onlyeverdoubted | TLV Inbox

[Luke, of course, only assumes Bodhi would be uncomfortable there, so he agrees.]

Sure. I can meet you at the one on your level. When's good?

[Kriff.]

I don't need to do inventory any particular time. Whenever.

Then let's say, fifteen minutes? I'll be there.

[And he will, with no idea what he's doing but a pretty good lid on that.]

Bodhi turns up looking only a little like he's reporting for his own execution. He's done that, more or less, and it is marginally worse than this promises to be. He's there early enough to grab a chair and pretend to bury himself in a book that he's pretty clearly not actually reading.

Luke shows up, slowing to watch Bodhi for a moment. Pretending to read. Pretending this is okay. Luke takes a deep breath--it's something that he even agreed to this. Luke appreciates that.

He only hopes he can do some good.

"Hey," he says, approaching. He's calm, outwardly collected. He needs to project confidence, for this to have a chance of working.

Bodhi's only aiming for a modicum of dignity here. At Luke's voice he makes a show of marking his place on the page he was blankly staring at. He's resisted the urge to pull his hood up or curl into a ball in the chair. Normal person doing normal things here.

It's not rare for Bodhi to forget about greetings, but usually he starts in the middle of a friendly conversation that already started in his head. "So. Um, I don't know what... Is there something I should d-do, or..."

Luke waves a hand.

"Just sit," he says, and arranges himself neatly on the floor next to the chair. He sits cross-legged, like he's going to meditate. "I'm going to close my eyes--you can do whatever you feel comfortable. I don't know what you'll feel, but what I'm going to be trying to do is look, with the Force, at your... aura, for lack of a better word. Your life-energy. I'm going to start by reading that, and from there, try to figure out what was done to you. And how to reverse it."

He waits, watching Bodhi's face for a sign to continue or explain further.

Bodhi, predictably, sits still and fiddles with a hole in the cuff of his sweatshirt and tries to pretend he doesn't exist. The Force around him is a mess of walls and fluctuations, doubt and defensiveness closing him off, but it's nothing very unusual. Lots of people are guarded and shy. He tries to meditate himself, has some connection to the Force even if he doesn't have any sensitivity of his own.

At the center is something else. An emptiness, a lack, s blank space, but surrounded by jagged edges and pain. An open wound, barely beginning to scar over, where something punched through like a blaster.

At Bodhi's silence, Luke just nods, and closes his eyes. First, he reaches out for the Force, centering himself, tethering himself to here and now. And then he opens up that circle to include Bodhi, just being in his presence. He's not doing anything yet--just feeling.

And what he feels is alarming.

Like the thing that makes up the core of Bodhi, the thing every living being has at their center, has been punched like a rivet. Luke's been practicing the healing side of the Force, but on flesh and blood. This is like that, but so different it almost overwhelms him for a second. When he heals people, the pieces are there, the life is there. He just needs to coax it along, speed the process.

He doesn't know what did this. What could do this.

But he steels himself. Whatever did this, Bodhi is not going to get better as long as those frayed edges of his soul are left to fester. There's a dead zone in his center, and it needs to heal.

To Bodhi, there's nothing to see. Patience is a virtue of his. He shouldn't have any trouble. But sitting still and watching someone he doesn't especially trust do... Something? It's just not lending itself to either a long haul pilot's patience or philosophic mefditation. He fidgets, he shifts, he stares at the door and waits for it to be over. Finally, not sure it's a good move, he breaks his silence. "Um... So?"

Luke's eyes drift open, and he gazes at Bodhi with an expression that seems to look deep inside him. Which, in fact, he is.

"There's a part of you that's been torn," he says quietly, having to quell his nausea. Just the idea that someone with the ability to do this... could do this. He cannot think of anything more evil. "I can't replace it. But I can heal the part that is still hurt."

He can't bring himself to register much surprise. He's pretty curled up on the chair already after all the fidgeting, and it's easy to wrap his arms around his knees and rest his chin on top. "S-sounds right. I... I'm glad you think there... there's something to do..."

"I can't make it like it never happened," he says, with considerable regret. He hates that, with a passion that verges on dangerous. "But I can stop it from getting worse. And maybe allow you some relief, so you can begin to feel better. There's definitely something we can do."

He does feel confident there--he can't replace what's gone but just as one cannot regrow an organ, one can stop the surrounding tissue from rotting. He closes his eyes again, shuffling his shoulders to refocus himself. And it's easier to find this time, a dark void at Bodhi's center. Instead of simply observing, however, he begins to tease out the frayed edges. He's not sure that's what it really is, but the visualization works well enough, and it's similar enough to the work he's been doing with flesh wounds. It's a form of cleansing, forcing the clenched, raw places to open up, and pouring his own warmth and energy into that space. It should, he hopes, allow Bodhi to begin to reclaim that part of himself he can, without constantly feeling that oozing lack at his center.

