Work Text:
~ 1 ~
27
11
As Mace strode down the corridor, he realized that his hand was in his pocket again, clenched around the box.
He probably should have meditated that morning, in order to address the emotions swirling in his head. His mental shielding was holding, but it was a little frayed at the edges in a way that made the passing Jedi around him a little frayed as well, if they weren't paying attention to their own shields. He already had a few younger Knights shy away while passing him, which he felt guilty about.
But he hadn't had time to meditate – he'd somehow slept through his alarm, and only had time to dash out and collect the box before making his way here.
So, yeah. Frayed shields and frayed nerves.
He turned the corner and the Initiate dorms came into sight. He checked his comm for the time, then slowed his frantic pace, realizing he was 3 minutes early.
(Good thing he'd skipped breakfast. Grabbing something would have made him late.)
He slowed to a smooth walk. Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to release the box as he came to a stop at the door. He took another breath, stretched his cramping fingers, straightened his shoulders, refused to stall anymore, and knocked.
When an unfamiliar Creche Master opened the door, Mace's stomach plummeted. He'd been hoping for Master Irvok, who had finally, grudgingly, approved. And if he couldn't have Irvok, he'd take Master Vov'ael, who was forgivably annoying, simply because she was so old she treated everyone under the age of 50 like an initiate.
The Master smiled at him, curious. "Yes?"
He bowed, and made sure his face was inoffensively blank. "I'm Knight Windu," Mace said. "I'm here for Initiate Billaba."
There. Nice, professional, and to the point.
The Master blinked, then looked him over, frowning. "Oh, you're Windu?" she asked, in a tone of voice that Mace was becoming intimately familiar with. And then the frown eased, and to his horror she began to look concerned. "Are you-" she began, and Mace found himself interrupting.
"Is Depa ready? I want to be certain we aren't late."
The Master frowned at his rudeness, but Mace was past caring. The concerned ones were always the worst, and whatever she'd intended to say, he'd certainly heard some variation of it in the last month.
"Wait here," she said firmly, and shut the door in his face.
Mace closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the annoyance fade. He turned away, and sat down on the bench across the corridor from the door.
Once he'd settled himself, however, he found that his hand had slipped into his pocket again, fingers tight around the box.
As much as he'd shored up his unflappable mask, practiced his casual responses in his head, balanced himself on the line between steady and stubborn, and deflected any and all protests, it wasn't easy to let the comments go.
A month ago, he'd announced his decision to take on his first padawan, and he hadn't known peace since.
It had started, of course, with the Council. They had been insultingly surprised when he'd announced his intentions to take Initiate Billaba on as his padawan. Even Master Yoda had looked uncertain.
It had been... suggested that he was not ready for this. He was too young, too brash, too... stern, he thought that one Jedi Master had tried to say. He couldn't be sure, because it had been 20 minutes before the man had been direct about it, instead of hemming and hawing about the nature of the Force and how it flowed through the training salle they were in, and by that point Mace had been barely listening.
Mace knew their concerns were valid. He was... well, he knew how he was, and how he was perceived. But couldn't they see how much he cared about getting this right?
It was hard to believe that it had been only 6 months since he'd first met Depa. One of the lightsaber instructors had asked him to perform a demonstration of his new lightsaber form Vapaad to several groups of initiates, including Depa’s clan. After all the time he and Depa had spent together since then, it felt like he'd known her for much longer.
If someone had told him a year ago that he would now be exerting all his effort for the chance to train an 11-year-old for the next ten (or more! Ten or more!) years of his life, he would have refused to believe them, so he supposed he could understand their concerns.
It was just, after the 12th or 13th iteration, those concerns began to grow a little old.
He took a breath, and tried to focus on the people who thought he could do this. Master Irvok, after all, had come around, although it had only happened in the last few weeks, and he been supervising Mace's visits to Depa for almost 5 months. And even then, it was only grudgingly.
...Master Irvok was, probably, not the best example to focus on right now.
Master Saa had realized what was happening almost before Mace had. Her visits to the Temple were infrequent, but Mace and her tried to keep in touch. Two months after he'd met Depa, on his monthly comm call with her, she'd abruptly said, "I've got another mission, but when I'm done, I'm coming back to meet your future padawan."
Mace stared at her. He'd only just, in the last week, begun to consider Depa and padawan in the same sentence.
