Title: like ashes and embers
Ship: Dooku/Qui-Gon (but lots of disaster lineage feels) for @shatouto
Summary: Qui-Gon didn’t recognize the galaxy anymore. He saw all the cracks he had been able to trace before his passing, but somehow, in just under a decade, those cracks had grown into canyons larger than entire systems. Qui-Gon contemplated his relationship with his Master.
AN: Read on AO3! I hope you like it!
Qui-Gon didn’t recognize the galaxy anymore. He saw all the cracks he had been able to trace before his passing, but somehow, in just under a decade, those cracks had grown into canyons larger than entire systems. They were at war, fighting for goals he could hardly see clearly anymore. Upon his awakening, he had thought he knew what his goal was, what he should do with his second chance.
It wasn’t so clear anymore. All the lines blurred together and the only truth he could trust in was the Force, his steady companion.
“Master Jinn?”
He turned around, away from the window of his ship.
That too had taken some getting used to. Qui-Gon was no stranger to war itself, he had fought plenty of battles and civil wars. His lineage wasn’t exactly known for being subtle or able to hold back when faced with injustice. While those character traits didn’t make their lives any easier, they were still remarkable and he hoped he had passed those qualities on.
“Ahsoka,” he greeted the apprentice standing in front of her. She moved comfortably in her dark armor, as if it were a second skin, not unlike those of the brothers who followed them. While the clones had made their own culture, taken bits of the Mandalorian stories their template had shared, the Jedi tales they had been taught by their Generals, and something that was very distinctly only them, all traditions acknowledge the need for proper dress on the battlefield. They had, apparently, been quite horrified when they had met little Ahsoka for the first time, not wearing any kind of protection at all.
Ahsoka was no little child anymore. She was still a teenager, yes, but with her seventeen years, she almost stood as tall as her Master. She was bound to surpass him anytime in the next year, something Anakin steadily refused to think about while everyone else had their fun reminding him of it.
“Can I help you?” Qui-Gon asked.
Ahsoka sighed and pointed in the direction of the door. “Grandmaster’s calling, something about our attack on the enemy forces.”
Qui-Gon frowned. He was sure that Anakin was supposed to be in charge of the upcoming battle. They had made quite a lot of plans in that regard, Obi-Wan taking the defense while Qui-Gon sat this one out, his fleet only providing back up if necessary, and already rushing to the next system that needed their help.
“Any last-minute changes?” Qui-Gon asked as he fell into step next to Ahsoka. The young woman shook her head and shrugged. “I thought so, but no. Any idea where Skyguy is, by the way? He said he’d practice my Jar’Kai with me again, but I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Have you checked Obi-Wan’s cabin?” Qui-Gon replied, amusement coloring his words.
Ahsoka only rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not stupid, that’s the first place I check. It’s not like he actually sleeps in his own cabin, which is entirely unfair because it’s bigger than mine.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the perfect picture of a pouty Padawan. “Maybe I’ll just make a ship-wide announcement. Hey, Skyguy, if you’re done doing-“
“If I’m done doing what exactly?”
Ahsoka jerked as Anakin walked out of the next hallway, already dressed sharply for battle. He too was wearing dark armor and beneath that, black robes, the sigil of their army displayed proudly on his shoulders.
“Uh, nothing?” Ahsoka replied hastily. “Doesn’t matter! You promised me training and you didn’t show!”
Accusingly, she pointed her finger at him, a gesture he was sure she had picked up from Anakin as the young man didn’t even hesitate to mirror her, beginning to lecture about duties and more important things than perfecting her already stunning Jar’Kai. Watching the two of them argue was a delight to say the least. They fit well together, and Anakin was a good teacher to her, despite the few years separating them. Taking on students so close to your own age was always difficult and brought challenges of their own. Qui-Gon had been quite shocked to learn that Anakin had been assigned a student due to the war and some other underlying hopes he didn’t dare think even closer upon. The Jedi had already fallen so low, he did not want to think of even more flaws.
Qui-Gon left the two of them to their bickering and headed towards the door where he knew his Master lingered. He tapped in the key for the door and stepped inside, unphased when the door closed and locked behind him. He was already used to his Master’s antics.
Dooku was standing at the very end of the room, looking outside of the windows to observe the vastness of space surrounding them, similar to the way Qui-Gon had just minutes before.
“Your manners haven’t improved in the slightest,” Dooku said in lieu of greeting, not looking away from the dark.
Qui-Gon suppressed a rather childish snort and walked towards his Master instead. For all that Dooku prided himself on his composure, he could act rather unbecoming at times, disregarding formalities when he was surrounded by people he trusted.
“Because I didn’t knock?” Qui-Gon remarked and stepped next to his Master.
Dooku still didn’t turn to look at him, ever focused on the sight in front of him. His Master never lost focus, never showed any weakness that wasn’t calculated down to the briefest of movements. It reminded Qui-Gon a lot of Obi-Wan, his own so very dear Padawan. For all that Obi-Wan and Dooku had never spent any time together while his Padawan was growing up, he had turned out remarkably similar to his grandmaster. Perhaps that was just the nature of their relationships. Both storms in their own right, Qui-Gon was a wildfire, ever-growing hungry and consuming. By necessity, whoever accompanied him had to be more of a hurricane, possess the eye of the storm where there was silence and brutal calculations.
