Chapter Text
Obi-Wan woke up to the Force feeling immensely pleased with itself, which was never a good omen. He had a bad feeling about this.
The Force had been feeling suspicious for the last few standard rotations, building with tension like a rubber band waiting to snap, or to be sent flying at some poor unsuspecting soul. He had briefly consulted a few other Jedi on it, Master Yoda and Mace had told him simply that meditate on it, he should, or that he’s finally going Sith-spitting mad from sleep deprivation, respectfully. (Mace was a hypocrite, if his use of expletives was any indicator.) Anakin had agreed with him that the Force was hinting that something was on its way, but even the Chosen One couldn’t quite grasp what it was.
Obi-Wan couldn’t place it, either, despite how it had been escalating his perpetual headache and been insisting its infuriating presence be known. Something was coming, and he didn’t like it. Master Jinn would have said whatever comes, it’s the will of the Force, and probably chastise him for getting so worked up about it.
Ah. There was a red flag. Amongst all the chaos in the war against the Separatists; battles, campaigns, negotiations and warfare non-stop, he hadn’t thought about his old Master in a very long time. Why was he thinking about him now?
So now the tension was gone, and in its wake the Force was practically preening with pride. There is a job that needs to be done, the Force said to him clearly, without the use of words. All will be returned to as it was before when the job is done.
What a lovely, ominous start to the day.
His half-asleep trailing thoughts were interrupted with the shrill tone of his alarm- his second alarm, he realised with a start. He didn’t usually sleep long enough to be woken by his first alarm, instinctively rousing himself by force of habit and getting some extra work done before the day’s schedule starts up. Those were the nights he bothered to sleep at all, at least. But he had virtually collapsed into his cot last night, and he had slept in too, apparently. Wonderful.
He would be late to his meeting with Commander Cody now, probably- he’d have to skip breakfast to get there on time. That was fine.
He flailed out one hand in an attempt to silence the alarm, and frowned when his arm did not respond in the way he expected. All his muscles felt like they had been sent through a trash compactor. His whole body felt very very wrong. In a moment of alarm, he sat up and swung himself off his bed, crashing to his knees when the floor was rather a lot further away from the edge of the bed than he expected.
Well, this was quite the development, he thought ruefully to himself, staring at his small, bruised fingers that peeked out from pooling, too-long sleeves.
The alarm was still beeping, and it put him on edge. He went to reach for it again but tripped over the trailing end of his trouser leg and ended back on the floor again, his shoulder colliding painfully against the corner of the desk. His ears were ringing. His vision swam. He groped at the surface of his desk, knocking aside datapads and flimsi sheets, not trusting his balance to try standing yet. The beeping was still going, and his heart thumped hard. His hand finally met the holo-chrono but his small, uncooperating fingers couldn’t hit the off button.
He hurled it against the opposite wall, and the beeping stopped. He was breathing fast and erratic, on the verge of hyperventilating, he realised, so he tucked himself under the desk until his back met the wall and he put his head between his knees.
It took a very long moment, but with careful counting and with a controlled release of emotions into the Force, Obi-Wan managed to regain his composure enough to take stock of the situation properly. He felt a vague tug on his old Master-Padawan Bond with Anakin, a quick ‘You okay?’ from the other end. He sent back a quick wave of reassurance, before bringing up his mental Shields, hard.
Pulling himself out from under the desk that wouldn't have harboured him in such a way last night, he used the table-top to pull himself upright, pleased when his knees didn’t buckle, and he managed to adjust to the change in balance. He only came up to the desk as far as his chest, which was the first indicator of the issue. His whole room seemed far bigger than the last time he had seen it. He examined his hands properly, taking stock of pale fingers that were much smaller than they ought to be, mottled with bruises, burns and split knuckles. He probed at his hair, feeling short locks, grown shabbily out of a classic Padawan cut, yet with the tell-tale absence of a Padawan braid.
There was a mirror in the ‘fresher attached to his quarters, and Obi-Wan shuffled in that direction, scuffling over the hanging tunic-legs and attempting to roll up his sleeves as he went. There was a small mirror on the back of the ‘fresher’s sliding door and he stood on his tip-toes to look into it.
The face that looked back at him confirmed his suspicions. Young, absent of beard, with a rounded jaw too gaunt for any lingering baby-fat. An old, half-healed split cut through his bottom lip. There were dark circles under bright blue eyes.
