it's okay to be afraid

“What? You're having a vision right now?” Dooku’s hands flow over Sifo-Dyas like a medic searching for a wound, fingers prodding first at his face and then at his neck. It is borne with patience and fondness. “Not yet.” “Ten to fifteen minutes,” I say. Dooku stops, his thumbs hovering above the top line where the clavicles meet the sternum. “No one has to carry me now,” Sifo-Dyas says, smiling. His eyes are already closed but I know it's not a smile that would reach his eyes.