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“...Yan…” a whimper, stifled sobs. “Yan...”
“I’m here, everything’s fine,” Dooku whispered, hugging his delirious friend more tightly and covering hiwith his own Power. “Come on, Sai, pull yourself together.
The sticky veil of the nightmarish vision lifted a little. The Magister took advantage of his brief moment of enlightenment to rein in his erratic abilities.
No emotions. Only peace...
“Yan… I’m so sorry…”
“Hush, concentrate.” Dooku patted Sifo-Dyas on the back with surprising tenderness. The Seer was shaking violently from the horror he had experienced, the Force swirling around him either darkened dangerously or flared with bright light. “Come on, it’s okay, breathe properly.”
Sifo nodded twitchy, forcing himself to take deep, steady breaths and not stumble over his choking tears. The worst thing about his visions was not what they could tell, but what they brought with them.
Fear, despair, almost physical pain and an acute, all-consuming feeling of loneliness are not the best set for an adherent of the Light side.
A warm hand gently touched the back of the head, distracting and helping to calm the panic tearing from within. Sifo-Dyas froze, closing his eyes and habitually nestling against his friend's chest. His heart pounding in his ears began to slow down a little. Exhausted by yet another bout of uncontrollable foresight, the Jedi quietly burst into tears.
His own Power still burned his insides, twisting in a tight spiral. It was terrible to imagine how it was hard for Yan, who took the brunt of the deranged from the horror of the Forceuser on himself.
“Sorry...”
“Starting again…?” Dooku pulled the spare blanket closer, wrapping the unresisting Master in it. Togo was chilled. “Cold?” a barely perceptible nod. “Now, have a little patience.”
The whole room was enveloped in an aura of sharp but warm Light, burning out the remnants of disturbances. Yan touched the cracked hoop around his friend's neck with his fingertips.
“The shields burned out again.”
Sifo obviously wanted to apologize once again, but under a stern look obediently fell silent, averting his eyes in embarrassment. He thought he could get used to it and stop reacting so brightly.
The clasp clicked, and the artifact, which had become useless, flew onto the bedside table. Sifo-Dyas involuntarily closed his eyes, experiencing a moment of discomfort, if only psychological - he had no other defense against his own abilities.
Similar... Attacks always led to the same result - exhaustion so severe that the Jedi could not even move, and quite the classic symptoms of a nervous breakdown. He wanted to sleep, but the horror waiting in oblivion did not allow him to even close his eyes for a long time.
Concerned, Dooku carefully wiped the wet trails of tears from his friend's face. Medicines might help a little, but they only numb the symptoms. Sighing, the Jedi stood up to fetch the already familiar set of sedatives, sleeping pills, and vitamin mixtures.
“Don’t leave!” Thin fingers clutched at his sleeve. The sharp knuckles were white with exertion, though there was little to no strength in them.
"I'm not going anywhere," Yang replied patiently, squeezing Sifo's hand. “Calm down, you can feel me in the Force. I will be near.”
The master stubbornly shook his head, hiding his half-mad look behind his hair. Sighing, Dooku sat back on the bed, stroking and kneading his friend's cramped wrist. This time, apparently, it was worse than usual.
"Death?” Whip, nod. “Future?”
“Present,” Sifo breathed out, barely audible, clinging to his friend's palm as if it were the last hope for salvation. Yan darkened.
“Who?”
Unlike most, he knew what Sifo-Dyas's visions were worth - they were even beyond the usual Future vision. Unimaginably clear pictures, complete immersion - thousands of options that could have happened, or could have remained dead probabilities.
“Fulier. Melida-Daan.”
Dooku exhaled, relaxing.
“The Council postponed the resolution of the conflict for a year, at the last moment something did not like the specialists in information security.”
There was a low, relieved sob in response. The grip on the Jedi's sleeve loosened a little and finally disappeared.
As soon as the drugs took effect, Sifo's condition finally stabilized. He took a deep breath, using a simple meditation to remove the remnants of indignation in the Force.