If anyone was going to be randomly turned into a pre-teen overnight, naturally it would be him. For some reason, Obi-Wan realised he wasn’t even surprised anymore.
The Force snickered.
x+x+x
The logical order of business, now that he knew the what was to find out the how which might just lead to the why. Infuriatingly, he had a feeling that the latter two had somewhat the same answer; this elusive job that the Force wanted him to do. What that might be, he hadn’t the faintest.
Finding out if this had ever happened before was naturally the next step. Ideally, how it had previously happened, and how it had un-happened. When it came to the Force, the Archives in the Coruscant Jedi Temple were the place to look, but getting there would rely on him exiting his quarters, going all the way to his vessel the Negotiator’s bridge, and giving orders for her to be turned around back to Coruscant which was a very long way away, rather than continuing on to their assigned campaign-destination on an outer-rim Separatist-occupied planet. Currently, talking to anyone in this state, even one of his Clone troopers, was something he would rather avoid. If he could fix it by himself, he would do so, and nobody would be any the wiser. He specifically did not allow himself to listen to any opinion the Force had on that plan, ignoring how unusually vocal it was being.
There were some Archive files he could access remotely (there seemed to be at least a few perks to being a Jedi Council Member,) and he spent a good long while at his desk, feet not reaching the floor, scrolling on his datapad through an overload of completely irrelevant information. As far as random acts of the Force went, he couldn’t find anything about anyone’s physical age regressing by a decade-and-a-half.
If he couldn’t go to the Archives, Obi-Wan sighed to himself, he would just ask the walking, talking version instead. It had been a while since he had a chat with Jocasta Nu.
Obi-Wan retrieved the cracked holo-projector from the floor, wincing at the fractured lens and smacking it against the heel of his palm until it came back to life. The beeping resumed, delighted in its resurrection and determined to go back to making Obi-Wan’s day additionally unpleasant. He stabbed the off-button hard enough to break the machine again. The holo declared it was 6:42 AM Corscanti-time, and he hoped he wasn’t waking the older woman by calling. Desperate times and all that.
He kept his audio and video decidedly off.
She picked up quickly, which in all honesty didn’t surprise Obi-Wan that much.
“Master Kenobi, always a delight.” Madame Nu’s blue holo form bowed. He typed his response.
[Likewise, Madame Nu. I apologise for calling at such an hour, but I am in rather urgent need of your assistance.]
“Of course. Why is your video off? Is everything alright?”
[Yes, just a broken transmitter.]
A half-truth. She paused, expression unreadable.
“If you say so. Well, what can I do for you?”
[I’m looking for any information on a very specific hypothetical topic; random acts of the Force. Potentially ones that might alter oneself physically.]
“Of course, that’s not suspicious at all.”
[I assure you, everything is alright on my end. As I said; hypothetical.]
“Sure. Well…. There are some examples of this, undoubtedly, though you would have to be more specific in what you’re looking for.”
She paused, waiting. He didn’t take the bait. She continued, and Obi-Wan saw her brow twitch in a way that would be an exasperated eye-roll on anyone else.
“There are some reports on vaguely similar topics, Force-given miracles such as the Force miraculously generating a child without conception, or old legends of Jedi spirits lingering after death with minorly altered forms from when they were living. I cannot think of anything else off the top of my head, but I can research and send through any information that may be useful to you?”
[Please. Thank-you, Madame Nu.]
“Anything for a friend. As long as you assure me you are okay; I cannot help but be suspicious, especially with your reputation of trouble.”
[Trouble? Me?]
[I appreciate the concern, but everything is fine. You needn’t be worried. Thank-you again for your help.]
“Anytime, Master Kenobi.” Then she hung up.
Obi-Wan sighed hard. He had a feeling the Archives would be a dead-end, no matter how hard Madame Nu searched.
There was a solid knock on the door a good while later, startling Obi-Wan from where he was attempting to modify his robes into something that wouldn’t hang off his slim frame as much, through a combination of tying and tearing of fabric.
Obi-Wan knew who it was immediately, alerted to the presence that he really should have noticed coming down the hall. It was Commander Cody, sun-bright in the Force as always, rippling with carefully controlled concern.
“General?” Cody called, muffled by the durasteel door. “Are you awake?”
Ah, Force. Cody would probably override the lock if he didn’t get an answer, but Obi-Wan certainly didn’t want to involve Cody in this if he could avoid it. Scrambling for a response, he replied, lowering his voice as far as he could in an imitation of a thirty-seven-year-old’s.
