Through Bitter Chains

Through Bitter Chains.

Disclaimer: All characters in this fic are the property of George Lucas and/or those who work for Lucasfilm ltd. I am not making any money from this, and it is intended purely for the enjoyment of all those in a galaxy far far away XD.

Special thanks to the nice people at the Gen_Grievous community for this fic bunny, I enjoy a challenge, I only hope I live up to expectations with this one *eek!*

Chapter 1:
( These events take place during, and immediately after the event’s covered in “the eyes of revolution” )

In dreams Grievous remembered small pieces of his mortal life. Happy days spent with his family, victorious moments on the battle field. But most of all, he remembered what it was to feel, emotionally and physically. Hours spent in his customized bacta chamber, equipped to re-fill his pressurised gut sac, with all the nutrients his injured organs needed to stay 'alive', indefinitely if need be, he had plenty of time to contemplate such memories.

And as the months passed, as Grievous progressed in his training of the Jedi Arts, such memories became harder to call to mind. Every feeling he could once remember so clearly, soon faded into a shadow of it's former 'self', eclipsed only by one thing, unrelenting anger.

*******

High above the celestial form of Geonosis, Grievous now resided in the separatist cruiser, that was soon to become his flagship. His journey was now complete, and he could finally get the revenge that was due to him. He could redeem himself.

Yet something played on his mind.

As if by some ironic force, the object of his troubles briskly and arrogantly entered the room. A confident, smug smirk upon his face, an air of superiority about him. Grievous found it frustrating in more ways than one, that he owed much of what he had now, and all of what he would have, to the over confident, silver haired, idealist, that stood before him.
For the sake of those material facts alone, many would have expected that commanded a certain amount of respect, but not Grievous. It all boiled down to one small detail, if it were not for this man, he would have never had the means to gain revenge against the Jedi. For this, he could learn to tolerate his so called ‘master.’

Count Dooku, formerly of the Jedi order himself, had overseen every detail of Grievous’ transformation, and, of course, his training. Grievous could see the logic in some aspects of this. What better way for the Jedi to fall, than at the hands of someone who could effectively, and efficiently beat them at their own game?

As if the Platinum haired Count had read his thoughts, he held out a tarnished silver lightsaber hilt.

“ The Jedi shall fall to their own weapon” He said clearly as he studied the cyborg before him.

In many ways Dooku found he actually pitied Grievous, the poor fool had played right into his hands, just as his master, Lord Sidious had said he would. And this was the result? He would never be as good a swordsman as any of the Jedi, but he would endure.
If there was one thing Dooku despised most about Grievous, it was his lack of finesse when it came to sabre fighting forms. They may be effective in defeating Jedi, he had shown as much on Geonosis, but such a crude technique, and FOUR sabres? The idea made Dooku want to cringe inwardly. Unthinkable.
Hence he spoke the next sentence, laced with sarcasm,
"Nobody has ever received a lightsaber as a 'gift', especially not a DROID"
A cruel smirk played across the Count's lips.

Grievous, who had already taken the weapon, did not fail to pick up on the derogative comment. His insatiable anger did not fail to register with the rest of his body either, it was the very idea that he would not get his revenge if he killed the Count, that stopped him from reacting in Violence.
And Dooku, knowing this, was ever so sadistic to push it that bit further.
"A sign of gratitude might not be completely out of place at the moment"
He then proceeded to take his leave, under the searingly angry gaze of the General.

Returning to his own quarters aboard the vast ship, Dooku reflected on the days events.
It had been a very productive one indeed, talks with his master about their next move had gone well, and his only qualm about being requested to stay on Geonosis once his deeds here were complete, was that he could not spare the time to return to his home world of Serenno. But needs must, the separatist cause was more important right now. He still needed more systems to join his fledgling confederacy. Once that was taken care of, they need not worry about the Republic. They now had Grievous and his strategic mind, he would no doubt be a useful tool in trying to 'convince' Republic minded worlds to yield to the Separatists.
Grievous....Dooku wrinkled up his nose in some form of sneer. Ever his 'experiment' played on his mind. Wherever his mind wandered of late, it would always come back to one thing, Grievous.
The sound of his nearby comm bleeping, almost startled Dooku. Reaching across, he activated the device. A holographic projection of a very nervous looking Nemoidian flickered to life before him.

"Yes?" The count enquired sharply.

"Sir, it's...it's the General sir, he's..."

"Spit it out!" Dooku interrupted rather impatiently, irked that yet again the subject matter was Grievous.

"He's gone insane, torn apart most of his guards, some of the crew....sir...no one else dare enter the room, what should we do?!"

The nemoidian was clearly all of a flutter, panicking when the situation went wrong, typical of his species.

" Captain, you are to return to your post, I, shall deal with this matter."
And with that the Count cut the transmission.