Disclaimer: Although I love Star Wars, that doesn't mean I don't own Star Wars. Although I'm a fan of money, that doesn't mean I'm making money off this story.

A/N: Original completion date: 1/1/10. Geez, I even write on New Year's Day? The inspiration for this bitty fic comes from the lyrics in that cool Weird Al Yankovic song, "The Saga Begins." "Did you know this junkyard slave isn't even old enough to shave..." Kind of weird, I know. But fun to write. And hopefully, fun to read. But you can tell me that yourself when you . . . review! See how I dropped that one in there?

Rated K+ for mention of blood. Don't worry; it's benign.

Obi-Wan's Incorrect Presumption

"Master."

Qui-Gon Jinn looked up from the sleep-couch where he had been resting and received an unpleasant surprise: his Padawan's lip was bleeding. How he had managed to cut himself Qui-Gon didn't know, but since he could see that Obi-Wan was waiting to speak, he swung his legs down onto the floor and stood.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?" he replied, keeping his curiosity out of his voice.

Obi-Wan kept eye contact while he spoke, even though his face had gone red. "I was trying to use a vibro-razor." His voice was quiet, but steady. "I didn't realize how sharp the blades are. I cut myself."

Any other Padawan might have gone to the healers for bacta, a treatment which would completely heal a minor cut like this within a few minutes. The healers wouldn't ask unnecessary questions, so the Master would never know. But not Obi-Wan. Instead, he hid nothing, and chose to come straight to his Master and confess his mistake. It was just one of the many qualities about him that made Qui-Gon proud to be his Master.

Qui-Gon nodded once, walked over to the shelf high up on the wall, and took down a medpac. He strode back and squatted down before his apprentice. Pulling out a cloth, he wiped the blood away, then dabbed disinfecting liquid on the incision. Lastly, he applied a small bacta patch to the wound.

The work was passable, Qui-Gon thought, as he sat back on his heels to scrutinize his Padawan. Not as smooth as the Jedi healers, of course, but it would do. Obi-Wan had averted his gaze and seemed to be waiting for something. Qui-Gon thought he could guess what.

"Do you expect me to scold you, Padawan?" he guessed. Obi-Wan bowed his head.

"Yes, Master," he mumbled.

"Then you will have to wait a very long time," Qui-Gon told him cheerfully while pushing himself to his feet. "Because I don't plan on it."

Taken aback, Obi-Wan looked up at him. "But Master, I was wrong," he pointed out. It was always right and wrong with Obi-Wan. While Qui-Gon himself tended to see all aspects of an issue, the many layers that made it hard to discover a problem's solution, Obi-Wan saw things clearly. Starkly. Everything was separate and easy to distinguish—right and wrong, good and evil, correct and incorrect. Sometimes Qui-Gon wished he could see with the same clarity. But at other times, he was obliged to show his apprentice that circumstances were not always what they seemed, and things were not always as simple as the first glance. This was one of those times.

"What were you wrong about, Obi-Wan?" he prodded his Padawan. Obi-Wan looked up at him, perplexed by the question yet determined to answer it right.

"I didn't know how to use the vibro-razor. I should have come to you first. If I had, I wouldn't have cut myself," he listed the reasons.

"The vibro-razor must be used carefully, or it can prove somewhat hazardous," Qui-Gon conceded. "But you didn't know that at the time." He watched Obi-Wan blink and struggle to digest this new way of thinking. "I don't expect you to predict every aspect of danger and move to prevent it, Obi-Wan," he continued gently. "It is not against the Jedi code to make mistakes." Obi-Wan nodded slowly in understanding. Good—now there was only one thing left to do. "Padawan," Qui-Gon said, leading Obi-Wan over to the nearby reflector, "shall I show you how to use a vibro-razor?"

***The End***