Chapter Text
As the years have passed, the middle of the night has become Dooku’s favorite time of day. Most of the Temple’s occupants are asleep, or at least studying in their quarters; the training salles and refectory are not chaotically busy, but are in use solely by the Order’s nocturnal members; and the hallways are practically deserted.
In this moment, the only sounds echoing through the halls are his own footsteps, and the sound of his own thoughts, loudly presenting themselves in the forefront of his mind. His train of thought is normally very structured and incredibly organized, but tonight, he is unsure of where his train of thought should lead.
I suppose it is not every day that one is offered a seat on the High Council.
Although I intend to say yes, certainly, I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss it with someone trustworthy before doing so…..someone who is not already occupying a Council seat.
I believe Qui-Gon is in the Temple; perhaps he will have time for tea sometime tomorrow.
Only if he is not too busy with young Xanatos, of course.
That boy is far too arrogant—too conniving—to be suitable for knighthood, but my former padawan has made his thoughts on my opinions very clear, so I shall endeavor to keep them to myself.
As he continues to wander the halls, Dooku is drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of someone quietly calling his name from farther down the corridor. The master cannot help the small smile that graces his facial features—he would recognize the voice of his former creche-mate and childhood friend anywhere.
Stephen Lochmann.
I have not seen him in many years.
The two come to stand in front of a window, allowing the moonlight to stream through and illuminate their conversation. Dooku has not seen his friend in a few years, and as he comes closer, he cannot help but notice how much the other man has appeared to age, even though he is only two years Dooku’s senior.
These past few years have not been kind to him.
He also notices that the man is carrying a small boy in his arms.
This is unsurprising, as his friend only leaves the Temple occasionally, solely to investigate cases of force-sensitive infants and children who are being entrusted to the Order, or whose parents wish to have their children's midi-chlorian count tested. Stephen’s health does not permit him to take on more active missions and assignments outside of the Temple, so when he is not collecting younglings in need of the Order’s care, he teaches galactic history classes to initiates and padawans.
Dooku steps forward and clasps his friend’s shoulder. “Knight Lochmann, it is good to see you, my old friend. It has been too many years since our paths have crossed.”
“Master Dooku, it is good to see you too, but please, there is no need for such formality. You are—and always have been—welcome to call me Stephen. I don’t believe I’ve seen you since your grandpadawan was knighted. Feemor, wasn’t it? It was very kind of Qui-Gon to finish the last year of the boy’s training, after his master passed so suddenly……especially, since he had just been barely knighted, himself.”
Dooku cannot help but agree with that: Qui-Gon is—and always has been—a far more compassionate being than he will ever be. “Yes, Qui-Gon is a good man, and Knight Feemor is a solid addition to our lineage. I have another grandpadawan now—a teenager who keeps Qui-Gon quite busy.”
Not wanting to answer any questions concerning Xanatos, Dooku quickly changes the subject. “Who is this young one with you? Another one of your ‘foundlings?’”
At this, Stephen smiles gently as he shifts the toddler in his arms to better face Dooku. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, coming to us from Stewjon. His planet is not particularly welcoming of force-sensitive individuals, so for his safety, his parents reached out to the Order, and I was sent to collect him. He is incredibly bright, for only being three years of age. We have just arrived, and are on our way to the Halls of Healing, so that he can receive the routine medical examination before being taken to the Creche. Little one, would you like to say hello to Master Dooku?”
The small boy does not smile, but he is brave enough to make eye contact and shyly whisper a hello, to which Dooku nods in response. “Good evening, young one. Welcome to the Jedi Temple.”
Turning his attention back towards Stephen, Dooku adopts a more serious tone. “How is your health, my friend?”
The answer is provided to Dooku before the other man even speaks. It is offered in the small, quiet sigh of contemplation, followed by a minute shrug of the shoulders and half-smile that does not reach his weary eyes.
He has truly never recovered from the virus that almost ended his life, and took the life of his first—and only—padawan.
“Ah, well…..I suppose my health is about as good as is possible, all things considered. As you know, I have a weakened heart, occasional dips in oxygen levels, and I still tire easily. But, these ailments do not prevent me from collecting and offering transportation to the occasional youngling—like this little one here—nor does it stop me from teaching all those galactic history classes to the older children.”
“You always were Qui-Gon’s favorite instructor; from what I hear, you were Feemor’s, as well.”
“They were both a joy to have in class, the former having an exceptional interest in history. It is good to see that enthusiasm for learning amongst our youth.”
As much as he is enjoying this conversation, Dooku can see the fatigue in his friend’s body language; it is apparent that simply holding a small child for this length of time is exhausting his strength. “Would you permit me to carry your young charge to the Halls, as we continue our conversation? I was thinking that perhaps—once things are settled for Initiate Kenobi—we could meet for tea sometime in the next couple of days? Truthfully, I am in need of advice, and who better to seek out than a friend who has known me for over forty-five years?”
Stephen has always been humble—he and Dooku are far different, in nature--and thankfully, does not allow pride to get in the way of his need for assistance. “Thank you, that would be most helpful.”
He gently transfers Obi-Wan into Dooku’s arms, and surprisingly to both, the child does not whine or complain about this change at all. Instead, he simply seems content to tiredly observe his surroundings as they walk. “You have had quite the journey, Obi-Wan Kenobi, but Knight Lochmann has brought you to a place where you will be safe and well-cared for, I assure you. For now, we will escort you to the Halls. I hear Knight Che has a soft spot for new initiates, and she will be pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure."