Dear Teacher Bel-San:

My name is Javskl, and since I’m on the Outer Rim on a permanent mission, news doesn’t travel very fast. I just heard that you’re not going to be teaching anymore, and I thought that even though you might not remember me, I remember you.

I was in your first Cultural Studies of Amphibious Planets class, and I think it might have been one of the first ones you ever taught. Even though you were really young, and we all knew you hadn’t been in front of a class much, you still made us want to learn. And that’s saying quite a bit, considering everyone in my class.

As much as I credit my master and myself for gaining my Knighthood, you showed me more about what it is to be a Jedi in that class than I’d seen up until that point. You had so much enthusiasm for something as seemingly insignificant as a bunch of fish that it made me realize how truly interconnected we are in this galaxy, and how much we can learn from the worlds around us.

I doubt that my letter will change your mind about going back to teaching, but I thought I should let you know how much of an impact your presence had in my life, and that I still sometimes think about your class and apply the lessons I learned there to my life as a Jedi. Thank you.

May the Force be with you,

Javskl Peronis

***

“Jes! Come on, Jes.”

Qui-Gon placed the silver dish of food on the floor in the kitchen, waiting for the small cat to appear. “I know you’re hungry.”

A minute or so went by, but he remained alone in the kitchen with only the odor of bitter fish wafting from the bowl for company. “Jes!”

Rubbing his temples with one hand, he sighed. It had been like this for days. He had almost preferred Alla’s indignant tantrums when she was thirteen to the cat’s outright disdain of his presence. “Go away for a few days an you pay and you pay. . .”

He walked out of the room, moving towards the chair at his workstation in the vain hope that someone might have sent him a message. He wasn’t sure exactly how he’d been cast in the role of the caste system untouchable, but it was starting to irritate him. As he sat down, he heard the light patter of kitten feet across the kitchen tile, and he frowned. “Stupid cat.”

At least Obi-Wan will be home soon, he thought as he scrolled through the list of general Temple messages, all of which he’d already read. Not as if I’ll be in for stellar companionship there, but at least he’s talking to me, unlike everyone else I know.

A light blinked at the bottom of the screen, and Qui-Gon touched the datapad. Someone actually had sent him a message.

Dear Master,

Thought you might like to talk.

Alla

Communication is so impersonal these days, he thought. Instead of coming down a few floors on the old lift, you get a text message that might have been written by a monkey considering the vast amount of warmth and emotion in it. Still, it was the best he’d gotten in days. At least it indicated someone actually did want to have a conversation with him, though considering the last interaction he’d had with his former padawan, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for another round.

Feeling empowered by the sheer indignation of it all, he picked up his comlink. Quickly dialing in her code, he listened for the click indicating the call had gone through, and then began speaking before she even answered.

“What, you can’t even give your master a call these days?”

Her voice came back cracked and just above a whisper. “Actually I lost my voice, and I broke my fingers, so I had to type with a stick in my mouth.”

He jumped half out of his seat. “Alla! What happened?”

“I’m fine. Are you retarded? You’d know if something happened to me.”

He stopped, utterly confused, sitting back down. “What? Do I have the right apartment?”

Qui-Gon heard her sigh through the link. “I’m just trying to say that if maybe you’d come out from hiding underneath your rock, you’d know what was going on and some of us might feel more inclined to give you a call.”

“Never mind. This was a bad idea.” He clicked off the comlink, setting it down on the desk. He didn’t like resolving conflicts over the com anyway.

Switching off his message service, he pulled up the midterm reviews that Obi-Wan’s teachers had sent. While it wasn’t surprising that his actual performance marks had dropped, the fact that Obi-Wan was being reported as difficult and combative with other children was. Since Qui-Gon had taken him back from Heri a week ago, the boy had already been sent home twice for fighting.

Qui-Gon sighed. He honestly didn’t know what to do. Obi-Wan resisted any attempts to discuss the problems he was having in his classes, and took whatever punishments Qui-Gon devised for him without a word, whether it be scrubbing rocks or meditative time-outs.

The door slid open before he was halfway through the first report.

“Qui-Gon Jinn! What is the matter with you? You’re acting no better than a petulant two-year old.”

Qui-Gon regarded her passively. “So I’ve been told. Take a number. And very adult entrance, by the way. Maybe you should throw something or stamp your feet as you storm in.”

“You want to play? Bring it on.”

“I think it might be best if we continue this conversation at another time.”

“Oh no, I think now is the perfect time.” Alla paused for a second, her gaze cool. “Do you know that you’re isolating yourself from everyone around you?”