“You're doing well,” Dooku whispered into his sweat-drenched temple and tightened his arms around his friend, who was reclining on his lap. Sifo was still shaking.
After a while, Sifo-Dyas fidgeted awkwardly, trying to get up. Master of Makashi style sighed - he developed an excellent instinct for the eternal overshoots of his friend, almost as good as a combat one. Here, now again throw something out of hand...
“Yan…” the seer began softly and guiltily at the same time. The named sighed even harder - being completely deprived of the gift of the Consul, he already knew from one tone that he did not want to hear the continuation. “It's all right, go to bed. You need rest...” a thin, almost translucent palm gently touched the Jedi's cheek.
“I will meditate. Sleep.”
“Yan...”
“And you'll stay in bed tomorrow.”
“But...”
“Sleep.”
No, not that Dooku was such a tyrant that he would confuse a mere concern with a vicious attack. But both of them also saw the other side - in particular, reflected in the Force. Sifo had already habitually walked the edge of the Fall, pushing himself to his physical limits and holding on to sheer stubbornness. The only thing that kept the psyche of the weakened master in a fragile balance was the others Light surrounding him in a dense cocoon.
And now this miracle is now - again! - Tried to play self-sacrifice. With such introductory... Dooku had a durasteel patience. And no less strong nerves.
"Trust me, okay?" He softened a little, trying to ease the seer's anxiety. That's something a Jedi has never been good at... “You need to recover, it's... It was close.”
Sorry, what? Malicious manipulation? In war, all means are good! It is unlikely that Yan could admit this even to himself, but the poor health of his friend frightened him much more than his own fatigue or injury.
“Yan…?” This intonation was already equated with surrender, so Dooku could sigh calmly.
“Mm?”
“You saved me again.” A sad smile appeared on Sifo's face. Pressing his cheek against his friend's chest, he added softly, "Thank you."
“I'll do it as many times as necessary. You know it,” Yan straightened the thick blanket he had wrapped the master in like a cocoon, and leaned down to gently kiss his forehead. “Now go to sleep.”
In the morning, he was convinced of his not the best proposals - Sifo-Dyas almost did not hold on his legs, he simply did not have enough strength. Embarrassedly averting his gaze, he obediently grabbed his friend by the shoulders, raised in his arms. Not for the first time, but still not the best experience.
"Don't grumble," Dooku reproached with a mild sneer, placing Sifo on the floor at the doorstep of the freshener and making sure he remained standing. "And don't beat yourself up."
“Leave me at least some personal space in my thoughts!” the seer was indignant more jokingly than seriously.
“I know you too well.”
“It's scary sometimes.”
“Thank you.” The impudent smirk only widened.
While joking, they tried to distract each other from a sleepless night and some hopelessness. Sifo often thought about how Yan had the patience to mess around with him. Yan always noticed this and stopped such thoughts in the bud.
“Be careful, don’t fall,” Dooku held his dangerously reeling friend by the waist, carefully peering into the pale face. “Does it get dark in the eyes?”
“A little...”
Without commenting on this in any way, Yan brought the master to a high stool. For some reason, household appliances that could simplify the life of an ordinary seriously ill person were not found in his apartment. Maybe it was stupid, but both preferred to ignore the obvious.
The Jedi squatted beside him, monitoring the change in his friend's condition. After a short rest, the deathly pallor receded a little - better than it could have been. There were days when Sifo-Dyas couldn't even sit for long, and Force blockers became the only way out.
“Come on, get it together. Use healing.”
It took ten minutes for Sifo to more or less come to his senses. He still didn't look well, but he wasn't on the verge of fainting anymore.
"Thanks," he muttered softly, forcing his body to obey.
“Are you okay?”
“I am fine.” It seemed that even the seer, impenetrable in this regard, was ashamed of his outright lie. “That is, it is not critical.”
Dooku chuckled skeptically, but disappeared behind the screen. Despite the eternal "fine", the troublesome master knew when to call for help. If he says he can do it, then he will. If it gets worse, he will call without any hesitation.
