so that it seemed as if the whole sea and sky had poured their light into them. And Dooku, helplessly, found himself trapped in them, too.
“It’s beautiful,” Qui-Gon whispered, as if the whole of him were sinking into the sea with the setting sun.
Dooku reached out, brushing away a strand of wind-tossed hair from Qui-Gon’s face. His fingertips brushed against the edge of his temple.
“Mm.”
END.