“Yes, thank-you.” It sounded comically stupid. What was he doing?
Obi-Wan could feel the commander’s frown through the door even without the Force. Curse Cody and his innate sense of knowing when there was something wrong with his General. “I figured I’d let you sleep in, when you didn’t show up to the briefing. Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine, I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” This was a terrible idea.
“I’ll call a medic-”
“No, no! That’s not necessary, everything’s fine.” his voice cracked, betraying him. Curse it all.
“General.” Cody was not stupid. Obi-Wan could feel the worry and suspicion rolling off him in waves. “If you don’t give me a valid reason not to right now, I’m coming in.”
“You don’t need to do that, Cody.” Of course his famed ‘silver tongue’ had to leave him at the worst possible time.
“I’m sorry, sir, but if you’re ill or otherwise, you’re not in the position to be giving out orders.” The code-panel on the wall outside the door was beeping as Cody punched in the override.
Blast.
With no time nor means to hide, Obi-Wan pressed himself to the wall, watching Cody carefully as the door hissed open to reveal his Commander, clad in his -battle-worn, yet- polished plastoid armour, sans helmet. He looked stressed, as he always did these days. At first, the Commander’s gaze swept the room, undoubtedly noticing the uncharacteristically unmade bed and the deplorable state of the room, as well as the distinct lack of a General Kenobi.
His gaze then landed on the kid next to him.
“Ah, kriff. Don’t tell me the Jetti have pulled another Commander Tano situation.” Cody sighed. “Where’s your Master, kid?”
Obi-Wan blanched. Cody thought he was Obi-Wan’s own surprise Padawan? “I’m not a kid, at least I wasn’t last night-”
“You’re a Shiny.” Cody wasn't looking at him, looking for clues around the room for the apparent location of his ‘missing’ General. Naturally, he found nothing. “Listen, Commander. I don’t know what you’re doing here…” he frowned again, taking in the ‘kid’s’ modified robes and dishevelled, bruised appearance. “...but I need to see the General, now.”
Obi-Wan sighed, relenting. “It’s me.”
Cody huffed. “You’re a little ways off being a General just yet. And I’m a Marshall Commander, I still outrank you. And with that rank, I have the responsibility to protect my General, and I don’t appreciate not knowing his location. If you know where General Kenobi is, you will tell me now. That is an order.”
“Dammit, Kote, it’s me.”
That got the Commander’s attention. He stopped, looking critically at the child in front of him. Cody’s expression was completely neutral. For someone who wasn’t Force-sensitive, Cody had excellent instinctive Shields. There was silence for a very, very long moment.
“I apologise, General.” Cody said, very slowly. “I didn’t recognise you without the beard.” Then he turned on his heels and marched back out the door. Obi-Wan watched him go, before cursing under his breath and running after him.
Cody didn’t look at Obi-Wan as he caught up, having to half-jog to keep up with Cody’s far longer stride. “What are you doing?”
“Getting a medic.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
“You can tell me that when you’ve returned to your correct age, sir.”
Obi-Wan sighed hard. As per usual, Cody didn’t ask any questions. He already had already been told just about as much as Obi-Wan knew; that he simply woke up like this- and in Cody-fashion, he knew that he would receive an explanation when it became relevant. Obi-Wan couldn't have been more grateful for that, now.
They passed a few other Clones in the halls, and Obi-Wan addressed them by name in greeting as if nothing was amiss. Cody nodded to them. He watched them falter in their steps down the hall, turning to watch them go in utter confusion.
When they reached Medical, it was thankfully empty. With no conflict for several weeks, any injured had been since discharged. Flim, the 212th’s CMO, was there anyway, as per usual. He seemed to be going through reports or such, turning to see Cody walk inside.
“Oh no, what happened to the General now?” Flim sighed. Wow, rude. He wasn’t that bad. Okay, maybe Flim was a little right. Despite escaping it whenever he could, Obi-Wan had spent altogether too much time in Medical over the past few years of the war.
Cody just waved a vague hand at the child beside him.
Flim choked.
“I’m not paid enough for this,” He drawled, monotone.
“We aren’t paid at all, vod.”
“Ne’johaa.”
What proceeded was a full medical checkup, much to Obi-Wan’s extreme annoyance. It was over three hours later that Flim cleared him to leave, despite him being begrudging about it. Fim was relatively laid-back like that, at least outwardly. Through the Force, Obi-Wan could hear him panicking internally, almost perpetually. His fault? Probably.