Give or take fifteen minutes - that's how long it took Yan to completely clean himself up, take a shower and change into what was called combat attire. The Jedi himself modestly referred to the heavy cloth armor-like garments as "everyday". As he was about to drape his upper robe over his shoulders, he heard a soft:
“Yan?”
The voice sounded scared. Dooku was at his side in a matter of moments, grabbing the stumbled Sifo. He was shaking again, and his body was icy.
“Again... Vision. And so strong too... I'm sorry, I'm really... I didn't think it would so often...” the Master muttered, seemingly half-delirious.
“Hush, hush, everything is fine,” Yan instantly softened, recognizing this state, and picked up his friend in his arms. Now he needed all the support he could give. “Don't think about what you see, focus on my voice. Sai, can you hear me?” convulsive nod. “Good, you're doing good... Don't get distracted, remember you're with me now. Not there.”
This technique worked better than meditation and attempts to reject the worldly - Sifo-Dyas's visions were too real. He felt what the person felt about whom the Great wanted to tell. If that was harmed - pain, if driven like an animal - horror. The Jedi hasn't seen anything good lately.
Focusing on the real world helped to ease the effects a bit. It had taken Sifo a long time to learn not to go completely into the Visions, but he still needed an anchor, one or more, to do so. Tactile sensations and hearing were the most effective.
Dooku was worried that the situation had deteriorated markedly over the past six months. If before a full charge of an artifact that reduced the brightness of visions was enough for several days, now it often simply broke down, unable to withstand pressure. Sifo-Dyas lost almost half the weight and was forced to stop training. There was no mention of missions at all.
“Sorry…” the seer breathed softly, seemingly unable to do anything else.
“Sai, stop it,” Yan was automatically indignant at the top of his head, trying to calm the nerves stretched to the limit.
He helped the magister undress and climb into the wooden tub of hot water, another trick to combat the effects of exhaustion. Gradually warming up, Sifo splashed water on his face a couple of times, trying to take control of the Force.
"It was... a dead possibility," he said softly, not knowing why.
“Mm?”
“My death,” the master added laconically. “Very bright, but absolutely boring.”
“Boring? Is it really that word?” Dooku snorted, combing through the heavy dark strands. Measured touches to the soft hair of a friend always calmed him. Even terrible news, said in a nonchalant tone, did not frighten so much.
"That," Sifo chuckled. “If you hadn’t barged in on me then, I would have died of exhaustion.”
"And you expect me to shrug my shoulders and calm down?"
“I hope so, but everything is the Will of the Force.”
“You’re even dare kidding,” Yan lightly pulled his friend by the strand of hair, in response to receiving insincere apologies and assurances that this would not happen again. If wouldn’t laugh so openly - maybe it would even turn out believable.
Convinced that Sifo-Dyas felt better and even cheered up, Dooku exhaled and forced himself to smile back. Seeing his friend rejoice in even a short period of calm hurt him.
“Can you stand up…?” the Jedi asked softly, telekinesis pulling a large mohair towel towards him.
Sifo nodded uncertainly and, leaning heavily on the edge of the tub, tried to get up. His hands almost immediately gave way, clearly showing - no, he can't.
Habitually supporting the embarrassed master's armpit, Yang wrapped him in a towel and lifted him up in his arms, intending to carry him back to the room. And it was worth repairing as soon as possible, or better, improving the artifact.
Sifo won't last long like this.
Resting his head wearily on his warm shoulder, Sifo-Dyas fell silent, frustrated and embarrassed at how much trouble, as he called it, he had managed to cause in one morning. At least he could get dressed today on his own - that was already pleasing, because it could have been even worse... Dooku almost forcibly wrapped him in a warm woolen jacket, judging by the size, belonging to Master of Makashi style himself.
