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2023-05-14
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Mind Trick

Summary:

Vokara Che discovers a secret Obi-Wan Kenobi has been keeping.
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“He’s alive,” Vokara says. “And he’s also the most reckless idiot I’ve ever met.”

“More than usual, your ire would suggest,” Yoda says. “Done to earn it, what has Master Kenobi?”

Notes:

This fic is focused on Obi-Wan, though he only shows up for a few moments. Hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Vokara Che is a master of the healing arts.

At a young age, she showed a marked compassion beyond that of her fellow Jedi initiates.

She also, around that age, showed a high degree of being able to boss, harangue, and generally shame others into seeking medical care.

But she has never, in all her years, been as livid as she is now.

She finishes her examination of her unconscious patient, releases the sickness of boiling rage into the Force, turns the care of her patient over to one of the Padawan healers, then turns on her heel.

The comm call she makes along the way to her destination is short and to the point. She hangs up before she gets a response.

Vokara knows the image she presents at the moment is intimidating because of the way everyone in her path quickly sweeps to either side of the wide hallways.

“Master Che!” stutters out the Padawan handling the Council chambers reception desk. “Master, you can’t go in. They’re in session.”

She gives the Padawan a reassuring nod, then continues forward, throwing forward the doors to the chambers with the Force to confront the circle of Masters within.

“Peace, Padawan Kloti,” Mace says. The Padawan settles back in their seat, and Vokara lets the doors swing shut behind her. “Master Che. You commed you had an urgent matter for the Council’s attention?”

“Unorthodox, this is,” Yoda says.

“You could have made an appointment,” Ki-Adi-Mundi says, sounding rather petulant. Vokara turns her glare on him, inordinately pleased when he quails.

“This could not wait. You’ll notice that you’re short a Council Master right now, I take it?”

“Yes, we heard Master Kenobi was wounded on Rathni,” Depa Billaba says, her hologram flickering briefly. Vokara doesn’t think she’s projecting the sudden fear in the other woman’s voice when Depa adds, “What’s happened?”

“He’s alive,” Vokara says. “And he’s also the most reckless idiot I’ve ever met.”

“More than usual, your ire would suggest,” Yoda says. “Done to earn it, what has Master Kenobi?”

“He’s been using mind tricks on himself,” Vokara hisses.

“Wait,” Kit Fisto says. “What does that mean?”

“I was trying to guide him into a healing trance when I encountered a thick layer of suggestions,” she tells Kit. “Dangerous suggestions. And every single one of them bore Master Kenobi’s Force signature. He did them to himself.”

“Dangerous, how?” Mace says. He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers together.

“Dangerous to himself. Tricks to keep himself awake beyond the point of exhaustion. Tricks to keep himself working on reports. Tricks to ignore pain and fatigue and hunger. Tricks that show no regard for the fact that he is a living person, not a blasterproof shield or a Force construct or a…a…a…piece of equipment!”

Her words echo in the chamber, bouncing off the walls and holograms and the Masters who are present, whose expressions range from stunned to contemplative.

Vokara lets her gaze drift to the skyline, to the endless streams of traffic filled with people who probably don’t even think about how the Jedi and the clones are dying on far-flung worlds. The people out there probably don’t think about the sacrifices they’re making, like the health and peace of mind of one ginger-haired Master ensconced in her Halls of Healing for the umpteenth time during this forsaken war they’ve all been forced into.

“Unsettling, this news is. Unaware, we were, of such drastic actions. That mind tricks could even be turned inward, a new ability.”

“How is Master Kenobi’s mental state?” Kit asks.

“Unsteady,” Vokara clips out, then reminds herself that each and every Master in this room does have Obi-Wan’s best interests at heart. Most of the time. When they’re not being drowned in impossible mission requests that only the youngest Council member can fulfill. “He was able to settle into a healing trance with my assistance. But unraveling the mind tricks is more than I was willing to do with his physical state.”

And then, she hesitates.

“Master Che,” Mace calls out, noting the pause. “Is there something else?”

She takes in a breath, looks at Coruscant laid out beyond her, and lets it out.

“The suggestions…,” she starts, then stops again. This is personal. Obi-Wan likely won’t forgive her for this.

‘But,’ she rationalizes, ‘he can only not forgive you if he’s alive.’

“The suggestions were crafted on bases built in self-doubt, without any thought for personal regard,” she says. Almost unwillingly, she starts reciting, “‘Stay awake so you can keep them alive. Your life is worth nothing more than theirs. You don’t need the food. You’re practically snatching it away from people who have nothing. You’re not in pain. Anakin lost his hand. Cody took shrapnel to the face and kept fighting. Ahsoka bounces back faster than you. You’re not hurt. Keep going.’”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Master Yoda’s ears droop.

“Thought broken of these thoughts, Master Kenobi was.”

“Obviously not, Grandmaster,” Vokara says, letting herself look at him and Mace in front of her. She does not look at Obi-Wan’s empty chair. “I also get the feeling he’s employed these tricks for longer than just the War. And every time he’s come to my Halls, I’ve missed it.”

“At fault, you are not.”

“I’ve failed my patient, Master Yoda. I do not see how that is not my fault.”

“You are not responsible for Obi-Wan’s actions,” Mace says, collapsing back into his chair. “Nor are we. But you are correct that we should not have missed this. To use the Force in such a way is…”

“Concerning,” Depa interrupts. “His empathy and compassion have…mutated.”

“We ask too much of him,” Saesee Tiin says. “As this War asks too much of us all.”

“What do we do?” Vokara asks. “How do we convince him that mind tricking himself to do more is a bad idea when this War demands that he do it every day?”

“An answer to this query, we do not have,” Yoda says. “But come up with one we must, if hope to teach Obi-Wan to value himself more, we do.”

Vokara thinks back to the man in her Halls, a tiny, battered figure adrift on a sea of white linen.

“For his sake and ours, Master Yoda, I hope we come up with something quick. We’ll all break if this goes on much longer.”

Around her, the circle of Masters nods. They all know it. And yet they can’t seem to slip the noose tightening around their necks with every day, every campaign, every death, every move away from who they are into what they are being driven to be.

Vokara takes a breath, and tries to release her anxiety and fear to the Force. It goes like sludge, lingering around her.

And she wonders if maybe, just maybe, Obi-Wan Kenobi has the right idea. Because right now, she’d like nothing more than to mind trick herself into believing everything will be okay.

But she’s a healer, and she’s too pragmatic for anything but reality.

“I’ve a patient to attend to. Thank you, Masters.”

“May the Force be with you,” Mace says.

“May it be with us all,” Vokara says, and heads back to the Halls of Healing to do what she’s always done: everything she can.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are very much loved if you'd like to leave one!