It was probably for the best that Qui-Gon had never taught Anakin. They would have ended disastrously. They were too much alike, too headstrong.
And too willing to fight with their Masters right up until they wanted to do nothing more than sit at their side, telling them every whispered word of the Force.
The distance that had grown between the two of them after Qui-Gon’s Knighting had hurt him in a manner he still couldn’t entirely grasp, but he was sure that he should have thrown a larger fit over the way Dooku had abandoned him then. Perhaps it had been for his own sake, but it had hurt regardless.
“You are deep in thought, Padawan,” Dooku said. Only now did his eyes travel to Qui-Gon, studying him intensely.
“I was only reminiscing about the past,” Qui-Gon admitted. “The days when I was your Padawan.”
“You still are my Padawan, Qui-Gon,” Dooku was quick to insist.
The possessiveness attaching itself to the statement was almost too obvious for his Master. Anger must be boiling beneath his skin. Qui-Gon wondered what had started it, what had set him off.
“Of course, Master,” Qui-Gon replied good-naturedly. “I was just thinking of the times you taught me how to speak correctly.”
Qui-Gon remembered those days well, had spent hours agonizing about the way his Master used to put one hand to his throat and one on his lower back to guide him to the proper posture, the way he should conduct himself while he spoke. For all that Qui-Gon was known as a brilliant duelist, his true strength had always been with words, compelling arguments crafted in the face of adversary, the will of the Force pressed onto another’s mind.
Qui-Gon had never known whether Dooku had chosen him for his aptitude with manipulations of the mind, but he had certainly been proud of Qui-Gon’s skills. He had invested hours into showing Qui-Gon how to be even subtler, how to trace alongside shadows already present within a mind, how to hide his intention with sweet honey dropping like ambrosia from his lips. Qui-Gon had learned how to ensnare the world for his Master and now he was once more following his Master’s lead, and that with pleasure.
The message of the Force was easier to trace at his Master’s side.
“I enjoyed those lessons,” Dooku confessed. “You sing so sweetly.”
It had never been sweet enough to drag his Master into his bed, though. Qui-Gon had certainly tried to seduce his Master with poems as gentle as the rebirth of spring, the heat of a star, the strength of a blade. He hadn’t been foolish enough to attempt anything more than that, to press his will onto his Master.
It had taken time of course, but Qui-Gon had found his way into his Master’s heart, and his bed. The only thing that had held him back had been the old Jedi sentiment, chains that had to be broken.
They were past that now.
“Something is changing,” Dooku said. “I don’t know what. I believe it has something to do with the enemy delegation we’re supposed to be meeting. I’d like for you to join the talk instead of the fighting.”
Qui-Gon couldn’t sense anything, walking through muddy waters, but if Dooku was so sure, he inclined to believe him.
“And where will you be?” Qui-Gon asked.
“Elsewhere.”
It was a cruel way of implying that he was going to meet with Sidious. Qui-Gon didn’t need to tear through his Master’s shields and make himself at home in his mind to know his thoughts. The thought of the other Sith Master awakened Qui-Gon’s usual more subtle bloodlust. Sidious was a hindrance, a dangerous one at that.
“Why haven’t you killed him yet? We don’t need him anymore. We can take the Republic on our own.”
“Don’t be a fool, Qui-Gon. There is much about the dark side we can still learn from Sidious. He has not yet run out of his use.”
That was something Qui-Gon wasn’t convinced of. “I fear that we give him too much time to discover our plot.”
Sidious had certainly not been pleased about Qui-Gon taking his place as his Master’s right hand., though even the Force, light or dark, could tell that it was right. Qui-Gon frankly speaking didn’t see the point of keeping the other Sith Lord around.
“All will be well, Qui-Gon. You mustn’t worry.”
His Master’s eyes flickered golden, the arrogance of the tyrannical king shining through.
“You will forgive me, but I believe that is impossible. I trust the Force, and the Force is ringing with a warning.”
“Must I forgive you?”
Qui-Gon smiled and then reached for his Master’s neck, tilted his head towards him the same way Dooku used to when he guided him during their lessons. He lingered for just a moment, let himself enjoy the warmth beneath his palm.
“You must,” Qui-Gon announced and captured his Master’s lips in a kiss. There was no hurry to it, no possessiveness, just gentle reassurance almost too compassionate for the shadows they had become, burning embers drenched in the darkness.
Qui-Gon was not a young, fumbling Knight anymore, he was well aware that his Master cared for him and wouldn’t abandon him. When he moved to deepen the kiss, taking Dooku away from the stars and close to his heart, his Master didn’t object. If anything, he indulged Qui-Gon, let him pull at the collar of his robes to suck marks onto his skin while he tangled his hands in Qui-Gon’s hair.
“Then I believe I will,” Dooku replied and tugged at Qui-Gon’s hair to pull him away again so he could kiss him again.
«I used to bring Qui-Gon here as a boy. He was fascinated with this tree, having been born here on Coruscant, a planet of steel and stone. He knew nothing like it».