Qui-Gon started ticking words off on his fingers. “Isolating, childish, selfish . . .you must have read the notes to Payter’s speech. Heard it once. Don’t need a recap.”

“It’s obvious you do, and if there’s one thing you taught me, it’s stubbornness, and I will stand here every day for the next ten years if I have to and tell it to you again.”

“I could argue with you all day, but honestly, arguing is just starting to bore me. It’s all I’ve been doing lately, you know, and there’s not a whole lot left to say, except that things break, they fall apart, and sometimes you can’t fix them.” Qui-Gon shrugged. “End of story.”

“Sometimes things do fall apart, but you’ll never know if you can put them back together if you don’t try.”

“Thanks for the deep thought, Little Miss Sunshine, but I’m not really interested in Beginner Level Philosophy.”

“You can say any nasty thing you want to me, Qui-Gon. I’m still not leaving.”

“Far be it for me to keep you from anything, like seeing to your padawan.”

Alla swept her hands in front of her, and then placed them on her hips. “We all know I learned from the best.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad master?”

“I don’t know; why don’t you ask Obi-Wan? But from what I understand, he’ll probably take a swing at you. Become a feisty little guy, hasn’t he? I wonder where he picked that up.”

“I’d like you to leave now.”

“I’d like you to stop acting like a jackass, but I don’t think either one of us is going to get our way, do you?”

Qui-Gon picked up his comlink. “This is my apartment. I do have certain rights. I can have you removed.”

Alla sat down at the couch, crossing her legs and arms simultaneously. She waved a hand at the com unit. “Fine. I’ll just get comfortable until the cavalry arrives to take me away, Master Jedi Sir.”

“Don’t think I won’t call them.”

“Oh, I know you won’t. Far be it for you to ask anyone for help.”

“What the hell is your problem, exactly?”

Alla snorted. “My problem. Right. You’ve already driven away the only person who could talk any sense into you right now, so now it’s left to me. Which is a duty I really revel in. Oh wait. You think I like doing this? You think I like coming in here and laying it all out on the table for you in the most hurtful way possible? You’re crazy if you think that, but unfortunately for both of us, I can’t allow myself to leave until you realize what exactly is going on here.”

“What exactly do you think is going on here?”

“I’ve known you for more than half my life—for twenty years—and I was with you when you took your first steps towards being a Master. And as much as I wanted to hold on to my sense of hero worship, you wouldn’t let me. You taught me to be aware of my weaknesses, and right now, you’re not paying attention to yours. So if you think that I’m here out of some sense of authority over you, you’re sadly mistaken. I hate doing this. You’re my Master. I’m supposed to look to you, and I hate having to be here explaining to you how to do your job.” She made an indelicate sound. “You’re better than this. Start acting like it.”

“Well. I guess I have to say thank you. You’ve shown me the way. Through your kind words and your gentle affection, I’ve come to see the error of my ways. I’ll be a better Master, I promise. You don’t have to worry about any of my imperfections any longer, because I’ll be perfect from now on. You can go now.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say.” She shook her head, her shoulders slumped in something he wasn’t sure was defeat or exhaustion. “I’m worried. About you. I’ve never seen you and Bel-San fight like this. And I know better than anyone else how you felt when you thought you had no friends, because I was the only person you talked to for almost three years.”

“The reason I confided in you during that time was because I knew you would be the soul of discretion, and that I could trust you. Right now, nobody falls into that category. Despite your intentions today, you’ve done more harm than good. And I really do think you should go. Obi-Wan will be home soon, and I don’t want him to see us fighting.”

“I know that everything feels really terrible right now, Master, but maybe if you could look outside the moment for a while, you might see things differently. I know it’s hard, and it will probably take some time, but the Unifying Force might give you a fresh perspective.”

“I really don’t have anything left to say right now.”

“I just need you to promise me one thing, okay? Promise me that this will not be the last time we ever speak. You’re too important in my life for me not to fight to keep you there.”

He nodded.

Alla moved towards the door, closing the distance between them, and for a moment, he thought she might just walk out the door. Instead she turned, her hands tense at her sides, and then she reached out and wrapped her arms around him, so lightly he could barely feel her touch.

He thought for a moment of just letting it go at that. But it was Alla. She could kick him in the face, and he’d still hug her back. Even if part of him still wanted to shove her out the door for everything she’d said, he couldn’t help but return her embrace, feeling her chin press sharply into his shoulder as he hugged her tightly back.

“We’ll talk,” he said softly, releasing her.

***

Dear Teacher Bel-San:

I just found out that next term I’m going to have to take Intermediate Social Patterns for Binary Species with that huge-gobbed space slug of a Teacher, Spil Flankos. Like as if anyone want to look at her all during class instead of you. Double sigh!