“Hypothermia is something you're really don't need.” he grumbled softly, carefully rolling up the too-long sleeves. His friend's weakness frankly frightened him. In the end, Yan fastened the previous prototype of a protective hoop around his neck, more bulky and less effective, and put a book on the nightstand next to the bed. “Have a rest. And while I'll cook something."
In fact, right now he was afraid to leave the seer unattended even in the next room, but Dooku forced himself to leave with an effort of will. What he definitely did not intend to do was lock Sifo in a comfortable cage, explaining such a decision as concern. Even if he really wanted to hide him from the whole world, removing everything that could provoke new visions.
No. No way. Such a life is not something that will not be joyful, it cannot even be called life.
A sleepy Komari Vosa scuttled past in the direction of the freshener. Having bowed and greeted her teacher on a clean machine, the girl looked at his tired face with a knowing look.
“Master Sifo is worse again..?”
Rubbing his aching temple in an unconscious gesture, Dooku nodded grimly. He only needed an hour to recover, maximum two, it was enough to give the body the necessary resources, but if he had not extinguished the flash of Sifo's Force, it would have been very bad.
“I'll sit with him, okay?” Komari suggested, correctly identifying the cause of the master's concern. After all, this anxiety was common to them.
They had been living like this, the three of them, for three years, practically since Vosa became a Padawan. Before, the situation was much better, Sifo-Dyas often helped her with training, and the girl perceived him more as a second teacher than as an outside Jedi Master. Of course, she was also worried.
“Only if he doesn’t mind,” Yan nodded gratefully. Smiling, Komari nodded, bowed hastily, and ran into the freshener.
As embarrassed as he was to admit it, Dooku felt calmer. He would never have dragged a child into such difficult problems, but the Jedi - he still reproached himself for it - noticed what was happening to Sifo too late. He recently accepted Vosa as a student, when once he heard only silence at a knock on his friend's door.
Then, for some reason, paranoia leaped up in master of Makashi, he knocked again, and again, and then completely, spitting on decency, blown away the heavy metal door with a Force hit. After that, the Jedi thanked the Great One for a long time for pushing him to the right decision, sitting in the Infirmary next to Sifo's bed and tightly squeezing the icy palm.
Dooku found him unconscious, curled up in a shivering ball on the bed and pale as a sheet. Critical exhaustion and dehydration, a nervous breakdown, and hypothermia against this background - just a few hours, and no one could help.
Sifo-Dyas did not return to his apartment again - Yan immediately took his friend to him, spitting on surprised looks and whispers. In these days - and in all the days to come, let's be honest - he did not care deeply about the opinion of the rank and file Forceusers, the Council and Yoda in particular. The Temple Mind Healers were clearly working in a slipshod manner, if they were working at all - they didn't even seem to see the point in trying - and at first Sifo had been flinching at the loud noises, Dooku had difficulty coaxing him to eat, and was almost permanently by his side.
Helped.
It took several weeks before Yan could even call the situation "stable". And he was infinitely grateful to little Vosa, who, to his surprise, tried to help in any way she could. It was she who realized that concentration on the sounds or sensations of the real world reduces the intensity of the same sensations in the Vision. When Dooku finished the artifact-blocker, which also dulled the "immersion effect", uncontrolled foresight for a long time did not bother Sifo at all. He occasionally went on relatively peaceful missions with Komari, carefully collecting all the information he received from the Force and discussing it with a friend.
The alignment was frankly not happy.
According to the conclusions that they made, based on different variations of the present and the future, "Darkness closes the eye" should rather be interpreted as "the future of the universe is buried in Darkness." The Jedi were waiting for the return of the Sith, the new Empire and many, many deaths. With only two of them with so many problems it was impossible to cope, so evidence was needed. Sifo even began to develop a rough plan, which was intended to at least move the Temple back from the brink, but...
Damn council meeting six months ago. Yan realized later that he should not have let Sifo go alone - and he could, if not prevent what happened, then at least calm him down in time ... He wished that Sith's Windu to torn apart by a Nundu. He for some reason had to cling to Sifo, and even press with the Force...