At his silence, Master Saa had tipped her head in confusion, a few flowers swaying with the motion. "You are thinking about taking her on, right? You light up when you mention her."
And then Mace had realized he might have, possibly, been talking about Depa a bit too much on this comm call.
...And maybe during last month's comm call, too.
"I... maybe?" he'd said, helplessly. "I need to talk to her about it."
"Don't put it off too long, Mace," Master Saa had said. "I think you'd be good for her, and she sounds like she'd be good for you too."
And that had been that. The next time Master Saa called, Mace had been able to tell her that Depa and him were discussing it.
"Sounds like she's got a good head on her shoulders, then," she'd said. "This mission should be done in about a week. I'd be delighted to meet her when I get back."
"We'll make it work," Mace had said, smiling. "I think she'll like you."
Master Myr had also not seen a problem with the match, not even batting an eye when he'd let her know Depa and him were talking about it. After the Council's reaction, he came to Master Myr to express his frustration, and her only response had been a snort.
"If they didn't know you were planning to take on darling Depa, then their gossip networks are lagging," she'd said. "I knew it was going to happen 4 months ago, when she came up to us in the cafeteria to ask you the differences and similarities between Vapaad and Makashi."
As touched as he was by Master Myr's faith in him, Mace had felt this was a bit of an exaggeration. "That was the second time I'd ever seen her," he'd said flatly. "You absolutely did not clock it then."
Master Myr had winked at him. "Trust me, Mace. When you get to be my age, you start getting a sense for these things, and then you back up your instincts with information from your contacts." She scowled. "Which is why the Council's gossip networks are clearly behind. Most of the Council is my age, or older. They should know better."
"I'm... not sure Council members have gossip networks," Mace said. He knew Master Myr did, but it'd been long enough since his padawanship under her that he'd realized that having a gossip network wasn't typical for a Jedi Master.
(Even if both of his Masters happened to have them. Two completely different Jedi who happened to both train Mace was not a large enough sample size.)
"If they don't, they should," Master Myr had said, and the conversation had moved on.
Even with Master Saa and Master Myr as his staunch supporters, it was hard to shut out all the criticism. He'd been asked to stay in the Temple while the Council considered his request, and the Temple had never felt more stifling.
The number of Jedi who deemed it necessary to give him advice on this was... truly staggering.
To add insult to injury, Mace knew that the month the Council had taken to consider his declaration wasn’t typical. When Master Myr had declared that she would take him as a padawan, it had been only a week before it had been approved. And when Master Saa had taken over his apprenticeship, it had taken about 2 weeks, simply because the request was so unusual. A month for a declaration for a brand new padawan was unheard of.
At first, he'd endured the wait patiently. This was his first padawan, after all. He didn't want the Council to make any hasty decisions. But as the wait dragged into two weeks, and then three, it had started to grate.
He knew that 27 was a little young to be taking on a padawan. It might, possibly, be the youngest anyone had taken a padawan on. (He refused to check the Archives. Some things were better left unknown, and why in the stars above would he confirm something that would only make him more nervous?)
But... he rubbed his thumb over the wooden box in his pocket, then released it once more.
...This was for Depa. And Depa was worth it.
They were going to figure it out, him and Depa. Together. And if it didn't work...
Mace closed his eyes, and followed the thought, painful as it was.
...If it didn't work. If Depa got tired of him, or decided he was really as scary as her fellow Initiates seemed to think, then Mace would make sure someone took her on, like Master Myr had done when he was transferred over to Master Saa's tutelage.
It had been for a different reason, of course, but it didn't mean that Mace wouldn't do the same for Depa. She was going to be a wonderful Jedi, and Mace was determined to help her reach her goals no matter what.
He could do this. They would figure it out. The rest was just... nerves.
He heard the door open. Mace took a deep breath, and opened his eyes.
At first glance, Depa looked calm. The frowning Creche Master was behind her, but Depa didn't look back. She was dressed in a nice set of initiate robes, and carried a small pack over her shoulder – the rest of her things, Mace guessed. After the ceremony, they would be moving into new rooms together.
Mace thought, ruefully, that she looked far more ready for this than he was. But then his eyes caught on Depa's hands, which were gripping her pack tightly, knuckles pale.