My friends and I have all agreed that you, without any doubt, are the most sexilicious Teacher in the Temple. That the Temple has seen in like, the last 800 years. We consulted the annuals in the Library. (Your Knighting piccy was way fab, by the way! I have a copy on my wall.)

Anyway, I know I’m entirely too young for you (which is tres sad, as I’m sure you’re agree) but I will be eighteen in two years, if you’re still looking for something to occupy your time. (My Master is so last century. If you ever want to take a padawan, that would be all right too!! I know I would learn even more from you than I have already!!)

Ahh. I suppose you’re quite busy now that you don’t have to answer to the snot-nosed kiddios, but I thought I should send this along anyway, to let you know that you’ve devastated the entire ranks of la femme padawans. No one will ever sign up willingly for cultural classes of insert species here without you. Especially me. Triple sigh!!

With deepest love and much longing,

Georgia Oceffe XXXXOOOO

P.S. Feel free to write me back! (swoon!)

***

“So, don’t like hit me or anything if I say this, but, um, what are you going to tell your Master?”

Obi-Wan scowled at Slade, clutching the datachip in his hands that would be his death sentence. “Maybe he’ll be meeting with the Council all day. Maybe I won’t have to tell him yet. Maybe he’ll get sent away again and I won’t have to tell him at all.”

“Yeah. Well, whatever you do, don’t try beating him up. You’ll definitely lose.”

“Shut up! You were the one who told me I should stand up for myself. You’re the one who said not to let people bully me around.”

“I didn’t say you should make them bleed and send them to the Infirmary.”

“It was an accident. How was I supposed to know it was so easy to break someone’s nose? It’s not like they teach us that in classes.”

Slade flicked his tail. “They do kind of teach us nonviolence, and releasing anger and such…”

“I didn’t ask your opinion anyway—“

“Whoa, buddy! Put the fists down! I’m on your side, okay? I’ll even bring you dinner when your master has you imprisoned in the gardens cutting the grass with your teeth.”

“He’s going to be really mad. Like go to the Dark Side mad. Maybe I could come home with you for a little bit, and maybe I could just send it to him.” Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, which had gotten longer in the time his master had been away.

“I think that might just make it worse. It might be smarter to play up your black eye, you know, tell him you’re having a hard time seeing, feeling like you might throw up…go in the ‘fresher and make throwing-up sounds. Maybe cry. Crying works pretty well with Masters, I’ve found overall.”

“Well you do cry an awful lot, crybaby, so I guess you would know.”

“Hey! You know, technically, I could get in trouble just talking to you right now. But since I’m your friend, and since I know you’re still going to want to help me with the homework you’re going to miss, I’ll let that go. Also, I’m taller than you.”

“So is Derik. I still broke his nose.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s going to be real sad when his Master’s not mad at him and you’re being punished for the rest of your life.”

“He totally tried to hit me, you saw it.”

“Only because you called him a nerf-eater. You know nerfs are sacred on his planet. Also, him trying to hit you doesn’t count when you take the first swing.”

“He still hit me.”

“In self-defense!”

“Whatever. Come on. Help me think of something to tell him. You’re smart, sometimes. Help me out.”

Slade’s eyes narrowed, which always meant he was deep in thought. “Well, how come your Master doesn’t know you were fighting in the first place? Doesn’t he know when you get hurt, like the whole bond and all?”

“I don’t know. He’s been weird since he got back. Yesterday he forgot to put milk on his cereal.”

“So he’s off in Masterland, is what you’re saying.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Then maybe he won’t notice that you’ve been suspended from classes.”

“I’m not suspended. I just can’t go for awhile.”

“That’s what they call suspension in layman’s terms.”

“You’re making this sound worse than it is. All I have to do is sit around for a week and meditate on why I feel bad and write stupid Derik a stupid note and tell him I’m sorry I broke his stupid nose, even though I’m not sorry. He has an ugly nose anyway. Maybe if it wasn’t so big and ugly it wouldn’t have been so easy for me to break.” He snickered. “He screamed like a little girl.”

Slade grimaced. “I don’t know if I’d share that thought with your Master.”

Obi-Wan stopped walking, looking at his friend. “You don’t think he’s going to, I don’t know, disown me do you? I mean, he’s not friends with Bel-San anymore, and he and Payter had a huge fight and they’ve been friends forever. And he’s not even talking to Alla either, and she was his old padawan. You don’t think he’d send me back to the Creche, do you?”

“Nah. I’m sure it will be fine. I mean, he’ll be pissed at first, but he’ll get over it.”

