Can I have some feedback on this one, please? I'm sure it can be better, I'm just not sure how to make it so. p.s: This is going by the theory that Dooku was at his apprentice's funeral and we just never saw him there. Fire One : Palpatine So he deserved to die, then. A harsh thing to think, but it's true. I taught him. I made him into the vengeful, vicious, flawless demon- and he failed. Overconfidence is a dangerous thing. Overconfidence was what made him taunt his foe, instead of finishing him off without giving him a chance. Because the young one took that chance - and now my apprentice lies dead at the bottom of a pit. I glance at the man who ended my apprentice's life. Strong. Standing tall and brave for the others. But the vunrability- yes, the vunrability- in his eyes. I hear his thoughts as I see them in his eyes; "Master, why did you leave me?" He stares into the fire, perhaps willling himself not to cry. I stare into the fire too. The body of the one Kenobi mourns for, little more than ash now. I see the ash as the Jedi and their Light. I see the fire. Burning and blazing. The smoke, swirling, choking... And through the smoke and fire I see the boy. Oh yes. The fire will burn and burn till it destroys them. Overconfidence is a fatal flaw. Fatal indeed. There will be other apprentices. Where that one has failed, they will succeed. They will succeed. 2. Dooku I know nothing of the being who killed my Padawan. I heard his physical description from the Queen and her soldiers- he was dressed in black. Tatooed black and red, to show his love of the Dark. Holding a double-edged lightsabre that my former Padawan had little chance against, brilliant as he was. Padawan. Former Padawan. Oh, what does it matter? I raised him. I was there when he built his lightsabre, I was there when he faced his greatest fears, I was there when he became a Knight- and the best one in the Order, at that. He was unhappy at my studies of the Sith. He told me it was dangerous. But to think, Qui-Gon, if the Council hadn't deemed it dangerous, had accepted what they were up against, you might still be here now. I do not cry. I look through the fire, at Kenobi. He is crying. He has allowed himself to that now, for the crowd around the pyre has lessened. There is I, the Senator from Naboo,the Queen, the Gungan, scatterings of Jedi Knights here and there, himself, the young boy and Yoda. Yoda. I feel my anger, and force it away. Did he care so little for the apprentice of his apprentice, a man who was his friend? His eyes hold sorrow, yes, but no guilt. If indeed there is any, it is buried so deep I cannot see it. They bury everything deep, Yoda and his Council. Anything they find disruptive, disturbing, different, they refuse to acknowledge. Bury deep. No, it was not entirely the Sith's fault that my apprentice died. I shift my gaze back to Kenobi. I see the glittering tears. I feel pity, but not as much as perhaps I ought to have had. Kenobi was there, was he not? Perhaps he could have prevented the death of Qui-Gon. It is hard to lose a parent, young one, I think, but it is harder still to lose a child. The fire burns, I muse, and with it many other things. I fancy I see the Temple, burning in the flames. Oh Qui-Gon, you and me could have stopped this. The tears prick at my eyes, weakened by the fire. I stare past the burning form lying there to the other side of the room- Kenobi, the boy, the young queen and the Senator. Some look distaught. Others lonely. One, like me, is musing over things to come. And it is not just for my Padawan that I weep, but for the entire Jedi Order.