Chapter Text
In the last few hours, Obi-Wan felt that something was not quite right. It wasn’t the pain in his bones, much less that strange feeling in his chest. This was something different. The Force felt different.
It’s just another false omen, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Your mind in the present, padawan; not in the past, much less in the future, was the teaching his Master said, the one he repeated often. After all, Qui-Gon had said it: he was still stubborn.
It wasn’t hard to know what to do about this; he just… just needed to concentrate. He had been definitely in more problematic situations. Why would this be different? He found a solution before; he would do it now… he would have to do it in the future.
Obi-Wan sighed, feeling how that same anxious Force behaved even stranger. Kriff… Was he the only one who noticed? The warm waves, then cold; loving, though grieved; calming, almost to the point of sleep. Overwhelming, that’s how he would describe it; overwhelmed, by something that had to do with him. Why did the Force behave like this if he felt fine?
“Obi-Wan, did you go back to that habit?” asked a voice that sounded distant.
Surprised, he slowly looked at the guilty hand, almost as if it didn’t belong to him. That was a good question, Obi-Wan also thought that he had gotten rid of his habit of biting his nails. “How is the Queen Amidala?” instead asked while ignoring the warnings of the Force.
Qui-Gon observed him, with that look he knew so well. Narrowing his eyes, suspicion etched in the small gestures. Trying to be discreet, Obi-Wan strengthened his shields. The last thing he needed was an interrogation.
“Fine,” he said slowly. “She’s with her handmaidens.”
“And Anakin?”
Qui-Gon smiled a little, though tired. Obi-Wan’s chest hurt more.
“With the pilots.” He let out a slight sigh. “Maybe you should sleep; there’s still time before we land.”
“I will,” he lied. As if he could ever rest.
The frown deepened with that answer. “Obi-Wan… is everything alright?”
Kriff. Of course, everything was fine. Apart from the Force going crazy, why wouldn’t it be?
“Yes, just… I'm a little more tired than usual.”
Qui-Gon observed him, still narrowing his eyes. When he was younger, his Master used to look at him like that often; like the time he said he hadn't stayed up that late, or when he pretended he hadn’t gotten sick. Obi-Wan remembered it very well.
“Fine,” Qui-Gon finally said. “I’ll be with Anakin in the navigation room.” He paused, pondering his words. “Padawan, you must rest; a difficult battle is approaching.”
Padawan, was all he heard.
“So it will be, Master.”
It wouldn’t be long before he stopped being one.
Everything is fine, he kept repeating.
The Force kept stirring.
Suddenly, strangely, he began to feel a hint of sleep.
As Qui-Gon Jinn attempted to extend his hand through the Force, he once again felt that unsettling disturbance, like the sorrow of a mother cradling her troubled child. Yes… that was a good word to describe it, cradling, because —indeed— the Force seemed to be humming something. About an hour ago, it was a distant sound, little more than a murmur, humming a melody he had not heard in a long time. Now, the skin on his neck prickled with each whisper in his ear.
That explained why Obi-Wan was so nervous. Qui-Gon should have assumed that his padawan would be the first to feel the disturbance. He, invariably, noticed the changes in the Force and, in his old-fashioned manner, was prone to becoming anxious over the slightest discordant response. However, the way he reacted this time was —to say the least— unusual. It wasn’t his exhaustion, his vacant gaze, or his classic avoidant behavior. In his features, in the almost permanent tiredness, in his padawan bitting his nails, there was something he couldn’t quite describe... like if he was seeing an image of the past.
A whimper. Qui-Gon shivered. The lullaby was stronger. Quickly, he focused his gaze on Anakin; he was talking with the pilots. The Force was present in the boy, that was beyond doubt; likewise, it always seemed more sentient in his presence. The tingling in his hands when he saw him racing on Tatooine, the warmth radiating as he hugged his mother, the shelter the Force provided when he left her side… and Qui-Gon could go on listing examples until they arrived at Naboo. Perhaps the Force was speaking through him again. It was the most logical explanation after all, but… there had to be something more.
“Anakin, can you come here for a moment?” he said, interrupting his conversation.
The boy showed no opposition, although confusion was reflected in his eyes. Qui-Gon crouched down to be closer to his height and placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the nervousness.
“Hey Ani, it’s nothing bad. I just… just want to ask you. Is everything alright?”
Anakin lowered his gaze slightly, thoughtful. Another whimper. It seemed the kid had felt it too.
“I feel fine, but… the Force is being weird. Do you hear it too?”
“What do you mean?” the man said, trying to see if they were hearing the same thing.
He reflected for a moment. “It’s like… it’s singing.”
Well, at least Qui-Gon knew he wasn’t going crazy.
“You’re right, Anakin. The Force doesn’t usually act like this.”
The boy frowned. “Why is the Force singing?”
“Obi-Wan,” warned a voice in the back of his mind.
He felt their bond twist.
The Force moaned again.
“I don’t know,” Qui-Gon shook his head. “Why don’t you stay with the pilots, Ani? I’ll come back when I have answers.”
Obi-Wan? he wondered. He left his side, feeling the murmurs continue to grow. Suddenly, the image came back again, along with the question.
First of all, why the memory felt familiar? Why at this precise moment?
Obi-Wan used to constantly bite his nails; a habit Qui-Gon always found disgusting, which he overcame with large and difficult meditation sessions. He was young, about 21 years old when he did it the most. On every mission, on every planet, and even more in The Jedi Temple he had to correct him. With more dark circles, but less tired, he tried to obey; his gaze was colorful almost all the time, and sad when he believed no one was seeing him; stubborn as always, as well as insecure. A vivid memory of his constant nervousness.
An image so familiar now.
A memory that he had seen a few minutes ago.
Oh, Force.
Another whimper and another stab went through his temple. Qui-Gon hastened his pace. He should have noticed it earlier. Could that be happening? He crossed the ship, caring little for the looks he received. “Obi-Wan” kept whispering in his mind. Their bond felt wrong. Suddenly, the memory of what had happened so many years ago came back. Would he lose him too?
Then, he arrived at the main room, where his padawan was supposed to be; the room that was empty.
Something was wrong. His presence, though faint, was there. The Force, slightly less restless, told him he was in the right place. Qui-Gon walked cautiously across the room, guiding himself, focusing. It led him to the table. He extended his hand again, hesitant about what he would find. Continuing with the same mood swings The Force had been showing lately, this time it felt… pleased? Like a mother who had managed to put her child to sleep. Unfortunately, a metaphor that was too accurate.
At the table to which it had guided him, lying in the seat and covered by a large cloak, an extremely familiar child was waking up. In his signature, of course, Qui-Gon noticed the unmistakable presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Obi-Wan felt dizzy; that was all he could say. A deep insinuation of the Force had been binding him for what seemed like an eternity. He tried to open his eyes; darkness continued to swallow him. Something was wrong. It calmed him, with a concern he had never felt in it before. He kept falling into distant memories.
“Be calm,” a voice that blended among them repeated.
How was it possible for the Force to have such a clear voice?
Amidst all the nonsense, there was a moment when he lost total consciousness, leaving only the faint thought that he was still alive. On the brink of that idea, he heard it too, although he wasn’t sure of the meaning of the words: “Everything will be alright.”
Minutes, hours, years passed; the darkness diminished with a quiet song. He remembered, he didn’t know how, the lullaby that his mother sang; one that seemed, now in the distance, another fantasy. Obi-Wan wanted to feel her calm, her affection; he remembered nothing but her song.
“Everything will be alright.” It kept repeating.
How was this alright?
The lullaby faded, being replaced with… sufficiency, perhaps, and a mix of… this and that; he couldn’t think clearly about anything more right. The words became blurry, the Force was more crystalline; however, it remained calming him… or sheltering him would be a better way to describe it. He was still dizzy, though more confused; strangely, not as scared, although —of course— that was only at the beginning.
As he regained clarity, he became more aware of… everything. His body, his mind, even the connection with the Force… something was truly wrong.