“Sure. He will. I think.” He looked at Slade hopefully. “You sure you don’t want to come in with me?”

“I’d better not. Heri will, ah, be looking for me. She needs my help with something. Anyway, I gotta go. Good luck. May the Force be with you and all that.”

Obi-Wan watched his friend until he disappeared from sight around the corner of the corridor. Taking in a deep breath, he reluctantly lifted his hand to touch the keypad, flinching as the door slid open.

He took one step inside, hoping his Master might not be there, but the Force was not with him. His Master was sitting on the couch, waiting for him to come in. Obi-Wan immediately covered his left eye with his hand, as if he’d suddenly gotten a bit tired.

“Does your head hurt, Obi-Wan?”

“Yeah. I got a headache. Class was really hard today.”

“Well, come here. I can help you with that.”

“No, that’s okay. I think I just need to lay down. But first I thought I would clean my room.”

“Put your hand down, Obi-Wan.”

“No, see, I accidentally glued it there. It was hurting at school, and I forgot I had some glue on it from the project we were doing, and it got stuck to my head. Teacher said it would have to stay there for five to seven days until the glue comes off.”

“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

“If I take my hand down, do you promise not to be mad?”

“What’s wrong with your face, Obi-Wan?”

“You have to promise first.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m your master. Let me see.”

Obi-Wan sighed, lowering his hand, and resolutely handed the datachip to his master. “I got into a fight.”

“Obi-Wan, we have talked about this.” His Master set the datachip down, and then got to one knee, his fingers gently touching the corner of Obi-Wan’s black eye. “Does it hurt?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I really should just leave it as a reminder to you of what happens when you fight, but I can’t exactly have you wandering around looking like I beat you.” His Master placed both hands on either side of his face, and Obi-Wan felt the warm waves of Healing Force flow from his fingers. Within moments, the throbbing pain stilled to nothingness. “Is that better?”

Tears pricked suddenly at Obi-Wan’s eyes, and he looked away, pulling out of his Master’s touch. “You wouldn’t be so nice to me if you read the message on the datachip.”

“Did you kill somebody?”

“No.”

“So nobody’s dead. Everybody’s still alive.”

“Yes.”

“Then I think I can still be nice to you.”

“I still think you’re going to be mad.”

“Well, why don’t you go sit in your room, and think about what you did, and I’ll read the chip, and then we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

***

To: Master Qui-Gon Jinn

From: Teacher Kilea Harjone

Re: Obi-Wan

Master Jinn:

Although we have spoken on several occasions, the matter of Obi-Wan’s outbursts in class continues. This afternoon he provoked a fight with another member of the class and broke his nose, which required medical attention. In light of this unacceptable behavior, I am barring Obi-Wan from returning to class for the next five days. In its place, I require that you and your padawan meet with an anger management counselor during the times that Obi-Wan would have been scheduled in class. Only after I have received confirmation of completion of these meetings will I reinstate Obi-Wan into the classroom.

I have spoken with Simone Fischerking and she has agreed to meet with you at the scheduled times. Please contact her at your earliest convenience.

Kilea

***

Qui-Gon sighed. Alla had never needed counseling. This was really not something that he needed right now. Why couldn’t he and Obi-Wan just sort through this on their own? He’d never found counselors all that helpful in the past. They always pretended to know exactly how you felt, even though they barely left the Temple. How could he possibly relate to someone who’d never been across Coruscant?

He’d received a few messages from Teacher Kilea in the past weeks, but he honestly remembered little about what they’d said. He assumed the issue had been taken care of. Clicking back through the list, he scanned some of the messages, wondering how he’d missed the signs of Obi-Wan increasing hostility. Initially, he’d almost felt relieved to hear that Obi-Wan was sticking up for himself; it concerned him that the boy would be more of a target due to his young age. He’d never thought that Obi-Wan would be the one causing the problems.

Tossing aside the data chip, which bounced once before landing somewhere behind the couch, he reached for his comlink. Who did this Teacher think she was, anyway? She was barely even knighted. He would put a stop to this. If there was one skill Qui-Gon was confident he had, it was the ability to talk himself out of pretty much anything.

As he moved his fingers to punch in Kilea’s code, he stopped. He had met with her before on one occasion, and he had a feeling that convincing her over the com was not going to be likely. She was young, but quite stubborn, and it would probably all result in another Master-Teacher conference, which would just make everyone unhappy, including himself. Better to take it up with the counselor. If she would assure Teacher Kilea that all was well, there would be no need for these unnecessary sessions.

He dialed in Simone Fischerking’s code, waiting for the call to pass through.