He wasn't the only one having last minute jitters, he supposed.
He knew he should do something. Smile, maybe? But the Master behind Depa was boring a hole into him with her gaze, and he couldn't manage to let his blank mask go, so he just gave Depa a nod. "Ready?"
She smiled, and skipped over to stand in front of him. "I'm ready!"
"I have... something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket. He carefully drew out the small box, passing it into Depa's outstretched hands.
It was only now, once the unremarkable wooden box was in her possession, that he realized he probably should have wrapped it.
...Not that he knew how to wrap things. He should have at least tied a ribbon around the thing, or something.
Depa's eyes shone. She carefully found the silver clasp and raised the lid, and then froze, eyes wide. The purple and green bead caught the light, the colors swirling together like a sparkling galaxy. She raised her head and looked at him, eyes still wide.
Mace found himself speaking. "I know they provide a bead during the ceremony today, but I thought you might- I mean, you said your favorite colors were purple and green, so-" he snapped his mouth shut, acutely aware that he was rambling. He took a breath, and tried again. "Master Chandra recommended a few Chalactan stores, and I thought you'd like it."
There. That was clear enough.
But.
But Depa still hadn't said anything.
Maybe it was the wrong color or something – she'd told him, very seriously, that purple was her second favorite color but only the purple that was, like blue underneath, not red – or at least Mace thought that's what she'd said, and he didn't understand it entirely but he thought he'd gotten a blueish purple, but what if it wasn't right? Well, if it wasn't right then she'd probably tell him because she'd never been scared to voice her opinion to him before, but she still hadn't said anything so maybe-
Oh. She was hugging him.
It was a little awkward – she was much shorter than him, even when he was sitting – but Mace had been leaning towards her, so she'd managed to get an arm wrapped around his neck. Her other arm was squeezing his rib cage so hard it was a struggle to breathe. Or maybe he couldn't breathe due to whatever had suddenly appeared in his throat.
Definitely an awkward hug, but – not a BAD hug. He took a breath in carefully, making sure it didn't shudder, and raised his arms to hug her back.
They might, Mace thought, just make it through this.
And if they didn't... well, they would figure that out too.
~ 2 ~
30
14
"You're going to run into someone," Mace said, voice stern. "This isn't the Temple; people can't just sense you're there."
Depa grinned at him, glanced behind her at the crowded, rain-soaked street, and then hopped up on a low wall. "How's this? Now I'm out of the crowd."
She did not, Mace noted. stop walking backwards. And now she was doing so while two feet off the ground. "You're going to get hurt."
"No, I've got it," she said, concentrating on her feet. It was an impressive effort - she lasted about 15 seconds before Mace felt a whisper of warning in the Force. She stumbled, and Mace took two quick steps and caught her arm before she fell off the edge.
"Oops," Depa said.
She didn't sound all that sorry.
Mace sighed. "If you insist on doing that," Mace said, "then wait a few weeks until you get used to your new height."
"Growth spurts are illogical," Depa said. She hopped down from the wall and resumed walking next to him, to Mace's relief. "Why don't we just grow at a steady pace, the way we do literally the rest of the time?"
"Ask your Bio Studies teacher when we get home," Mace said. They joined a busier street, this one with a ceiling above it, which was a short reprieve from the rain.
"Uh, hard pass," Depa said, shaking some of the water off her robes. "If I did, she'd just make us do a project on it. I'm not that curious. What are we looking for, anyway?"
"Well," Mace said, "Jabiim City is more dangerous than-"
"Than the other places we've been to for missions, yes, I know. You told me a hundred times already."
"A hundred, huh?" Mace said, amused. "Then why don't you tell me the rest of what I said?"
Depa groaned.
"If I've said it a hundred times, then you should know it," Mace prompted.
Depa sighed loudly, as if this was some great inconvenience, but obeyed. "I'm supposed to keep within 15 feet of you at all times, except for when you tell me to stay put." She gave him a glare, and added, "Because you'll be doing something too dangerous for me to go along with you, and you can-" heavy sarcasm coated the rest of her sentence "-take care of yourself."
"If it was too dangerous for me to take care of on my own, then they wouldn't have sent a Master and Padawan to complete the mission," Mace said.
