Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice; John Flanagan does. I am obviously not Flanagan or I wouldn't be writing about Will getting the Bieber Fever.

Yes, okay, I know the title made you go "What the heck?" And that's what I thought when I first got the idea. But it was absolutely too hard to resist, so here I am, typing away. I have no obsession whatsoever with Justin Bieber, if you were wondering.

Also, I would like to say that I know Justin Bieber was not around when Ranger's Apprentice takes place, but hey, this is fanfiction! Anything can happen. So please do not complain about that in your review.

So without further ado, I present... Bieber Fever.

"Halt! Halt! I need help!" A desperate Will, flushed as red as a ripe tomato, bust the cabin's door down and searched frantically for the grizzled Ranger. Halt always knew what to do.

Halt stared down at the panicking young boy. "Yes, Will? Oh, and by the way, you're going to pay for that broken door."

"Halt, I have..." Will got down on his knees and put his hands out dramatically. "The Bieber Fever!"

There was silence, where Halt stared blankly at the boy in front of him. Finally, Halt spoke.

"The what?"

"The Bieber Fever," Will said again, even more dramatically.

"Would you care to explain what the heck this 'Beaver Fever' is?" Halt said, turning around to get some coffee. This seemed like a huge joke. He was tired of pranks; Gilan had been enough trouble.

"The Bieber fever is basically an addiction to Justin Bieber," Will said, following Halt and looking desperate. "He's a famous singer."

"Apparently not famous, or I'd have heard of him," Halt scoffed. "So what do you want me to do?"

Will rolled his eyes in a duh way and looked at Halt. "Cure it! I can't stop thinking about him!"

"How am I supposed to cure it?" Halt said incredulously. "I'm not a therapist or anything! I expect Gilan will know more about this stupid fever; why don't you ask him instead? Besides, I have paperwo—"

Will used the classic puppy-eye trick on the irritated Halt. The older Ranger groaned.

"What am I supposed to be curing again?" Halt said, putting down his coffee and pulling a chair up for Will to sit in.

"You have to cure my Bieber Fever," Will explained. "I can't stop thinking about Justin Bieber."

"Well then," Halt said immediately, "the answer is simple. Stop thinking about this Justin Beaver guy."

Will rolled his eyes again. "Do you think I haven't thought about that? I've tried that, but it doesn't work! Every time my mind just keeps wandering back to Justin Bieber."

"You know," Halt said quickly, desperate to put an end to this stupid therapist thing. "You could just go find a local therapist, and ask him to—" Seeing the pleading puppy-eyes that Will had put on again, Halt groaned. "The things I do for my apprentice," he muttered.

"Please help me, Halt!" Will cried, tears leaking in his eyes. "I can't stop thinking about him, I think I'm going to explode! Help me!"

"All right," Halt said as professionally as he could. "Step one for curing the Beaver Fever—"

"You know, you're not going to cure anything if you don't get the name right," Will said in an exasperated voice. "It's Bieber. Bee-ber. Beeeeeee-ber. Bee-b—"

"ALL RIGHT, I GET IT!" Halt jumped out of his chair, ripping chunks of hair out. He sat back down and calmed down.

"As I was saying: Step one to curing the Bieber Fever—stop thinking about Justin Beaver."

Will didn't bother to correct Halt this time; he really felt as if he were going to explode. His mind couldn't get off of the hair-flipping singing sensation...

"What is happening to me?" Will cried, interrupting Halt's sentence. "Why can't I stop thinking about him?"

"Obviously because you're going insane," Halt advised the worried apprentice. "By the way, how did you get to know this Beaver person?"

"Alyss told me about him..." Will moaned, putting his head in his hands. "I seriously regret it now..."

Halt frowned. He did not want his apprentice influenced with such things. Especially singing sensations.

"Look, do you want to know the cure or what?" Halt said, eyeing the crying Will tiredly.

Will stopped crying immediately. "Yes."

Halt nodded. "Step one, as I said earlier, was to stop thinking about the Beaver guy. To do this, you must stay out of range of any of his products, songs, or anything having to do with him. Do not even say his name."

"Right," Will said, as he registered the step. "So I can't think about...the beaver."

"Yes," replied Halt.

"But Halt," Will said, a bemused expression on his face, "Aren't you just making me think about Justin Bieber by telling me how to cure the Bieber Fever?"

"No," Halt said matter-of-factly. "Once I am done explaining you can put the cure into action."

"Oh," said the apprentice, though he had no idea what Halt meant. He kept listening anyway.

"Now step two," Halt continued with a flourish, "is focus on the people around you. Stop thinking about Beaver, and focus on people you actually know."

"You mean like Alyss?" Will mused.

"Yes, people like Alyss," Halt approved. Will nodded to show he understood.

"And step three—spend time doing other things, instead of thinking about the Beaver. For example, stop trying to stalk him—" Halt gestured to the radio transmitter that Will had been trying to assemble. Will turned a bright red. "—and instead focus on your training." Halt paused. "Is this whole Beaver Fever the reason you've been slow in training?"

Will nodded, shamefaced. Then he brightened. "Does that mean, Halt," he said, "that if I follow those three steps that I'll finally be cured of the Bieber Fever?"

"Yes, Will," Halt said, turning to his coffee again. He began sipping the delicious drink, for the first time considering whether he should become a therapist. The job was quite enjoyable, believe it or not.

"Thanks so much, Halt!" Will cried, bouncing from his chair, his brown hair flying behind him.

Halt rolled his eyes. Apprentices were so weird.

Wasn't it so weird? Probably the weirdest ideas I've ever gotten. So...please review, and tell me what you think. No flames because they will be left for me to make my s'mores. ;) Constructive criticism is always welcome.