“Counselor Fischerking’s office.”

“Yes, this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn calling. I would like to speak with Simone.”

“Are you calling to confirm your appointment?”

“No, I’m calling to speak with the counselor--”

“I’m sorry, Counselor Simone is unavailable at the moment. Shall I tell her you called to confirm your appointment?”

“Look, I’m not confirming anything until I speak with her.”

“Counselor Simone has left strict instructions that she’ll not speak with you until you confirm your appointment. Once your appointment has been confirmed, there are no cancellations. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Thank you.” The line went dead.

Qui-Gon stared at the comlink for a moment, then took a deep breath as he punched in another code.

“Yes?”

“Master, I need your help.”

“Calling for my help, you are? Falling, the sky, it is?”

“I didn’t call for your witticisms. Obi-Wan’s teacher has scheduled him for counseling sessions, and think it’s something we can handle on our own. I don’t think Obi-Wan would appreciate the help of an outsider.”

“Mmm, did not appreciate it, I think, the other padawan whose nose was broken.”

“This has been blown completely out of proportion. Honestly, if every padawan who ever broke another padawan’s nose was sent to counseling, Mace would still be in it for all the times he broke mine.”

“Trust the wisdom of the Teacher, you must. Attend the counseling sessions, you and your padawan will. Good to speak with you, it has been.”

That was the third time he’d been hung up on in one afternoon. Resisting the urge to hurl the comlink at the wall, he set it down calmly and made his way down the corridor towards Obi-Wan’s room.

Through the open door, he saw his padawan on his bed, lying on his stomach and buzzing one of his model ships along the surface of the blankets.

“I thought you were supposed to be meditating.”

“The ships help me think.”

“Why don’t you put that down and tell me exactly what happened today?”

Obi-Wan held the ship in the air for a moment, then set it down in front of him. “There was a fight.”

“I gathered as much. Maybe you could give me a better picture of how it all went.”

Obi-Wan sighed, dangling one arm over the edge of the bed. “Derik was being an asshole so I punched him in the face.”

Qui-Gon was across the room in a heartbeat. “First of all, you do not say that word. You are not old enough to say that word, and even when you are, it’s not polite, and I will not tolerate it. Secondly, we do not punch people in the face.”

“What about Guod? You punched him in the face.”

Qui-Gon pressed his lips together. My past just won’t leave me alone today, he thought. “There is a difference between a dangerous situation where you have to defend yourself, and attacking someone out of spite.”

“I was defending myself. He was making fun of me.”

“It’s your job as a Jedi to learn that attacking is not always the best course of action.”

“He stopped making fun of me when he started screaming.”

“You are entirely too pleased with the idea that you hurt someone.” He walked over to the doorway, pointing at it. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“The Gardens. There are some rocks there that would really like to meet you.”

“No! I’m not going.”

“You’re going, even if I have to carry you kicking and screaming down the halls. I’m sure you’d really make a great impression on all your friends looking like that.”

“I’m not scrubbing, and you can’t make me.”

Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest, and settled his gaze on his padawan. “You’re right. I can’t make you. But there are some things that I can make you do that are far less pleasant. I believe you have a choice to make.”

For a moment he thought the boy might defy him again, but he caved quickly and sulked his way to the door. “This sucks.”

“Keep it up, padawan. You’ll be scrubbing rocks until you’re eighteen.”

***

Stupid Derik,

I’m not sorry at all I broke your stupid fat nose you deserved it. If you had not screamed like a little girl then I wouldn’t have had to scrub stupid rocks in the stupid garden. You are stupid.

I was being a very good jedi by breaking your nose. I identefied my threat and took it out objectively. I only hope that when I’m on a reel mission that I can be as afficient. I hope your stupid nose swells to the size of your stupid head and you have to get a cane to hold it off the floor.

You should learn to duck.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan.

***

“Obi-Wan, this is a completely unacceptable letter and you know it.”

“You told me to write how I feel and this is how I feel.”

“You didn’t even check the spelling. You’re not sending this. You can’t rewrite it now, because we’re already late for our appointment, but as soon as we get back, you’re going to fix it. And you’re not allowed to use the word ‘stupid’ either.”

“I’ll use dumb then,” he muttered.

“You can use ‘dumb’ if you want to scrub rocks for three more hours.” Qui-Gon set the datapad down on the table. “Let’s go.”

They made their way down the hallways, passing by several classrooms where Obi-Wan would have spent part of his day. Obi-Wan kept his eyes firmly forward, not looking into any of the rooms, even though Qui-Gon could tell that he wanted to.

