March became April. Dooku was only eating every other day now, and still sleeping a great deal, and still sleeping on the couch bed. He was tired all the time.
For the most part Dooku's chamber was professional, not prying into each other's personal lives. But one morning one of Dooku's fellow barristers remarked, "Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but you look and sound like hell. Maybe you should take some time off, or even consider retirement."
The way Dooku glared at him shut him up, and later that day in the courtroom Dooku had a fire and ferocity in him that he hadn't felt in a long time, even though the case was fairly minor. When Dooku drove home that day he was still agitated, but at least it had worked up an appetite.
It had been over two weeks since Dragos's death, and now a month and a half since the breakup with Sören. Dooku had put the box of Dragos's remains on the coffee table at first, but now having that constant reminder was bothering him. So he moved the box to the mantle above the fireplace. After he stepped back, surveying it, he finally looked at one of Sören's paintings hanging on the wall.
He took the painting down.
Then he proceeded to go around the house and take all of Sören's paintings down. Once they were down, Dooku debated what to do with them. Just throwing them away seemed disrespectful, especially when it was still fine work that continued to resonate with him. Dooku considered calling Leja to give the paintings to her to resell, which would net Sören some money as well, but wherever he was, Sören would know where that money came from and he felt like it would be pouring salt in the wound, and Dooku didn't know if he could truly bring himself to part with the pieces besides. He didn't want to look at them right now, of course, and have that reminder, but something about parting with it altogether just felt wrong. So he wrapped them up carefully and put them in his bedroom closet.
He hadn't been in the bedroom much, apart from using the bathroom adjacent to it to shower - even though the guest bathroom was closer, it was force of habit - and getting his clothes from the closet and changing there. He tried to make those trips as quick as possible, because just seeing the bed reminded him of Sören, and it hurt, like constantly ripping open an old wound.
But after putting the paintings in the closet, Dooku sat on the bed, and took a deep breath. It wasn't simply this bed, this bedroom. The entire house felt haunted. He hadn't been in the meditation room since the breakup. He also didn't spend as much time in the study as he once did, because the study was where he'd first seen that video of Sören fucking himself with a dildo, and he'd fucked Sören on the desk in his study three times over the course of their relationship. Even the kitchen and dining room felt haunted, memories of dinners they had together, the simple little nightly routine that Dooku didn't know he'd enjoyed so much until it was gone.
Dooku remembered when he'd bought this house. For a time he'd rented a house in London proper, but eventually he wanted something that was his. And he had been so proud of it, his home was his castle.
And now, in 2018, this house wasn't a home anymore. And didn't feel like his space anymore. He'd been crowded out by memories and pain.
Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose, changed into his pajamas, and headed back to the living room. He just crawled into the couch bed rather than make a pretense of being civilized sitting in the armchair, and after a few minutes of mindless BBC watching and continuing to sit with his thoughts, he took out his cell phone and dialed Leja's number.
After two rings she answered. "Hello," she said.
"Leja. I hate to only call you when I need a favor..."
Leja chuckled. "What is it this time, Dad."
"You have a lot of connections... I don't suppose you know an estate agent, do you?"
"An estate agent? I know a few I can recommend... why?"
Dooku took a deep breath. "I'm selling the house," he said.
_
To make the house sellable, Dooku knew something had to be done about the meditation room. On the one hand, it was beautiful art that could very well increase value of the house to the right buyer, and plenty of artsy types gravitated to Bermondsey because it was well-known as being a foodie haven, and artsy types were often foodies as well. On the other hand, it would potentially put off buyers who didn't have that in mind for their space at all. And there was the matter to be considered of the Force energy in the room, which seemed to be amplified by the mural Sören had done on the walls.
Dooku put another ad on Craigslist to get someone, or a team of someones, to paint the room. He had concerns again about letting strangers in his home, and he also had concerns about strangers being in a room that had felt so much Force activity, where it could potentially affect even non-Force-sensitives, but he decided the need to sell his home and be out of here outweighed whatever concerns he had.
Over the next few days, two men came to work on painting the room, which they had to do in stages and several coats to cover up the black paint and the vibrant colors over black that Sören had used. They didn't interact with Dooku outside of professional courtesies and being paid at the end of each day for their work, but Dooku nonetheless attempted to resemble a more high-functioning person than he'd been the last almost two months, including folding up the couch bed when not in use, to fold back out at night, including cooking for himself again instead of always getting takeaway or frozen dinners or just not eating.