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Flim asked, bedside-manner an ingrained habit- or a facade.
He was going to regret this. “Of course, Flim.”
“For a kid, you’re entirely karked, sir.”
Obi-Wan sighed.
The following report was a long one. Deplorable levels of malnourishment, clear signs of insomnia, (that was nothing new,) faded scarring on his neck, bruised ribs that Obi-Wan hadn’t even noticed, and a plethora of minor (blaster) burns.
“...even signs of untreated minor internal bleeding, sir! If you don’t mind me asking, what the kriff happened?”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, a look perfected even as a child.
Flim huffed. “Aside from the obvious.”
Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to shrug. “Not sure. Must have tripped.”
The Look that Cody and Flim shared over the top of his head was expressionless but simultaneously incredibly expressive. Their General clearly didn't want to elaborate on the origin or extent of his injuries, (also as usual,) but the excuse of not-knowing due to being de-aged by many years was not exactly one they could fault.
It was another half-truth. Obi-Wan wasn’t necessarily certain about the origin of his injuries, but he was beginning to have a sinking suspicion. That was definitely something that was off-limits for anyone else to learn. His past was his alone. Nobody else needed to know about it.
Good luck with that, the Force seemed to say. Obi-Wan scowled.
Flim relented to let him leave, after having his cuts treated, ribs wrapped, and consuming a significantly smaller handful of painkillers than he was used to. Now they were leaving Medical, with Flim radiating a building headache in the Force, and Obi-Wan with absolutely no idea what to do now. Thankfully, yet awfully, he didn’t have to wonder for long, as Cody’s comm pinged with an incoming transmission.
“Hello hello, this is the General Inspection Team with a surprise visit, requesting permission to board the Negotiator?”
Cody huffed in amusement. “Permission granted.” Obi-Wan groaned, internally. Cody continued. “How’d you get here so fast, Rex?”
“Call came through from the Jetti’alor’e, something about Force-osik with General Kenobi. They wanted the closest other Jetti to bring a second opinion.”
Wherever the Negotiator was, the Resolute was never too far behind.
(Or more accurately; the other way around, with the Negotiator trying to keep up.)
Obi-Wan groaned outwardly this time, which made Cody stifle a chuckle. Obi-Wan pulled out his own comm, (which had not had a transmission regarding this visit, he noticed,) and texted Madame Nu.
[Snitch.]
Her immediate reply: [😎]
It was an altogether too-short amount of time before the two of them were in the hangar with the 501st’s three Commanding Officers descending off the shuttle’s ramp. Obi-Wan briefly considered potentially running, or finding a crawlspace in the air-vents that probably fit him now, or maybe just chucking himself out the airlock. Was he hiding behind Cody, just a little? Maybe. Would he perish before admitting it? Absolutely.
Anakin was leading the trio as per usual, all causal swagger and confidence, his Force signature betraying him with a touch of concern under his perfected façade. He was tugging on their Bond, likely attempting to remotely figure out where Obi-Wan was, or what was wrong. Obi-Wan carefully ignored him.
“Hey, vod!” Captain Rex called out over the closing distance between the two parties. Ahsoka waved. She had one hand on one of her Lightsaber hilts. Nervous, likely.
“Cody, my man.” Anakin clapped him on the pauldron. “How've you been?”
“Just another standard day in the 212th, General.”
Anakin snickered. “Well, where is the di’kut?”
“Right, that." As if there was anything else they were here about. “How much do you know?”
“The Council didn’t tell us much, but I’m not sure if they know much. We just heard that Obi-Wan called Madame Nu regarding something about transformation by the Force? Whatever that means- which probably means something happened to him.”
“Do you know if something did?” Ahsoka piped up. “Have you seen him? Is he okay?”
“For the most part.”
“Don’t get cryptic on me now, Commander.” Anakin said it with humour, but there was a serious look in his eyes. “Where’s Kenobi?”
Cody sighed, crossing his arms, and simply stepped to the side.
“Well, I’m sure you find this terribly amusing,” Obi-Wan sniped. Even if they reversed this somehow, Anakin would never let him live it down.
Rex’s jaw dropped. Ahsoka gasped, almost looking delighted. Anakin clapped his gloved hand over his mouth a little too late to stifle his bark of laughter. Obi-Wan sighed.