After walking down a few more corridors in silence, they arrived at the counselor’s office. As they walked in, the secretary looked up at them, a slight frown on her face. “You’re late.”

“Funny how it’s difficult to be punctual with a seven-year-old.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan whispered, “you were the one who wouldn’t get out of the refresher.”

“Just let the counselor know we’re here.” Qui-Gon turned away, gesturing the boy towards a series of brightly colored chairs designed particularly for children. Obi-Wan flopped down in one, arms crossed over his chest, while Qui-Gon perched on the edge of another, slightly afraid he might break it.

After about twenty minutes, the secretary called their name, and directed them towards the office rooms behind her desk.

“If we’re going to have to wait this long, we may as well be later next time,” Qui-Gon said under his breath as he walked by the desk.

A tall Berlini female greeted them at the door, her green cat eyes wide as she apologized. “I had an emergency with one of my younger patients. You must forgive the wait.”

Qui-Gon shifted uncomfortably. “Of course.”

She bent down slightly in his padawan’s direction. “My name is Simone. What’s yours?”

Obi-Wan kept his eyes on the carpeted floor. “You already know my name,” he said softly. “You look like a big cat.”

“You’re right, I do. And I do know your name, but I would rather hear you tell me your name than to read it off a datachip.”

“Fine. Obwakenbi.”

“My file must be wrong. It says here that you’re Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“That’s what I said.”

“It must be my hearing, then.” She pointed to her tufted ears. “Why don’t you both take a seat. Sit wherever you like.”

Qui-Gon looked around, thankful to see a variety of chairs and couches that he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking. He sat on one of the couches across the room from Simone, waiting to see where Obi-Wan would choose to sit. Obi-Wan frowned, rubbing one hand on the base of his neck as he scanned the room. After a few seconds, he made his way to an overstuffed chair beside Qui-Gon’s couch.

“I think it might be best for us to talk about why both of you are here,” Simone said, her tone soft. “Teacher Kilea is concerned about your recent behavior in class, Obi-Wan. She’s also concerned because your Master just got back from a mission, and she wants to make sure you’ve both had the time to talk about what’s happened and how you felt while you were apart.”

She paused, looking at Qui-Gon this time. “I am here to help both of you. We’ll do some talking, there will be some exercises for you to do here and some that I’d like you to work on at home. Before we start, do either of you have any questions?”

Obi-Wan made a small sound, and then sighed loudly. “I thought all I was going to have to do was write a stupid letter.”

“What have I told you about using the word stupid?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Okay. A dumb letter.”

Simone’s gaze moved between both of them, then came to rest on Obi-Wan. “You mean an apology letter?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think it’s stupid?”

“Because I’m not sorry.”

“Okay. I hear that. Tell me why you got angry.”

“Derik was making fun of me.”

“What was he saying that made you mad?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I don’t remember,” he muttered.

“I think you do.” Simone waited until Obi-Wan looked at her again. “It’s all right to tell me.”

The boy bit his lip, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Maybe I could write it down. But you can’t show anybody.”

Simone nodded, handing him a datapad. The boy continued biting his lip as he typed, his small fingers fumbling over the keys. Finally he handed the pad back to Simone, who read the response. “Oh. I see.” Her whiskers twitched momentarily as she set the pad in her lap. “Qui-Gon, I think that Obi-Wan and I need to talk for a moment by ourselves. Would you mind waiting outside? I’ll call you back in when we’re ready.”

He turned to his padawan, unsure of the boy’s feelings. “Is that okay with you, Obi-Wan?”

“As long as you’re just outside.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I’m no more than a thought away.” He made his way out of the room, all the while trying to puzzle out what Obi-Wan had written. What could Derik possibly have said that was so bad his own padawan wouldn’t tell him?

He settled his back against the wall, only several meters away from the closed door. Reaching out through the Force, he tried to hear the voices in the room, only to find his attempt was blocked. He wasn’t surprised, as he’d found that most Healer’s rooms were muted through the Force in some way to prevent the emotions within from disturbing those outside.

It seemed oddly disconcerting not to be able to sense anything more than his padawan’s presence nearby. Despite the physical distance between them while he’d been on Was-4, he had been better able to feel through their bond hundred of light years away there than he was standing in the hallway. He wondered if the Force-imposed separation they were experiencing felt strange for Obi-Wan as well.

About half and hour later, the door slid open, and Obi-Wan entered the hallway, his hand in Simone’s. She gave Qui-Gon a slight smile as the secretary met them at the door. “Obi-Wan, I’d like you to meet Jaltran. She’s going to take you across the hall and help you get started on the project we talked about.”