“Obi-Wan?” asked a voice, one he did know.
He breathed deeply, gathering all the strength he didn’t have to force himself to wake up. Tensing his muscles, clinging to a blanket he didn’t remember to have, he suddenly opened his eyes.
Bad idea.
A strange image greeted him. He stifled a groan. The pain behind the eyes forced him to close them again. Despite that, the vertigo continued to attack him.
“Are you okay?” Qui-Gon asked, with a concern he had never known from him.
This must be serious, he thought, but his eyelids refused to open again.
“Don’t force yourself, little one.”
He was fine, he only had to try harder and...
Wait... Little one?
Obi-Wan sat up abruptly.
“Oh, Force…” he complained. He couldn’t keep his eyes open for long. What he had seen had to be unreal. The seat, the table, the room, everything seemed so big. He covered his face with what appeared to be the sleeves of his cloak, because his trembling hands were swallowed by them. He had to be crazy, because this definitely wasn't happening, right?
“Hey, it’s okay, calm down.” Qui-Gon sat next to him. “Breathe.” Obi-Wan felt a hand making circles on his back, a hand also too big. Trying to calm him, as if he was a kid.
Wait. No...
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. This couldn't be.
Was he... Was he a...?
Then, Qui-Gon, his Master, said: “Do you know who I am?”
The supposed adult forced himself, at least, to squint his eyes, trying to show as much indignation as possible. “What kind of question is that?!”
Oh Force, his voice...
“A very appropriate one,” simply said the man who, even sitting, was like three times taller than him.
“Kriff Master, what happened?!”
On Qui-Gon’s face, he could see most of the possible feelings crossing his features. However, his slight smile, hidden by the thick beard, could only mean one thing. “Language,” he first reprimanded, unsurprisingly. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this.”
Obi-Wan sighed, still trembling. “Those are excellent news,” he commented, trying to sound sarcastic; however, he was sure it hadn’t sounded with the intended tone.
“Hey… hey, we’ll figure it out.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, pressing gently.
This was too strange.
“Master, I’m not a child!”
“But you look like one, Obi-Wan; a very small one.”
As much as he wanted to deny it and argue about that, Qui-Gon was right.
He certianly was small, much smaller than Anakin himself maybe. He felt his hair covering his forehead, while trying to ignore that he was drowning in his clothes; his feet were cold, his head kept hurting, and he didn't want to think what it would be like to try to look at Qui-Gon standing up. Also, he didn't want to imagine the image he was giving to him: like if he was a lost loth-cat or something. Perhaps that's why his Master was sending him Calm through the Force...
Someone who shouldn't be doing that.
Obi-Wan sighed deeply, taking strength from the Force. “You know what I mean," said, a little bit calmer. Then added, trying to lighten the mood: “Despite what you want, I'm not going to be in the crèche again. Never."
Then, although he didn’t show it openly, he noticed Qui-Gon holding back his classic chuckle. “I don’t think Master Yoda will accept you with those clothes.
“What, I’m not presentable?”
Then, the long-awaited chuckle made its presence. More relieved than amused, but, after all, a sincere laugh; one that the war didn’t allow very often, one he often missed.
“How do you feel?” the adult said, a bit more serious.
Well, you know, only I'm panicking?
“I look 20 years younger; I think that explains everything,” preferred to respond.
His Master looked at him, with something more than just doubt. “Just that?”
The Force stirred restlessly again.
“Dizziness, pain. What else do you want me to say? That I want to do a tantrum?”
Qui-Gon watched him for a few seconds. He didn’t understand quite the reason. After all, he was telling the truth. Suddenly, the man just exhaled, briefly shaking his head. “We’ll have to talk to Queen Amidala about this, as soon as possible and alone.” He paused, pressing his shoulder again. “Obi-Wan, I promise we’ll fix this.”
He hoped so. “I know,” decided to say instead.
There was no reason to worry Qui-Gon.
Because Obi-Wan had nothing to worry about, right? There had to be a solution for this... most likely.
He was sure about that, as sure as he was fine.