Mace knew that a single Knight could complete this mission on their own, based on the information packet he received for the mission. It was not unlike some missions he'd taken in the years just after his knighting. He and Depa had graduated from relief efforts and simple cargo runs at the beginning of their apprenticeship, and were now beginning to take on harder missions.
(Mace had heard some Masters and Knights call those first padawan missions "milk runs." It was a little tacky, so Mace didn't use the term himself, but he could understand where it came from.)
"I don't think this mission will mean we have to split up," Mace continued, "but I want to make sure you know the rules. Speaking of, the last one?"
Depa grumbled.
Mace waited patiently, scanning the street.
Finally, Depa said, "If anyone tries to grab me, I'm supposed to run back to the Foriben1, and I shouldn't use my lightsaber unless it's a last resort."
"Good job," Mace said. "Thank you."
Depa sighed loudly, but Mace felt her slip her hand into his. "So what do the rules have to do with whatever we're looking for?"
"Well, we're looking – ah, here we are," Mace said, and strode into a side street. There were out in the rain again, but he hoped it would be only for a moment. He scanned the signs hanging above several doors, and slipped into a small store, Depa at his side.
The door made a chime as they entered, and Mace glanced around the quiet place, pulling off his hood. The room was filled with stacks and stacks of display cases, made of transparisteel if Mace had to guess. Hand sized weapons of all shaped and sizes lay inside the cases, glittering in the light.
"Hello! Can I help you?" a young woman said, looking up from behind a counter.
"Yes, please," Mace said. "I'm Windu, and this is Depa."
Depa waved, because she was polite to strangers, but her eyes were wide as she glanced around the room, a hint of a smile on her face.
"We're looking for a small weapon that Depa could easily keep on her person," Mace continued. "With a sheath as well, if possible."
Depa's head snapped towards Mace, and she yanked on his robes, because he was not a stranger. "I'm finally getting a knife?" she hissed.
"If that's what you pick, yes," Mace said. "I want you to have... options, if you need to defend yourself."
Mace watched Depa realize he meant fighting without her lightsaber.
She grinned at him, and he felt a shiver of dread as she said, "So, stabbing someone is not a last resort?"
"Consider it a second-to-last resort," Mace said hastily.
"Well, if you're looking for something discreet," said the amused storekeeper, "we have many weapons that can be safely hidden. We have knives, of course, Miss Depa. But if you're not completely set on a knife, we have other options as well."
"We'll see," Depa said, tone businesslike. "What do you have?"
In the end, Depa was right. A knife fit her perfectly.
~ 3 ~
49
33
It had been a busy several months for the Order, which is why Depa was out on a mission when she received her official promotion to the Council.
It was unusual to promote someone over holocall, but several Council members had been requested for missions, and so the Council had decided to promote her while those Council members were still all on Coruscant.
Depa had accepted her position with grace and dignity, and Mace couldn't be prouder. 33 was the youngest anyone had ever been promoted to the Jedi High Council, a fact that Mace had absolutely checked, because he needed the bragging rights.
(If Mace had to hear one more time about how Dooku had brokered a peace treaty between two centuries-long warring factions when he was only 22 years old, he was going to find something to hit Yoda or himself over the head with.)
The day after her promotion, Depa messaged him to say she would be back on Coruscant in a few days. Unfortunately, he had to respond that he would be off on his own mission to Kuat by the time she got back.
Which meant that when Depa called him partway through his mission a few days later, he had a pretty good idea what she was calling about.
"You jerk," she said.
Mace raised an eyebrow. "If you don't want me in your rooms, then you should set a better passcode," he said. "Countess Y'vanna's birthday? Really?"
"You're one to talk!" she exclaimed. "You haven't changed your passcode the entire time I've known you!"
Mace chose to ignore this accusation. "Did you want space ice cream slurry? I could have left it outside your rooms instead, and let it melt for two days."
"I suppose not," Depa said, sighing. "And you probably shouldn't have left the knife and the chocolates outside my room either."
Mace raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah, some of my packages have gone missing,” Depa said, “and I don't know where they've ended up."
"Someone on your floor is stealing packages," Mace said flatly. "How... unbecoming of a Jedi."
"No," Depa said.
"No, what?" Mace said.
"Leave it alone, Mace," Depa said firmly. "I'm dealing with it."
"...Very well," he said. He would let it go.
For now.
...If there was still a problem in a few months, he'd fix it.
Depa was still eyeing him suspiciously, so he added pointedly, "Congratulations on your promotion."
She sighed, and gave up. "Thank you for the presents, Mace."
"You're welcome. Was that so hard? I feel like it took forever to get to this part of the call."
"You're still a jerk."
Mace chose to ignore this as well. "Also, now that you are officially on the Council, I have this to say." He paused just long enough to be annoying, then said solemnly, "Welcome to the madhouse."
Depa snorted. "The Council isn't that bad," she said.
Mace stared solemnly at her.
Depa kept grinning. "You can't fool me. Making dire pronouncements is your idea of a joke."
Mace continued to stare at her.
Depa's smile began to fade. "You are joking," she said. "...Right?"
"Last month," Mace said, "we heard an hour-long presentation from the Training and Dueling Committee about new training mats for Salles 1-8."
"Okay..." Depa said. "That's not unusual, right?"
"It's not," Mace conceded, pleased that Depa had picked up on some things about his position on the Council. At least she wasn’t starting from scratch, like he had. "It was an expenditure beyond the current budget, and the High Council has final say on those things."
"Yeah, that's what I figured," Depa said. "So what-"
"After the Training and Dueling Committee left," Mace said, "the Council spent two hours debating the expenditure, and then we spent another hour arguing about the color of the mats."
"...I mean..." Depa started, but Mace could see it was beginning to sink in.
"The main color options were burgundy and navy," Mace said, "and I listened to Masters Gallia and Poof argue with each other for 15 minutes about the effects of warm and cool colors, and how those colors would affect the people training in those salles."
"Why did I agree to this position," Depa said faintly.
"Too late now, dear," Mace said. "Next meeting is scheduled for…” he pretended to consult his calendar, “tomorrow, and unfortunately I will be too busy to attend. Have fun! And if you don't, then you at least have chocolate and ice cream to deal with it."
There was something very satisfying about hanging up on Depa's horrified face.
The next day, he checked local time, made a few calculations, and messaged her.
It’s not always as bad as that.
that’s a TERRIBLE consolation
Mace smirked.
also why are u texting me
if you’re too busy for this meeting
that is happening RIGHT NOW btw
then you should be too busy to TEXT ME
MW has set their comm to DO NOT DISTURB
I HATE YOU
MW is typing…
do not send me that yoda meme about hate again
Don’t you DARE
DB has set their comm to DO NOT DISTURB
Mace smirked again.
Worth it.
~ 4 ~
61
45
"There you are," Depa called as Mace ducked into the store. "You're late."
"I apologize for my tardiness," Mace said dryly, surveying the chaotic scene. Depa was examining several different scarves, tossing one of them back into the overflowing bin. Another bin had also been ransacked, this one with hats and gloves, and there were scattered mittens and headbands in haphazard piles around them.
Caleb looked up from an armful of coats. When he met Mace's eyes, he tried to nod, bow, and smile all at once, and nearly lost the whole pile to the floor.
The kid had been skittish every time they interacted. Admittedly, it had only been three times – Depa had claimed him two months ago. Mace's current tactic (ignore his nervousness until it went away) had yet to bear fruit, but Mace remained hopeful. Mace gave him a quick nod, and continued towards Depa. "My troop carriers were delayed for a few hours. You know how it is."
"Ugh, don't I," Depa said. "Hurry up and wait, and then you're six hours late. Military protocol is such a pain. Master, which one?" She held up two scarves.
Aside from color – one green, one brown – Mace honestly couldn't tell the difference. Still he took the scarves and examined them, stretching them out.
"What's the average temperature on Mygeeto?" he asked, frowning.
"Rarely above freezing," Depa said. "Most residential locations are underground, but intelligence says that the Seps are targeting above ground factories, so we'll be freezing our fingers off."
"The brown one is thicker," Mace said, "but maybe you should get both, just in case. I think the green one is some kind of wool, which should keep you warm." He paused. "Will the troopers be warm enough? Do they have supplies for cold climates?"
"Commander Grey tells me their underarmor is thermo-regulated," Depa said. "I made sure to request replacements, in case a lot of troopers-" her voice faltered a moment, then she continued briskly, "-in case we sustain damage, or the thermo-regulation starts to wear thin. I also requested extra heaters for base camp, but it's anyone's guess when-" she waved a hand, exasperated.