Jaltran reached for Obi-Wan’s hand. “It’s good to meet you. Would you come with me?”

The boy took her hand and followed her into another room before Qui-Gon could say a word. “Qui-Gon? If you would, please.” Simone gestured towards her office.

They resumed their former positions, although Qui-Gon couldn’t help but take a quick look around the room for the datapad. “I think before we all go any further than you and I need to talk a bit, so I can get a better sense of your perspective of what’s going on.” Simone took the same tone of voice she’d used initially with Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon found it quite grating.

“What perspective am I supposed to have? What would you like me to say here, exactly?” Qui-Gon turned his gaze on her. “Obi-Wan’s been getting into fights because he’s growing up. All my friends and I did it at his age; partly the reason we became friends is because we got tired of beating each other up. It’s just a phase, like anything else. He’ll learn how to defend himself in ways that don’t involve fists, because we all do. But I honestly don’t see why he needs a psychological evaluation just because he stood up for himself.”

“It’s funny how if it’s ‘just a phase’ that he’s the only one in his class going through it.”

“Perhaps if you read his chart a little more closely, you would see he’s much younger than all of his classmates. He’s bound to be a little behind them emotionally.”

“That’s something we’ll get to in a minute,” Simone said coolly. “The sort of behavior Obi-Wan is exhibiting isn’t common for his age group. And although some children are naturally more combative than others, what I’ve seen thus far from Obi-Wan is that fighting is not a normal reaction to a negative situation. What we’re seeing here is not Obi-Wan growing up, but Obi-Wan angry about something he’s not willing to discuss.”

Qui-Gon rubbed his palms together as he spoke. “Pardon me if I sound unconvinced, but you’ve only known Obi-Wan for an hour. I’ve known him for years. I’m his Master. What makes you believe that you can understand him better than I can?”

“It’s truly not a matter of understanding, Qui-Gon. Let me ask you this: when you walk into a state room on a planet you’ve never been to, how is it that you can know which faction will react in a certain way? How can you see more clearly as an outsider what they themselves as citizens cannot?” Simone drew a breath, releasing it silently. “It’s all a matter of training, and Force-guided intuition. The same reason they send you on matters of diplomacy is the reason I’m sitting in this room. This is my gift. Now why do you think Obi-Wan is angry?”

He resisted the urge to ask if it was a multiple-choice question. “Who knows? Maybe the cat ate his favorite socks. He’s eight. . .he thinks the world’s ending when we run out of blue juice. Or he can’t stay up to watch The Adventures of Ancu Darmon.”

“I hear that, but I think we’re looking for something a little more long-term.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you think it is, since you obviously seem to have something in mind. Do we have to play the guessing game?” Qui-Gon knew he sounded flip, but he restrained himself from adding ‘good thing we’re not paying you by the hour’ to the end of his statement.

“I’m sorry that you think this is a game, since we’re talking about your padawan’s emotional health.”

“That’s not what I said. You’ve taken what I said out of context to make me sound like a bad master.”

“All right.” He thought she sounded a bit flustered. “Let’s try this a different way.” She handed him the datapad. “Read this.”

Derik said that my master went away on a mission to get away from me, but it’s too bad he’s such a bad jedi and got all those people hurt.

Holding his hand to his forehead, he massaged his temples for a moment. “Well, that’s just perfect then. He won’t stand up for himself, but he’ll stand up for his forty-year old master who doesn’t need it.”

“Are you surprised? You’re the center of his world. He has a very difficult time making friends, and you’re his one constant, except you haven’t been very constant lately.”

Qui-Gon rose to his feet, leaning heavily on his chair. “There are some things that can’t be helped. I don’t want to leave Obi-Wan. It doesn’t bring me some secret joy to leave him here by himself. The hardest thing a master can do is leave his padawan behind, but sometimes it has to be done. This was done out of necessity, not preference.” Pushing away from the chair, he moved several steps towards the shaded window of the room. “It’s not as if I haven’t explained this numerous times to numerous people. I went because I had to go, because no one else would have been able to—“

“That’s really not what this is about right at this moment.” Simone held up a paw, shaking her head. “I’ve read the files, I know you did what needed to be done. I’m not arguing that point. What I am saying is that you’ve explained this to everyone but Obi-Wan. He doesn’t even know what happened. All he knows is you went to this planet to save your friend, you came back injured and didn’t want to see him, and now you and your friends aren’t speaking. The people you’ve known longer than Obi-Wan has been alive are not in your good graces, and he’s no longer sure of his place.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Not exactly. Because he doesn’t really even know how to put all those feelings into words right now. But from what I can see, from what I know of the situation, and what he told me, this is what’s going on.”

