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Okay, Mace had to admit that things were going… fine. Skywalker wasn’t injured and hadn’t injured anyone else, which Mace decided was good enough.
…Granted, he’d only had charge of the kid for 3 hours, so that could change.
Mace continued to walk down the corridor that led to his rooms, Skywalker following behind him.
He was being quiet, which Mace found odd. Between Obi-Wan and Skywalker, Skywalker always seemed the more talkative of the two, even if Obi-Wan was better at smoothing over ruffled feathers.
But then, Mace had only known Skywalker by association with Obi-Wan, and had rarely interacted with him at this age, so maybe the quiet was normal.
Skywalker had acted a little odd about the clothes they had gotten for him from the general supply. But he seemed like he didn’t want to talk, and Mace couldn’t guess what the issue was, so he decided to let it lie. Maybe Skywalker had some clothes that were with Jinn. Mace would have to ask Jinn for them.
…Not tonight. Mace could not deal with that.
After getting clothes, Mace had then started Skywalker’s padawan braid. Mace had decided that it was too late to cut Skywalker’s hair or do anything fancy with it. He just braided a section while reciting the required words, formally declaring Skywalker as his padawan.
Skywalker had been fascinated throughout the process, but the meaning of it all seemed lost on him. Mace’s fumbled explanation didn’t seem to help.
Mace felt a little bad about it. Starting your padawan braid was a special occasion, and the ceremony that came with it was important to both Master and Padawan. Mace could still remember how elated Depa had been when Mace had put her padawan braid in for the first time.
How had Obi-Wan explained it to Skywalker in the last timeline? He had to have done it better than Mace. Obi-Wan had always loved talking about the traditions of the Jedi.
…Or maybe, Mace thought a little grimly, Obi-Wan had not done any better in explaining Jedi traditions, and Skywalker had always felt like an outsider. Which is why it had been so easy for him to go to the Temple and turn his lightsaber on youngl-
Mace shut that thought down hard and stuffed it in his “DO NOT OPEN (NEED 30 MINUTES)” box.
…He probably needed to open that box tonight, once Skywalker was settled. Force knows when he’d have the time once they were on the ship to Naboo, and he needed to be at the top of his game once they reached the planet.
They’d finally reached his rooms. Mace silently thanked his habit of never changing his door lock, and input the passcode.
As soon as he stepped inside, however, he immediately remembered what he’d forgotten to do. “Stars above,” he groaned. Skywalker, who had been making his way past Mace, startled and glanced at him. Mace waved a hand at him and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. “Not- you’re fine. This is on me.”
He only had the one bed in his rooms. It was currently – Mace checked his comm – too late to fix.
He sighed, then turned to Skywalker. “When a Jedi takes on a new padawan, they get new rooms with two bedrooms. I forgot to ask for new rooms.” He beckoned Skywalker to follow him and strode across the room to his bedroom doorway.
He pushed the heavy curtain aside and turned back to Skywalker. “You’ll sleep in my room tonight. We’ll have to ask for new rooms in the morning-” Mace paused, then muttered, “No, we’re leaving for Naboo in the morning. We’ll have to ask when we get back.”
Assuming everything on Naboo goes smoothly, Mace doesn’t mess up, and no one dies.
“Where are you gonna sleep?”
Mace looked down. Skywalker was scowling up at him.
Mace blinked. “What?”
“If this is your room, where are you gonna sleep?” he asked, scowling harder and crossing his arms.
Mace blinked. “I’m… the couch.” He gestured behind them towards the couch they’d passed on the way to the bedroom, then felt stupid for the gesture. “I’ll sleep there.”
Skywalker… is still scowling up at him. “But it’s your bed,” he insists.
Mace squinted at him. “And tonight, it’s your bed.” When this only made Skywalker knit his eyebrows together, Mace sighed. “Yes, it’s my bed, but you’re using it tonight. The couch works just as well as a bed.”
Honestly, he’d probably sleep better on the couch.
When Skywalker didn’t say anything else, just kept glancing into the bedroom and then at Mace’s face, Mace decided to be blunt. “What, exactly, is the issue here?”
Skywalker ducked his head, and Mace couldn’t see his face anymore. “Nothing, Master Windu.”
Mace highly doubted that. But once again, he decided to let it go. He was too tired to figure this out.
He showed Skywalker where the other rooms were just in case – kitchen to the left, ‘fresher to the right – and the important items in each.
There was a moment in the ‘fresher where Mace caught a look on Skywalker’s face that made him pause and ask, “You came from Tatooine, right?” At Skywalker’s hesitant nod, Mace showed him how both sonic and water shower settings worked.
They finished the tour in the bedroom, and Mace was reaching his limit. He needed to not have to worry about Skywalker for an hour, maybe two. “Do you have any questions for me?” he asked, already mapping out the Temple and trying to think of someplace he could be alone.
“…No, Master Windu.”
“Alright, then,” Mace said, relieved. “Get ready for bed and go to sleep. I’ll be gone for a bit, but I’ll be back later.” He glanced down at Skywalker again, who was not scowling, which Mace decided was good enough. “Goodnight, kid.”
Skywalker nodded. “Goodnight, Master Windu.”
Mace nodded back, and then turned and left his rooms- his old rooms, now.
He needed to find a place where he could open that box.