When the meditation room was re-painted as a more neutral grey color, Dooku set about the task of selling most of his furniture. He had decided to move to a flat instead of renting a house somewhere, and this meant necessarily paring down his possessions, which he felt he ought to start doing anyway. Leja, Hans, Qui and Obi were interested in buying some of it, and this meant finally having them over as guests, with Leja and Hans coming over on one night, and Qui and Obi on another. It felt strange to have company over again, and when they left, a few hours later Dooku would cry again, not fully understanding why.
On May 1st, Dooku moved into his new flat on the West End of London. He was closer to his job in Holborn, and conveniently within walking distance of several stores and a park. Qui, Obi, Hans and Leja helped him transport his pared-down belongings, and a few new furniture items were being delivered that same day, including a new bed; Dooku had donated his old bed to charity.
To thank them for helping with the move, Dooku had the four of them stay for dinner. Discussion tactfully avoided the still-painful topics of Sören and Dragos, though Matt came up in conversation and it was confirmed that Matt and Dagnýr were getting married in September. Matt and Dagnýr had also been talking about adopting a child after their wedding. Dooku felt a pang of regret, thinking about Sören and what things could have been like - even though he felt like he was too old to raise a small child.
Hans and Leja left first, and Qui and Obi stayed for awhile - Obi presented Dooku with a bottle of Auchentoshan, and Dooku decided to have a shot, and Obi did as well. Qui declined since he was driving.
"Thank you again for the, uh, plant." Dooku still had the lithops that Qui had given him for his birthday, and now there was a spider plant in a colorful ceramic pot.
"You're welcome," Qui said. "I thought it would help to liven the place up a bit. Taking care of living things is an important way to commune with the Force."
"Yes." Dooku sighed, thinking of Dragos. And then thinking of Sören again, and the way Sören had loved Dragos... and the different little ways he and Sören had taken care of each other. He wondered what Sören would think of this flat. He wished he could get Sören out of his head, still haunted even as he'd left the very obvious reminders behind.
Qui picked up on it, across their Force bond. "You know," Qui said, "I know something else that could help you."
"I'm not in the mood for another one of your hippie lifestyle lectures about yoga and herbs and whatever it is that you do."
Qui shook his head. "That's not what I was about to say."
"All right."
Qui leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. "I think that part of your problem - actually, a lot of your problem - is that you've been too isolated, and it feeds a vicious cycle. It would be nice for you to meet people."
"I don't... do this go out and meet people thing that normal people do. I've never been like that, not even before..." Dooku's voice trailed off, not able to say Sören's name. "That's not about to change, even if you claim it's for my own good."
"Notice I simply said 'meet people', not 'go out and meet people'. I'm not talking about mingling at a bar or anything like that." Qui dropped his hands into his lap. "It happens that I know someone who, like yourself, is lonely, prefers the companionship of the same gender, and happens to be Force-sensitive. And since this was a concern of yours with Sören -"
Dooku winced at the utterance of his name; Obi used the Force to pour Dooku another shot of Auchentoshan and then used the Force to pass him the shot glass, with a quiet nod.
"- this gentleman is also closer to your own age. He's not quite as old as you, but there's less of an age gap than there was with you and." Qui just nodded, knowing better than to say the name again.
"You're telling me to go on a date." Dooku sounded unimpressed, and felt as unimpressed as he sounded.
"A date. As in one. See how things go. If it just results in making a friend, that's great. If it leads to more, well, that's also good, because you don't deserve to be lonely like this."
Dooku sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, downing the shot. "Does the other party know about this? Is this something that I have to set up myself?"
Qui smiled. "I made reservations for two at that Indian place you like, and I told them to charge everything to me. Friday night, May the 4th, at 7 PM. He'll be there."
Dooku made a disgruntled noise. "I don't really want to do this, but I know you won't get off my back until I do, so you can have your bloody way. But I would at least like a clue as to who I should look for once I arrive there."
Qui nodded. "He's American - African-American, to be exact. Bald, muscular build. He's ex-military, US Air Force if I recall correctly. His name is Mace Windu. He was in the service when one had to be closeted to be in the service and not face a dishonorable discharge, so in addition to being closer to your age, he's someone who isn't necessarily going to want to announce whatever to the world."
"What is he doing in the United Kingdom?"
"Running his own business. He got to travel a bit, and did some more traveling after his time in the service was up, and fell in love with the UK. He's still obviously a Yank, he's got an accent, but he appreciates proper tea."
Dooku snorted.
"So since you've agreed to this one date, I'll call him and let him know to expect you," Qui said.
Qui and Obi left not long afterwards, and Dooku sat for awhile just taking it all in, not believing he was doing this. It wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever done, but it certainly was one of the craziest.
chapter 26 | return to Northern Lights | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index