“So basically, you’re guessing?”

She stood, holding the datapad to her chest. “Look. I’m aware that you’ve been through counseling before and you hated every second of it. You gave the right answers and pretended to listen and fulfilled only what was required. However, your comfort is really not my concern. I am a children’s counselor, and we involve the master only whenever it’s deemed necessary. That’s why you’re here. If you don’t want to come to the next session, that’s fine, but you need to tell Obi-Wan why you won’t. This, if you can believe it, is not about you.

“You need to make a decision. Are we going to continue with this, or are you going to let your padawan do this on his own, which is the way he’s been coping for the last two months?”

“You make it sound as if I’ve gone on oblivious to my padawan’s well-being, as if we don’t share a bond at all. If you think that I haven’t tried. . .that I have let all this go unnoticed, then you are sadly mistaken.”

“Then fine. Show me. Show me that you care. Show me this is important. Do this thing that you hate because you know that it’s good for him.”

Several moments passed before Qui-Gon said a word. “What do you want me to do?”

“Two things. I want you to go home, and start keeping a journal of the things we’ve talked about. Say whatever you want. Write that I’m a miserable beast of a woman and you’d prefer it if my head exploded. The second thing I want you to do is write a letter to Obi-Wan, but not as he is now. Write a letter to him for the day before he’s knighted, and tell him what the last fifteen years have been like, for what you hope they’ll be like. You’re the only one who’s going to see this, so make it truthful. Think of the good things along with the bad. And then take it and put it away. And come back tomorrow ready to help Obi-Wan become that knight.”

***

“How do Jedi say good night? Do they stomp their boots and put up a fight? Do they flash their lightsabers on and off when I turn off the lights? Do they hide under their robes and pretend to be mice? Do they scream and shout and act not at all nice? No! Jedi crawl under their covers until they’re just right, they close their eyes and say good night.”

“I don’t like that story. I want a longer story. I want chapter books. Ones with chapters, where interesting things happen. Not stories about going to bed. I do that in real life, and it’s not fun. I don’t need to hear about it.”

“You know I won’t be reading a whole chapter book every night. We’ll go a chapter at a time. Sometimes you won’t know what’s going to happen next. But we’ll do that if you want.”

“It would be better than a story about Jedi going to bed. Those stories are stu—they’re dumb. That’s a story for babies.”

Qui-Gon laughed, reaching over to ruffle his padawan’s hair, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do it for much longer without a protest. “Good night, Obi-Wan.”

He was halfway out the door before he heard a small voice say, “Master? Could you turn on my fish light?”

***

Dear Obi-Wan,

Qui-Gon paused, feeling rather silly. How was he supposed to write a letter to an adult Obi-Wan when his padawan had just asked him for a night light? This is a ridiculous assignment, he thought.

What can I say? It’s been a long fifteen years, so long sometimes I can’t believe they’ve passed at all.

He stopped, chuckling to himself. His humor was definitely underrated.

I guess I’m older now, but I’m sure I can still beat you at sparring, at least some of the time. I remember the first time you defeated me in practice. It was so unexpected. . .something every teacher strives for, and yet we’re surprised every time. I knew teaching you how to do backflips was a bad idea…

It was like the first time we got in an argument over procedure. We were on a mission, and you were certain you had a better way of handling things than I did. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised, considering you’ve had me as master, and have learned how to defy authority from the man who wrote the book on the subject. In spite of my shock, it was then that I knew we would get to where we are today, with you ready to be on your own. It’s hard for me to imagine you that way, even though I know you’re ready. We’ve spent so much time together during the past years that I want to share in your adventures. I want to be at your side—not as your master to keep you safe, but as a fellow Jedi, and as a friend.

It still surprises me sometimes that Alla doesn’t mind hanging out with me. . .with any luck you’ll still feel the same way, despite the mountains and valleys we’ve undoubtedly crossed. At least you’ll have Kerge and Slade to listen to when you decide not to take my advice anymore, since they’ve actually turned out to be fine, competent Jedi, in spite of their masters.

If there’s one thing I hope you take with you on your journeys, it’s this: never look down the barrel of your lightsaber and then turn it on. It always ends badly.

Also, don’t forget that if you ever need help, and we all do, that I’ll always come for you.

I must thank you for all the gray hairs you’ve given me, and there are many. But each one was worth it, because the Republic is a little bit safer with you as a Jedi. And the Council is a little more shaken up, for which I am immensely grateful.

Good luck on your journeys, and Forcespeed. Tomorrow when I cut your padawan braid, it changes your status in name only because you’ve been a knight in your heart for years.

-end part 1-