spooktober prompt: therapist
You are in a mental well-being center. There's a routine to your day, everything is automated, completely safe. You like that. No surprises, nothing out of the ordinary.
"Your treatment, sir." The protocol droid holds out a tray with two cups. One with water. One with capsules.
You place the capsules in your mouth, swallow them down with the water.
"Very good, sir." The droid bows as it leaves, door locking into place behind.
Time outside is to be used for meditation. On what or to whom you're not sure. But you do enjoy the sunshine. It's warm. The garden is lovely too. Scuttles flit among the dainty flowers, iridescent wings shimmering. A bench in the center seems made for you. You sit and feel the sun, watch the scuttles, inhale the perfume of flowers. This is your favorite time of day.
Sometimes you see the others. But not often. When you do, they are quiet and content.
"You have a message, sir."
Your brows knit together. The droid leads you to a part of the center you've never been before. Why would you? You've never received a message before. You don't know anyone outside of these white walls. You barely know anyone in them. The droid presses a button on the machine, stepping back as a blue flickering holo leaps to life.
"Master! I finally figured it out. I'm sorry it took me so long. Whatever they're doing to you, you have to fight it! Just hang on. I'm coming for you! Ahsoka and I-"
The blue light shuts off.
"End of message," says the droid, hand still on the power button.
"Your treatment, sir." The protocol droid holds out a tray with two cups.
You place the capsules in your mouth. Remembering what the man in the holo said, you hide them under your tongue and swallow down the water.
"Very good sir."
After it leaves, you spit out the capsules and hide them under your pillow.
It's raining. The meditation session in the garden is cancelled. You should probably feel disappointed. Or angry. Or something. Maybe it's because you didn't take your capsules. Maybe it's because of the strange man in the holo. But you don't feel anything. Empty, like the wash basin after the plug is pulled.
Tonight, you can't sleep. Maybe because of the capsules. Maybe because of the man. He didn't look familiar to you. You never even got his name. The more you think about it, the more you wonder whether there wasn't some mix up. You're not even sure the message was actually meant for you.
"Your treatment, sir." The droid and the tray. Capsules and water.
You swallow.
"Very good, sir."
Two more capsules under your pillow.
The sun and scuttles and flowers. You find it difficult to concentrate. Your thoughts won't come together. They slide across the surface of your mind, oil slicks on wet pavement. Questions and doubts where before there was only serenity and contentment. You stop one of the droids on the way back to your room. It's not your usual droid.
"Do I have any family?"
"Family, sir?"
"Yes."
"Why do you ask?"
"When was I brought here?"
"Every one of our patients is here for treatment, sir. If you did not need to be here, you would not be here."
In your room, your usual droid attendant is standing at the head of your bed. In its hand are four capsules.
"I am disappointed."
Behind you, there's the rolling of wheels and a FX-7 stops by your elbow.
"We are here to help."
FX-7 pricks your neck with a needle.
There's a routine to your day, everything is automated, completely safe. You like that. No surprises, nothing out of the ordinary.
"Your treatment, sir." The protocol droid holds out a tray with two cups. One with water. One with capsules.
You place the capsules in your mouth, swallow them down with the water.
"Very good, sir." The droid bows as it leaves, door locking into place behind.
Time outside is to be used for meditation. On what or to whom you're not sure. But you do enjoy the sunshine. It's warm. The garden is lovely too. Scuttles flit among the dainty flowers, iridescent wings shimmering. A bench in the center seems made for you. You sit and feel the sun, watch the scuttles, inhale the perfume of flowers. This is your favorite time of day.
Tomorrow you will be fighting a war. You don't know that yet. First, the man from the holo message bursts into your room, cuts through your droid attendant, and calls you Obi-Wan. He is fast and powerful and so, so angry.
His lightsaber slashes through droid after droid, slices through lock after lock. You run after him because you don't know what else to do. He is insistent and compelling and leaves you no other option. Chaos trails the pair of you: droids dripping slag on the polished floors, the other patients startled from tranquility into fear. No one is taking charge. No one knows how. No one understands why their home is under attack.
Outside, it is night. A shuttle crushes the garden. The man propels you toward it. This becomes a bit too real for you. You don't know him. You don't know what he wants with you. You want your flowers back. You want to take your capsules. You want-
A flash of white and blue and you pull up short. The man beside you growls. In front of you, another man. He also holds a saber, low. Defensively.
"Anakin, what have you done?"
"Who are you?"
"Anakin, it's me."
"No. This is a trick. Another one of Dooku's lies."
"Stop. Please."
"I won't be fooled again. I've found Obi-Wan. He's right here."
The angry man grabs your arm, pushes you forward. You don't resist.
"Search your feelings, Anakin. You know this isn't right."
"I...It's because of whatever they were doing to him. Somehow they were blocking his connection to the Force."
"This is madness! Can you not sense me?"
"You're lying!"
With a roar, the angry man launches himself at the other. They perform a deadly dance, blades clashing, throwing sparks into the night. You can only stare. It is over quickly. The angry man punches his saber through the other's chest. His face collapses in shock and sadness. His body drops. The angry man retrieves his lightsaber.
"Here."
Numb, you accept the dead man's weapon. The angry man leads the way into the shuttle. You follow. What else can you do?