Since then, they had no time for any plans and reflections, Dooku was afraid to leave his friend, but he could not help in any way. After the ill-fated meeting, having figured out the situation, he yelled at Mace, almost challenged him to a duel and sent Yoda, who stood up for the Korun, to such distances that even Siths would not go. But the demand to remove him from missions in the field was carried out extremely willingly - the "smartest" members of the Council considered this a punishment.
Spreading his hand absently in the air, Yan telekinesis lowered the fire on the stove behind him and returned to slicing vegetables. Previously, the Jedi spent most of his time on missions and preferred store-bought food, but with the advent of a still-growing Padawan and a weakened Sifo, his ossified habits had to change. Not that he really cooked well, but at first there was no one else. Then Sifo-Dyas intercepted this difficult duty, grumbling that since he was not allowed anywhere anyway, at least he could be entrusted with household chores. Now Dooku did not let his friend waste his strength once again.
Returning to the room, he found Sifo sleeping in an armchair and carefully covered with a blanket. Vosa was sitting beside him on the floor, her head resting on her hands folded in his lap. One of the Magister's hands rested on her head. The Padawan looked at her master with understandable anguish.
“Fell asleep?” Yan quietly clarified the obvious, squatting down.
Komari silently nodded and slipped out from under Sifo's arm, trying not to disturb him. Thin prominences of her Light continued to softly touch the still strong, but dim and tormented-looking sun of the seer's Power.
'Why did you only flaunted, saying that doesn't want to sleep?..' thought Dooku, carefully grabbing his friend under his knees and shoulders. He did not dare to use telekinesis, afraid to wake Saifo, who was sensitive to the slightest fluctuations in the surrounding energy. Vosa silently pushed the covers off the made bed.
“Yan…?” the Master muttered in surprise, seemingly only half awake as Dooku settled him into bed. A warm hand rested on his forehead, brushing strands of hair from his face.
"Sleep some more," came the quiet reply. He was carefully covered with a blanket. “You're exhausted.”
“What…?” Sifo-Dyas asked absently, blinking sleepily a couple of times. His golden eyes brightened a little. “No, no, it’s okay, I just dozed off…”
"Sleep," Yang repeated patiently. “Take your time and do not force yourself if you have no strength. We discussed this, right?”
“But...”
“Sleep. The night was difficult.”
“Not only for me,” the seer was indignant, contrary to his words, tiredly closing his eyes. He really didn't feel as good as he tried to show.
"Master Sifo, you really should rest," Vosa urged her master seriously, glancing at them both with concern.
For her, what was happening was as unpleasant and scary as a serious illness of a parent would be for any child. The girl remembered only too well how the master trained with her, praised her for the smallest progress, and sat by her side for a long time, helping with meditations. How he put everything and everyone in their places on peacekeeping missions and scolded Master Dooku for risky actions. And how he worried, letting them go on potentially dangerous tasks, listing all kinds of pitfalls that he saw. Master Sifo then was strong, amazing and... Healthy. And her Teacher was not constantly tired, getting a night's sleep only in small snatches.
Komari... was really scared.
Sifo-Dyas shifted his bleary gaze on her face, having lost all desire to argue. Yes, and opportunities - too, he did not like to disturb almost his student and did not want to.
“I’m sorry… I scared you, didn’t I?” Sifo reached out to stroke the Padawan's head.
“You screamed at night. And the Force raged,” Vosa said accusingly. As if she didn't notice! And don't worry about it!
“If you don’t listen to me, listen to her,” Dooku, having assessed the situation, hastily changed tactics, lightly pressing his friend’s conscience.
“When you two work together, I don’t stand a chance,” he chuckled weakly, obediently relaxing and leaning back against the pillow.
Sifo hadn't expected to fall asleep instantly, despite the intense stares and the remnants of resistance from his pride. The exhausted organism required rest almost constantly, and two Visions in a row did not add strength to it at all. At the edge of his fading consciousness, the thought that Melida-Daan was important in some way was persistently itching.
Just what?..