A Second Childhood

Summary: Ahsoka, just can't mind her own business. When she figures out how little of a childhood Ezra had she decides to give it back to him. She de-ages him into an infant for Hera and Kanan to raise up again. Only problem: Ezra still has all his memories.

Prolog: Mind your own business

POV: Ezra

I had just gotten out of an intense session of training with Kanan and thought it best to rest up in the lounge. There was only one other person in the lounge. Ahsoka Tano, previously known as Fulcrum, who just joined the crew.

I sometimes wondered if she was Fulcrum, or Specter 7, not that it really mattered.

"Hey," I greeted as I sat down next to her.

"Hello," she returned his greeting. "You look worn out."

"Just finished some training with Kanan," I explained. "It can be pretty tiring."

"I bet, I remember some of my training with my master." Ahsoka reminisced, but I didn't bother to push the topic further, knowing she probably wouldn't want to talk about it.

"So, what made you join the rebellion?" I asked.

"I was one of the people who started it. I remembered the Republic and I wanted it back." Ahsoka responded. "What about you?"

"Kanan offered to train me as a Jedi after I got mixed up with them on a mission." I explained.

"What do your parents think of this?" Ahsoka asked.

I flinched, I didn't want to think about my past, or my parents, but I told her anyways. "My parents are dead. The Empire took them away when I was seven."

"What?" Ahsoka seemed to be in shock. "Why?"

"They spoke out against the Empire. I lived by myself on the streets. Stealing to survive. That is, until the crew found me." I finished with a small smile.

"Not much of a childhood." Ahsoka muttered.

"Well, you just have to take whatever life throws at you." I said.

"What if you could have another childhood?" Ahsoka asked.

I laughed, "How? That's impossible."

"Not entirely" Ahsoka responded.

"What do you mean?" I asked, severally confused.

"I could give you a second childhood." Ahsoka offered.

"How, it's not like you can turn me into a child." I joked.

Ahsoka lack of a response told me that she could.

"Now, Ahsoka, you mind your own business." I said.

"You won't even remember that this happened. You will have no memories of anything up till this point. It is a total fresh start." Ahsoka tried to convince me. It wasn't working.

"No, I don't want to be turned into a child. I'll be useless." I argued. "Who would look after me anyways?"

"Why, Kanan and Hera of course." Ahsoka answered.

"The answer is still no Ahsoka." I said, moving to get up. Only to find that I couldn't.

"Sorry, Ezra, but I'm not giving you a choice." Ahsoka said.

"Ahsoka, stop messing around." I said. "Let me up."

I felt dizzy all of the sudden, and I couldn't think straight. My last clear thought before I blacked out was, 'how is Kanan going to react.'

When I came to, who knows how long later the world seemed different. Everything seemed bigger and blurry. I seemed to be buried in cloth with just my head sticking out.

"That worked out better than I thought," a voice I recognized as Ahsoka's said. But where was the former Jedi rebel?

I got my answer when a moment later when two orange hands moved the cloth I realized to be my jumpsuit and pick me up. And the hands, which I presumed were Ahsoka's, picked me up, without any difficulty. Which was strange, considering that I was fifteen and she was, I don't, late twenties, early thirties.

I took me exactly one second to realize that she had pulled me right out of my clothes and I was now currently naked.

"Ahsoka what are you doing?" I asked, but that is now what came out. What came out of my mouth sounded like baby babble.

'She wouldn't,' I thought. 'I told her not to. She wouldn't turn me into a…into a,'

"You are such a cute baby." Ahsoka said in a cooing manner.

'Oh hell no! This was not happening!' Ahsoka had totally gone against my wishes and turned me into a baby anyways! But she said I would have no memory of anything that happened to me before, but I did. I had all my memories, of my parents, of the crew, of my life on the streets.

I was frustrated. A part of me wanted to cry, knowing it was the only real way to let out my frustrations, but another part of me didn't want to start acting like the baby body my teenaged mind was currently trapped in. The first part won.

Well, tell me what you think. Should I continue to pursue this story, or not bother with it. Let me know what you think.