"When the supplies will come through," Mace finished. He focused on the green scarf in his hands, and carefully didn't draw attention to the way she'd faltered.
It had been 4 months since Haruun Kal. Mace knew the loss of her entire battalion still haunted her and her Commanders. Mace hadn't met this Grievous yet, but once he did, he was going to make sure the separatist general never harmed a clone or Jedi again.
"You'd think the rations were handpicked on one end of the galaxy and vacuum sealed on the other end, they take so long to get to us," Depa muttered. "Caleb, here. Try this scarf on." She thrust a reddish-orange scarf into his arms, and added, "Did you find some gloves? You need at least two pairs."
"Yeah," Caleb said. "I got them. Um. I don't know if this scarf is going to work."
They looked at him, and Mace carefully didn't smirk. Something about the red and orange of the scarf clashed terribly with Caleb's complexion. He looked like one of those coral reef shoals on Mon Cala.
"It looks fine to me," Depa said.
Caleb stared at her.
Don't laugh, Mace. Don't laugh.
"It'll be a good indicator for frostbite," Depa said. "When your cheeks are as red as the scarf," her lips twitched, "we'll know it's time to get you inside."
"I look like a meliroon!" Caleb said, and Depa burst out laughing.
Taking pity on him, Mace offered the green scarf still in his hands. "Try this one instead."
Caleb, exasperated, grabbed it with a "Thanks" that quickly turned into, "I mean, uh, Master Windu. Sir."
...This kid.
Over the next hour, Caleb did loosen up a little. Mace suspected, however, that it was only due to sheer bafflement at the Jedi he was now calling Master.
"Why is she doing that?" Caleb asked, staring at Depa.
Mace sighed. "Because she exists to make my life harder."
"And how has she not run into anyone yet?" Caleb continued, bewildered.
Depa, casually walking backwards through the crowded streets, winked at him. "Practice, my dear padawan," she said. "Want to learn?"
"No he doesn't," Mace said. "Not in this crowd, anyway."
Caleb shot them both a dubious look. "I'm not sure I want to learn at all. Are- are you using the Force to dodge everyone?"
"Like I said," Depa replied. "Practice."
Mace sighed. After Depa had perfected using the Force to keep track of her surroundings specifically so that she could walk backwards through crowds, Mace had given up. It wasn't worth it.
Besides, it was good to see her happy. Mace knew that part of it was an act for Caleb, but there was a lightness to her that wasn't faked.
Mace had been in the middle of the Ryloth Campaign when Depa's battalian had been slaughtered by Grievous. By the time the news had reached him, she'd already been sent back to the Temple for medical treatment.
When he had finally managed to get a hold of her – his first two comm calls had gone unanswered – she had looked wrecked. Her explanation of what happened was horrifying, and Mace had no other comfort to give than to quietly sit with her while she grieved.
But now, four months later, Depa's face glowed, and this was because of Caleb.
Depa and Caleb had met while she was still recuperating in the Temple. They had made a connection, but Depa held off on claiming him until the day before he turned 14.
The battlefield was no place for children, but the Senate had tied their hands most effectively. If Caleb wasn't claimed by Depa, he would be sent to another battlefield position.
The bill the Senate voted on had very specific terminology, and that terminology did not consider Jedi as children. If Mace ever found out which Senator had written that "Jedi 14 and older must be assigned to Masters in active duty," he would try to induce remorse. Forcefully.
The news would have a field day with the Master of the Jedi Order menacing a random senator, so it was probably a good thing he didn't know.
...Probably.
No time to worry about it now. As Depa explained her theory of Walking Backwards ("The practice allows us to trust more fully in the Force, my dear padawan"), Mace scanned the streets for a likely place to eat, then checked his comm for the time.
In... just over an hour, everything would be refueled and refitted on their ships, and they would be due back at the landing pad. And then they would be on their separate ways. Again.
Depa was due on Mygeeto to aid in the recent continuation of hostilities, and Mace was stationed on Ryloth again, continuing to keep it out of Separatist hands.2
It had been a lot of finagling to get this time with Depa and her new padawan. Mace wanted to make the most of it.
"See anywhere you want to eat?" he called out to Depa. Caleb jerked, like he'd forgotten Mace was there. Mace ignored it.
