Ben blinked. The Jedi Code had been shoved down his throat as sacrosanct for as long as he'd been at Luke's. To have people know it and just flat out disagree with it was always shocking to him, and confusing. If his mother and most of her friends here, it seemed, disagreed with the dogma, then why had he been sent to go learn it? It seemed counterintuitive at best, given that straining to follow the rules about fear had made him reluctant to ever reach out for help when his episodes of derealization were getting worse or when the Dark Side got a stronger hold on him. If he hadn't been told he wasn't allowed to feel fear, if he'd been able to say something, they wouldn't be here now in a medbay looking at scans of Ben's malnourished and dying body.
He wondered if there would be enough of him left mentally for her to catch, but directed his attention to the Doctor, looking ahead as she requested, then watching her every moment with mounting anxiety. He wanted to be hopeful, wanted to believe she would hand him a way to never slip out of his own mind and watch the world from afar again. Ben also knew that there were limits to what medicine could do even under ideal circumstances. As one First Order doctor had told Ben once, medicine was not magic. Now he was torn between his inner optimist and years of bitter experiences with false hope, although back then, he hadn't known there was a word for what was going on with him.
"You did? And you do?" Wait, what? Years of doing everything short of dying in order to stay sane, and this could have been fixed with a brain scan and a competent doctor? For a moment a pang went through him. What would it have been like had this appointment happened when he was a child - no, focus. The present was a mess, but apparently there was a solution. "What's wrong with me? Are you sure it can be mended? I'm not doubting your skill, it's just... I've been like this since I was four, maybe even before that."
What was life like, fully in control of one's self and feeling the world to be real constantly? He had a glimpse of that when he was working himself hard and hungry, but then his mind was always clouded over with the disorientation of needing food and wrestling with himself over it.
no subject
He wondered if there would be enough of him left mentally for her to catch, but directed his attention to the Doctor, looking ahead as she requested, then watching her every moment with mounting anxiety. He wanted to be hopeful, wanted to believe she would hand him a way to never slip out of his own mind and watch the world from afar again. Ben also knew that there were limits to what medicine could do even under ideal circumstances. As one First Order doctor had told Ben once, medicine was not magic. Now he was torn between his inner optimist and years of bitter experiences with false hope, although back then, he hadn't known there was a word for what was going on with him.
"You did? And you do?" Wait, what? Years of doing everything short of dying in order to stay sane, and this could have been fixed with a brain scan and a competent doctor? For a moment a pang went through him. What would it have been like had this appointment happened when he was a child - no, focus. The present was a mess, but apparently there was a solution. "What's wrong with me? Are you sure it can be mended? I'm not doubting your skill, it's just... I've been like this since I was four, maybe even before that."
What was life like, fully in control of one's self and feeling the world to be real constantly? He had a glimpse of that when he was working himself hard and hungry, but then his mind was always clouded over with the disorientation of needing food and wrestling with himself over it.