Chapter Text
Dooku felt the disturbance in the Force before he saw him. Casually, he placed his glass on a table next to his armchair.
“I had hoped I was...misinformed.”
“Hello, Dooku,” a familiar voice greeted him. Qui-Gon Jinn stepped into the light cast by the fire. “It’s been a long time.”
“So it has.” He studied the figure before him. His former apprentice was translucent and faintly blue-tinted. He had aged since Dooku last saw him, but was somehow that same over-enthusiastic youngling he had been all those years ago. Dooku paused for a moment, considering his words. “Why are you here?”
Qui-Gon shrugged. “I’d heard the Masters debating over whether it was possible to deny the will of the Force and continue as a single being after death, so--”
“No,” Dooku stopped him, lifting his hand. “I meant why are you not with your padawan? Why did you come to me?”
“I missed you.”
Dooku raised an eyebrow.
Qui-Gon sighed and slumped into the chair across from his old Master. “What would I say to him?”
“Is there nothing you wished you’d had the chance to tell him?”
“Too many things.”
“Start with one of those.”
Qui-Gon turned his gaze to the smoldering logs in the fireplace. “I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to help him. That my presence would only make things worse.”
Dooku leaned forward in his chair. He could see that Qui-Gon was really upset. He’d practically raised him from a young age and was quite familiar with his expressions. “You taught him everything you know, did you not? Obi-Wan is perfectly capable of facing whatever is in store for him, that much is clear from what you’ve told me of him. Every Jedi must someday face challenges on his own.”
These words did nothing to change the look of guilt on Qui-Gon’s face.
“What are you concerned about?”
Qui-Gon gulped. Somehow Dooku still managed to make him feel like a child. At the Temple he’d been a respected Master, but here he couldn’t help but feel like a padawan barely out of his creche. “I was going to take on another padawan. Obi-Wan was ready for the trials, but I’m not sure he’s ready to be responsible for a nine-year-old boy.”
“Qui-Gon!” Dooku exclaimed, “You can’t have left the boy to train an apprentice! What did you do, extract a promise from him as you lay dying? Would none of the other masters train the child?”
The ghost’s eyes fell to the floor, which told Dooku all he needed to know. “I thought I taught you better than that!” The older man stood and strode over to the window. Each step echoed in the otherwise-silent room.
Qui-Gon didn’t move.
Dooku drew in a breath and turned back to his former apprentice. “I am sorry. That was uncalled for.”
Qui-Gon blinked. It was unlike Dooku to offer an apology. And without any pressure from Master Yoda! Usually Dooku only apologized in order to resolve a situation of diplomatic importance, and never without resistance.
“Besides,” he continued, interrupting Qui-Gon’s train of thought, “no one can make their wisest judgments when faced with their imminent death.”
Qui-Gon was speechless.
“You don’t have to offer advice at all. He was recently knighted, was he not? Tell him you’re proud of the Jedi he has become, and all those things a young man needs to hear from his mentor.”
Dooku’s brow furrowed at Qui-Gon’s silence. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m sure it was something. Please, tell me.”
Qui-Gon sighed. “What does a young man need to hear? Because I’m certain I never heard it from you!” he snapped.
“Was it not obvious enough for you?” Dooku countered.
“No!” Qui-Gon shouted. “No, it wasn’t! You rarely showed a single scrap of emotion! All my life, I only wanted two things: to leave the galaxy better than I found it, and to make you proud. To this day, I’m not sure I succeeded at either of them!”
The former Jedi’s face became an unreadable mask.
“So I did fail. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
Dooku looked at the floor, unable to meet Qui-Gon’s eyes. “No, far from it.” He looked up, and Qui-Gon swore the old man was blinking back tears. “You were like a son to me. I haven’t always agreed with you, but I was proud of you. I tried not to let it show in public because it was too close to the attachment the Order forbids. I am deeply sorry I let you go all this time thinking I didn’t care.”
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long, but never thought of how I’d respond. I guess I didn’t think I’d ever get this far.” A pause. “Why did it take me dying for us to have this conversation?”
“Possibly because this is the first time in many years we’ve spoken at all.”
Qui-Gon shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “After you left the Order, I couldn’t help but feel abandoned. And many of the council members had their eyes on me, wondering how long it would be before I left as well.”
“They obviously didn’t know you. You have far more faith in the Force than I ever did.”
“I never did understand why you left, Master.”
Dooku couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t need to call me ‘master’ anymore, Qui-Gon. I am not a Jedi. I left because I found the Order to be hypocritical and ineffective. I know you shared many of these sentiments, but you have always been far more optimistic. I realized that my position on the Council didn’t allow me to do the things I wanted to do, and that was that.”
“And have you been able to do what you want to from here, as Count of Serenno?”
A smile spread across Dooku’s face. “I believe so. Things are changing as we speak, my friend. Things that may change the future of the entire galaxy.”
“Are you happy?”
“I hope to be.”