"I'm not sure," Depa said. "Caleb? Where do you want to go?"
"Uh," Caleb squeaked, then cleared his throat. "Well... what price range are we looking for?"
"Don't worry about it," Mace said. "It's my treat."
"No, no, no," Depa said, wagging her finger at him. You already paid for our winter clothes. I'm not letting you pay for this too."
Mace hummed.
"Master. Master, are you listening? I need a verbal agreement here."
"I'm feeling like karipap3," Mace said. "What do you think, Caleb?"
"Uh, sure?" Caleb said, shooting Depa a concerned look as her tone grew more strident.
"Master, I'm buying. Please acknowledge what I’m say- ooh, karipap? Yesss. Let's find some," Depa said, grabbing Caleb's arm and hauling him off.
When Mace paid the street vendor before she could, Depa griped about it the whole rest of the time, until they parted ways at the landing pad. Caleb had been hiding giggles behind his hand, which Mace considered a success.
Mace didn't see them in person again until over 6 months later.
~ 5 ~
50 (again)
34
Mace ducked into the shop and breathed in the familiar scent of oil, letting his eyes adjust.
"Master Windu! Welcome!"
"Hello, Joleshe," Mace said, smiling. "It's good to see you."
"You as well!" Joleshe said. He hurried across the crowded shop, effortlessly avoiding all the odds and ends, and hopped up onto a table so he was eye level with Mace. "It feels like forever since you've stepped foot in my shop!"
"Yes, I agree," Mace said, keeping his smile fixed.
Komoth Joleshe kept a shop in the Bindai District. He'd set up this shop on Coruscant after traveling the galaxy, and he sold just about everything. What brought Mace back time and time again was that, if Joleshe didn't have what you needed, he could get it for you. It was a big galaxy, but Joleshe was a businessman with a lot of connections.
Sometime during the war, Joleshe had packed up shop and returned home to avoid the fighting. Coruscant kept getting invaded, while the planet of Bimm had been left mostly untouched during the war. He'd left a message for Mace and Depa, wishing them well.
"What can I get for you?" Joleshe said, interrupting his thoughts.
"I'm interested in what knives you might have in stock," Mace said.
"Oh, a present for Depa? A bit soon for her birthday."
Joleshe had a sharp mind for names and dates, Mace recalled. He’d never seen him forget a name of anyone he’d been introduced to.
"Not exactly," Mace said. When Joleshe raised an eyebrow, he admitted, "I have some groveling to do."
"Oh ho, an apology present!" Joleshe crowed. "On a scale of 1-10, how big of an apology do we need?"
Mace considered. Dropping Skywalker on Depa so they could blow up the control ship together: not good. Changing the plans and not killing Maul: not as bad, but the mess they had to clean up because of this decision was pretty terrible.
"Let's say a 7," he said.
"Ouch," Joleshe grinned. "Let's make it a good knife then." He waved for Mace to follow.
Later, when Mace presented the knife to Depa, she grinned with joy and kissed his cheek.
"Am I forgiven, then?" he asked.
"Of course," she said. "But I'm leaving you to clean up my next mess."
"Fair enough," Mace said.
Skywalker's eyes were glued to the knife. "Can I see?"
Depa glanced at Mace, then held the knife out. "Careful. It's sharp."
Skywalker held it with a level of reverence Mace didn't know this excitable kid was capable of. If only he was this careful and still during meditation.
But wishes and horses, and all that.
When Skywalker handed the knife back, he turned to Mace, bouncing on his toes. "When can I get one?"
Mace was caught off guard. Somehow, the idea of Skywalker with a knife was way more terrifying than Depa. "Uh-"
"When you're 14," Depa said. "That's when I got my first one, after all."
"Yes," Mace said firmly. "When you're 14."
That was a whole five years away. Skywalker would probably be a little less excitable then.
But then, Mace had met Knight Skywalker, age 19, so probably not.
...Maybe Skywalker would forget about this. Five years was a long time, after all.
Mace noticed, with rising dread, that Depa was smirking at him.
...He supposed five years was enough time to get used to the idea of Anakin Skywalker with a knife. If he didn't get one for him, Depa would.
~ +1 ~
[redacted]
[redacted]
Mace strode down the corridor, leaving the Halls of Healing for the first time in... two weeks, he thought. He was tired, and was wearing several-days-old robes, and desperate to get back to his own quarters. He was going to have to take it easy, and not move too quickly, but he felt far better.
