Perfect

Chapter Eleven

Following a late mid meal, after an extensive physical therapy session, I walked with my student down the hallway. He followed me without question as a good Padawan should. At least until I paused in front of the Door of Doom.

"What are we doing here?" the boy asked. "Don't tell me you finally gave into the Council's advice. Are you feeling okay?"

"Listen, Anakin," I said, taking on my most mentoring tone. "This is for you. I'm concerned about your mental state. Don't worry, I'm going in with you. Healer T'Pal comes highly recommended. I promise this won't hurt at all."

The expression on the boy's face was one I didn't recognize immediately, and I thought I'd seen them all. He was confused then merely concerned, just before he appeared resolved. After all of that, he shrugged his shoulder, cradling his new arm.

"Okay," he answered.

That was something else I hadn't expected. Like me, I thought he would oppose the idea of counseling and at least argue with me about it. He may be more ill than I'd initially believed.

We entered into the lobby, seeing a couple of faces I recognized. Eye contact was avoided. Apparently, I wasn't the only Jedi who saw therapy as an inability to independently communicate with the Force.

I stepped up to the receptionist to encounter none other than the young Padawan who'd been so complementary to me the day before.

"Master Kenobi," she said with a pleasant smile. "Allow me to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I acted in an…" she paused as if trying to remember the words her Master most likely told her to say… "unprofessional manner unacceptable for a Jedi Padawan."

I couldn't help but smile back. "Apology accepted, Padawan Noqui. You have demonstrated conscious activity of the basic skills which include attitude and adjustment. Well done."

Anakin's eyes were rolling. I didn't even have to look at him to know. I could sense it.

"You and your Padawan may head back, Master Kenobi," the receptionist said along with a broad smile.

"Never," my student croaked as we stepped together down the hall.

"What was that?"

"You have never been that easy on me! What did she do?"

He was irritated, and I completely understood why. This environment would annoy anyone. "She praised my apparent heroism to excess yesterday."

"How tragic."

The words were clipped and sarcastic. This session may not go as well as I'd hoped.

"Good afternoon Master Kenobi, Padwan Skywalker," Healer T'Pal announced welcoming us inside the therapy room. On one side was a large desk with a metal chair behind it and two in front. My focus was on the opposite side of the room though, where the Lunatic Lounge was located.

I waited for T'Pal to request my Padawan take a seat there and get comfortable, but she didn't. She motioned us to a round table in the corner; one that had three chairs.

Okay. That was also unexpected.

After arranging her large frame on a seat that had obviously been built to accommodate her size, she began asking general questions; such as how long we'd been a Jedi pair, how many missions had we been on together, and which one was our most harrowing.

At that point, my Padawan broke in. So far, I had been doing most of the talking, but recalled this was his session and I needed to let him speak.

"I'd say the most dangerous mission so far was to Carnelion IV," he responded.

"How can you possibly recall that?" I asked him.

"I remember every detail," Anakin replied adamantly. "Don't you?"

Actually, that mission had been rather uneventful and I'd put it out of my mind. I wasn't sure why he considered it our most dangerous. We'd had several we'd barely survived. That one to Andara came to mind.

"Of course I remember it," I replied, although only a few details actually.

"Tell me about this mission, Padawan Skywalker," Healer T'Pal encouraged as she tapped a long claw against her datapad.

"We landed in the mountains and were immediately taken into custody. The leader of the mountain clan thought we were spies from the valley. No matter what we did, she refused to believe we were Jedi. We attempted an escape from their prison, hopped on board a ship headed down when we were attacked. We crashed into the mountainside. The clan leader assumed we were dead. For a while, I thought my Master was. He was banged up pretty bad and I had to carry him down myself. The valley clan took care of him, but he was unconscious for several days and had no memory of what had happened."

"Is this information correct, Master Kenobi?" T'Pal asked.

I didn't know, so I couldn't answer. I was apparently unconscious for a portion of that mission. "My Council report provides all the details of that particular mission, Healer T'Pal," I assured her, at which point she began clacking away on her screen again.

"I have the actual original report right here," she informed me softly, turning the screen around for a fraction of a second for me to see. "There were several council members who dictated concern over the lack of certain details. Perhaps you can elaborate for me at this time?"

What was this? A Council inquiry? Who had put her up to this? Windu? Calm down, I told myself. Getting upset and storming out would most likely land me right back in here, only next time against my will.

"I don't actually recall arriving on Carnelion or the crash. But I do remember waking up in the med tent with something smelly stuck to my head."

"Kolto," Anakin informed us both. "Due to the ongoing civil war, they had run out of Bacta and were forced to use it. But you're right Master, you did stink."

"Tell me, Master Kenobi," T'Pal continued. "What happened before you reached Carnelion IV? Do you recall the events leading up to it?"

"Of course I do," I told her, although the memory didn't come to me right away. In fact, the more I tried to access it, the further away it seemed to skitter, just beyond my grasp as if it were playing hide and seek with me. How maddening!

Hold on a second!

"Why are you asking all of these questions? Aren't we here for you to examine my Padawan?"

"Master," Anakin said in a way that sounded as if someone much older than the age of seventeen was speaking. "You suffered a head injury which has affected your memory around that time. We don't know how extensive it is. When you and I finally returned to the Temple and I asked you to seek medical help, do you recall refusing to? You kept saying you were fine. You weren't fine then and you aren't now."

I'd been set up! That's all there was to it. I could refuse to continue therapy, couldn't I? I was the one who had agreed to it in the first place!

"If you will allow me, I can perform a scan of your hippocampus, or I could take a look myself, to see if there is some residual damage. You apparently suffered a type of post-traumatic amnesia and are experiencing some memory loss."

I was livid and I was struggling to hide it. "Padawan, did you speak with T'Pal before this meeting?" The two were obviously in cahoots.

"Master, don't be angry. I'm just trying to help you."

That was it. "This is ridiculous! I did not get married to Senator Amidala! I don't even know her that well!"

Before I heard another word from either of them, I left the room, ignoring the well wishes from the somewhat infatuated receptionist I passed. I would figure this out on my own. I wasn't about to let some quack Jedi Healer or a seventeen year old padawan convince me I'd forgotten I was married!