Bodhi likes to blame everything that's wrong with him on Bor Gullet, so he tells himself this is absolutely a good thing that will fix... a significant number of failings. He doesn't quite believe it, but it's a deception he's used to. Why bother worrying about mundane traumas when you've got a psychic land-octopus to hold accountable? He'll have to forgive Luke that uncomfortable enthusiasm for the worst days of his life.

So he tries to sit back and be quiet. And he does feel... something. He doesn't have words for what it is. And while he means to cooperate, he flinches. The wound was left to fester with nothing he could do for it, but he did what he could to protect it, shied away from the broken places like you'd favor a bad leg. It's shock more than pain, and he doesn't mean to fight it, but he does anyway. Healing hurts.

Luke stops, pausing with an energy conduit connecting them. Patient. Just lingering, both of them encapsulated in what he's come to envision as a warm glow.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I know. It's uncomfortable. But you've been left like this a long time. It will take... some time to get used to feeling it, I think. But... ignoring the fact I'd lost a hand wasn't going to help me, in the long run. Think of what I'm doing like a bacta bandage. I'm packing it with energy, life, rather than a void. It might make you sensitive, for while."

He opens his eyes.

"But I think it will help."

He has even less doubt about that than when he started.

Kriff, he wants to run. His coping may not be effective, but it's familiar, and that's close enough. This one might be too much for the small solace of redundant inventory lists and long books and endless walks in the enclosure. It's fine. He has stronger comforts if he needs them. Bolt now and he's got the cat, the whiskey bottle, his safe spot under Hux's arm. He doesn't believe Luke would stop him.

Instead he takes a deep breath and looks up from the tight coil of himself on the chair. "It's fine. Go ahead." It'd be a brazen lie to someone who wasn't force sensitive, but it's more for his own sake than Luke's.

Luke nods, noting Bodhi's tension without remarking on it, and closes his eyes again. This time, he actually does what he says, trying to sooth the ache, while putting something in the place of the hole inside him. He's not sure what the result will be, or even that Bodhi will thank him for it--but he does know that he will be less raw. Less incomplete. In the long term, he has to believe that will be better than this. It's like draining an infected wound, or clearing away the dead flesh. At least it will heal.

He opens his eyes again, skin flushed, breath heavier, but expression satisfied.

"That's all I can do--for now," he says. "I'll check with you in a few days to see if... if you notice any change."

He wishes he could say he felt anything other than drained and miserable, but it's not that strange. "It... I mean... I've had broken bones, I don't, um, I don't expect it to just all be... fixed. Thanks." There's a Jedi tending to his little memory problem and all he can be is sulky and tired. Of course. Typical.

But I should be able to do it, Luke thinks, a little desperately. He's going to have nightmares now, thinking about what could possibly have done this to the man. But he just nods.

"Then to continue the bone thing, I think we can at least keep it from grinding. But I want you to tell me anything that changes, or you feel, that even might be related."

"I, um, I'll try." He has no idea what he'd be looking out for, and he knows himself well enough to be sure he wouldn't bother Luke without good reason. "It's... I've... This happened a few days before I g-got here. So. It's clearly not an emergency."

Luke props his knees up, curling his arms around them as he watches Bodhi. "No," he says, "maybe not. But it is serious. And I don't want you living with the results any longer than you have to."

Bit too late for that. "I really don't expect to come out normal the other side, you know? Just, maybe, um, a little more functional." He's really, honestly trying to be pleasant and polite right now. He'd just a bit of a poor judge of what constitutes either.

Luke smiles thinly.

"It's the expecting to come out normal I'd worry about," he says. "I remember, when I first got here. Someone sat me down and said, basically, when are you gonna deal with all this trauma you've been through?" Luke shrugs. "I said, 'what trauma?' Because I truly hadn't thought to question it--it was just my life. But we all have things that we live through--if we're lucky--that we have to deal with. And that will leave us changed. I just think you and I... have lived lives without a lot of space to ask those questions."

Pleasant and polite and grateful and not irritated. He keeps his composure with some help from being worn out. Keeps the generally irksome sensations from bubbling up with much energy. "Not dealing with it all the time is sort of the goal, here."

"Maybe," Luke shrugs. He flexes the fingers of his right hand. "I could've not dealt with having no hand, but then... I wouldn't have had a hand."

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