Perfect

Chapter Ten

My Padawan. He was a unique individual. Strong in the Force, quick to act, though less so to think. I had grown quite fond of him, as I would a brother.

During our ten years together, I had also gotten to know him very well. I could often guess his words before he spoke them. I knew what his favorite foods were and those he detested. I knew what his greatest strengths were, as well as his weaknesses. He was brave and yet he was also afraid. I led him through lengthy meditations to rid himself of such fears, which included abandonment, death, and pain while promising him he wasn't alone or weak. He was human. We all had fears to a certain point about such things.

What I didn't understand about him was his constant need to play tricks on me. He seemed to get a kick out of it. I realize that sometimes I agitated him with my own pranks, but they were my way of making him relax and see the humor in a variety of situations. I never carried them too far.

When he tried to convince me I was married to Senator Amidala – that I had proposed to her ten years ago, I asked the nurse droid to come check his vitals. He had to have a fever or something. Or maybe he was hallucinating.

But all his tests were normal and he swore to me he was telling the truth.

How was that possible? I was only in my mid-thirties – too young for symptoms of old-timer's forgetfulness. If I had committed myself to Padme Amidala, I would remember doing so.

Wouldn't I?

And if for some reason, though highly improbable, I did exchange vows with her, wouldn't she have said something to me about that? I had just run into her in the hall and she was friendly, if not a little short with me. And days before when we met in her apartment, she didn't seem upset or angry.

I just didn't get it. If Anakin thought this was funny, he was wrong. He may think he owed me a couple, but he had gone too far.

Perhaps it was time I took this matter up with a professional. We had healers in the Temple who would meet with Jedi who were having issues. I'd always avoided them in the past, even though the Council had advised I seek one out. That was years ago, and in my opinion, my Padawan and I were getting along very well.

At least until tonight. Maybe the boy was having those recurring nightmares about his mother's impending death again. He'd had them when he was younger and I thought they had passed. I'd been pleased with the way he had handled our talks concerning the matter and the meditations we had participated in together, but maybe it was time for a Healer to intervene.

Such a tall tale as the one he'd just told me, and the fact that he believed it to be true was worrisome indeed.

Before I talked myself out of it, I headed down the hall from the infirmary toward a door I had avoided all my life; the one marked T'Pal: Mind Healer.

After a deep breath and its slow release, I stepped inside, almost immediately accosted by a young Padawan who recognized me. She was shocked to see me inside these rooms and told me so. I suppose rumors of my avoidance were well known throughout the Temple.

The young one continued on and on about some details of my more dangerous missions, bringing up the fact I had single-handedly killed a Sith Lord. I was trying to be kind, but was pressed for time.

Okay, I'll admit it. I was becoming impatient. I wasn't a holonet star, I was a Jedi Master and my Padawan needed help! Thankfully, Healer T'Pal, all two and a half meters of her, entered the lobby and dismissed the excited apprentice.

"Master Kenobi, you'll have to excuse Padawan Noqui. She's suffering from a little hero worship."

"No damage done," I assured her.

"How may I help you? Would you care to step inside my office? I have a comfortable chair you could sit on."

Yeah, I'd heard about her chair. Once you're in it, you seem more than willing to spill all your secrets. I wasn't about to allow her to stomp around inside my brain. I considered it private property. And besides, I wasn't the one with the problem!

"No, that's okay. This won't take but a minute. I'm here concerning my Padawan. I think he may be having some issues. He just had an arm replaced with a prosthetic and he doesn't seem to be handling it very well."

"I'm sorry to hear that," T'Pal told me, her almond-shaped golden eyes narrowing in concern. "Would you be able to manage to bring him by, say, around 1400 hours tomorrow?"

"That would be fine," I told the Healer, offering a quick bow of appreciation. "I'll make certain he reports to you then."

At that point, I spun on my heel to leave, satisfied I was doing the best thing for my student when the Healer requested a further audience with me.

"You do realize your presence will be required, Master Kenobi. I do not initiate therapy with a Padawan learner without the assistance of their Master."

Where was that rule written down? Even if it was, was it one that could be broken? Or possibly bent a little?

"I have other responsibilities, Healer, but I'll make certain he's here," I promised, adding a smile for good measure – just to show her how cooperative I was being.

"I'm afraid that's not possible. Temple policy. All treatment of minors requires the presence of the guardian."

Perfect! Just fragging perfect! "I'd rather not," I stated more boldly.

"Then I cannot treat your Padawan," T'Pal countered rather bluntly.

How could I argue with a Trandoshan? Especially one who was a Jedi? It was a lost cause and I had a bad feeling I had stepped into a big pile of poodoo.

I cared about Anakin and I wanted to help him. I couldn't let my pride stand in the way of that. I had no choice but to agree to attend the therapy session.

Yes, Qui-Gon, the Sith hells just froze over.