Yesterday, when Depa had brought Anakin around, she'd noticed that the get well card they’d bought him had been opened. The teasing had been nearly unbearable, but he'd endured it, mainly for Anakin's shy smile when Mace thanked him for the card. They'd promised to take the card and the get well presents he received back to his rooms, and then made plans to meet up for lunch today.
Depa had been taking care of Anakin ever since they'd returned to the Temple. They'd made plans to meet up for lunch today.
Which meant, Mace thought, picking up his pace, that he had the morning to himself.
It was going to be a good day.
The sun shone brightly into his living room. He crossed the room and opened a window, and enjoyed the cool breeze that swirled in.
Leaving the window, he wandered over to the kitchenette and checked his cupboards. He smiled, and grabbed the box of his favorite local tea. Depa must have restocked for him.
He turned the kettle on, and grabbed a mug. Leaning against the counter for a moment, he checked his comm for messages.
He hadn't received any messages from Anakin's teachers in the past two weeks. Perhaps they had been sensitive to the fact that he'd had a hole in his shoulder, and decided to wait until he was feeling better to start complaining again. Whatever the case, he didn't currently have any messages from them, so Mace decided not to look a gift eopie in the mouth.
Palpatine hadn't contacted him in over two months. Mace felt both relieved and nervous about the prolonged silence.
The kettle squealed, and he turned it off and poured himself a cup. He dropped a bag in to steep, then considered himself. He'd taken a shower at the Healers, but had to put on old robes. It was high time he put on something clean.
When Mace opened the closet, it took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. He stared, carefully flipped through the new additions, stared some more, and shut the closet again.
Then he banged his forehead against the closet door.
So much for his good day.
...Well, Mace thought. That would be why Depa smirked when she said she forgot to grab new robes for him.
The numerous jokes Depa had made in the last two weeks had been fully expected, once he'd been conscious enough to appreciate them.
It was, after all, one thing to call Anakin "kid." That was common. Mace had been doing that from day one of their apprenticeship. But it was quite another to, in the middle of a very stressful mission, call him "my kid" at a rather loud volume, which...
Well. Mace had done that. So.
Depa had thought it hilarious, and had proceeded accordingly. Jokes about parenting, fatherhood, motherhood, abounded. She also made a teasing comment that the reason he took Anakin as his padawan was because he was experiencing something called "empty nest syndrome," which Mace didn't fully understand.
So he was probably justified in assuming that the card was the punchline. The "Get Well Soon Dad!" card that Depa helped Anakin make. It was certainly crazy enough.
Mace should have known that wouldn't be the end of it.
He banged his forehead one more time. Then he took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and opened the door again.
Hanging in his closet, next to his very comfortable and sensible robes, were three black t-shirts, those mass produced ones with tacky jokes.The first one read, in big block letters, "I'm not the STEP DAD, I'm the DAD that STEPPED UP." Below the words, an outline of a Kel Dor adult and child were high-fiving.
He grimaced, and flipped to the next one. In a mash up of white cursive and yellow block letters, it proclaimed, "PARDON ME, busy being a single PARENT. I don't have time for your DRAMA."
Okay, Mace conceded that one was a little funny.
He flipped to the last one, which had pink letters that said, "PARENTING STYLE: Somewhere between No Don't Do That and SURE, WHY NOT."
Mace wasn't smiling. He wasn't smiling, and he certainly wasn't considering wearing one.
They were all his size. Of course they were; Depa didn't do anything in half-measures.
He wasn't going to wear one. He was on the Council. If he did, then everyone would think he'd gone round the bend even more than they already did.
He wasn't going to put one on. Not even just in his quarters.
He wasn't.
When Depa caught sight of a black collar just visible under his regular robes, her face was priceless.
"I can't believe you're wearing one!" she hissed.
"I had a vision," Mace started, only to duck as she tried to hit him.
"Shut up, you did not!" she screeched right next to his ear, ow-
Oh. She was hugging him.
...He really got out of practice during the war, didn’t he. Mace closed his eyes, and hugged her back.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said, voice muffled into his shoulder.
4 more t-shirts, in increasingly terrible font, arrived in his closet over the next month.