*~* *~* *~* *~*
After a 40-minute crying jag (where he freaked out about… well, everything), he spent half an hour meditating, and then 25 minutes fighting against a couple of training droids with blasters. After a brief shower in the communal ‘freshers, Mace was inputting his code and entering his rooms again.
He hadn’t come to any big conclusions about why he was here, or what he was supposed to do, but he felt more settled, at least. He felt like he might be able to handle whatever was thrown his way.
And then he heard muffled crying coming from his bedroom, and realized that he had no idea how to handle anything.
He slumped onto the couch, listening to the stifled sobs. He had to go in there, he knew, but he had no idea what to say, and the idea of going in there with no plan made him feel a little panicked, which made him feel like a failure, which made him wonder how he ever thought he could train Skywalker in a way that would make things better instead of making them worse-
He breathed in, and then out. He did this for a few more seconds. Then he got up and strode over to his bedroom before he could psych himself out. Again.
As he brushed the curtain aside, Skywalker shot bolt upright, a look of terror skittering across his tear-streaked face. He flung himself onto the floor like the bedsheets were on fire, yelping, “Sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll get off your bed!”
Mace was too bewildered to say anything. It must have shown on his face, because Skywalker’s expression downgraded from terror to apprehension.
“Sorry, Master Windu,” he mumbled.
“Why are you apologizing?” was the only thing Mace could think to say.
“You- you sounded-” Skywalker swallowed. “Mad. And. And I thought you’d changed your mind and was mad at me for- for being in your bed.”
It took a minute for Mace to realize that his determined stride towards the bedroom could have sounded like anger instead. That… made him feel a lot worse. Good job, Mace.
Mace realized that Skywalker was still on the floor, and that the longer Mace stood over him, the closer Skywalker’s face inched towards terror again. Since Mace never wanted to see that expression directed at him ever again, he did the only thing he could think of.
He sat down next to Skywalker on the floor.
Skywalker’s face did something complicated and messy, but he seemed less terrified, so Mace counted it as a win.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Mace began, but was interrupted.
“I wasn’t scared,” Skywalker said loudly, head ducking down so Mace couldn’t see his eyes. Mace raised an eyebrow. After a few moments of pointed silence, Skywalker added, a little quieter, “I was just. I- I didn’t want you to be mad.”
Mace decided not to point out the fear he could still feel clouding the Force. “Okay, then. I’m sorry that I made you feel like I was mad at you. I still want you to sleep here. But I was-” he hesitated, then decided to be honest. “I was worried about you, and I wanted to come talk to you.”
When Skywalker didn’t say anything, just tucked his knees up closer to his chest, Mace added, “Are you okay?” Don’t say anything about crying; he’d probably deny it. What to say instead, what to say, what to say… “You seem… distressed.”
Eh. Good enough.
There was a long silence. Mace was pretty sure he once again wouldn’t get an answer, but he didn’t say anything to fill it. Maybe if he just stayed quiet…
Finally, Skywalker whispered, “I miss my mom.”
Hooo boy. Mace was not equipped for this conversation. But it seemed like Skywalker was willing to continue without input from him. He looked up again, eyes sad.
“I just- I know she told me to not look back. I know that I’m supposed to be a Jedi. But she’s still there on that planet, and I just wish there had been enough to buy her too, but even if there was enough I don’t think Watto would have allowed it, and-”
“I’m sorry,” Mace interrupted. He felt thoroughly lost. “Buy her? What are you talking about?”
Skywalker looked frustrated with Mace’s incomprehension. “Master Qui-Gon bought me from Watto by betting on my podracing,” he said, as if this was old news. Perhaps it was, to him. Mace had a sinking suspicion that Jinn had left a lot out of his mission report. Skywalker was still talking. “-there wasn’t enough to buy Mom, too, and even if there was I know Watto was all in a snit because he’d lost a bet and lost me, too, so he refused to even think of selling Mom.”
The sinking suspicion had turned to ice in his gut. “Let me get this straight. You and your mother are slaves?”
Skywalker’s face went stubborn again. “I’m free now. I’m not a slave anymore!” he nearly shouted, as if daring Mace to contradict him. Mace leaned back and blinked at him, a little startled.
“But Mom still is,” Skywalker continued, less loud, looking away from Mace again. “And I know you n’ the Council said I shouldn’t be afraid of losing her, but even though Watto’s not that terrible, he’s still a slaver. What if he sells her to someone worse? He’s always betting on stupid things and losing money; it’s how Master Qui-Gon got him to give me up.”
Mace decided to cut in here. “Alright. You’re not a slave anymore, but your mom still is. Did Jinn say anything about going back to get your mom?” Mace couldn’t remember Jinn mentioning her to the Council in either timeline, but maybe he’d forgotten it.
“Jinn?”
Mace blinked a few times, then realized the issue. “Master Qui-Gon.”
“Oh.” Skywalker’s brows knit. “No. I asked him if Mom was free too, but he just said there wasn’t enough money, and that Watto refused to sell. And then I knew that meant that Watto was mad, because that’s how he always is when he loses bets, and I bet he jacked up Mom’s price because he was mad.”
Mace was starting to see why Skywalker might have a reason to be crying. Possibly several reasons, actually. “So Jin- sorry, Master Qui-Gon, bought you and set you free, and then left your mother there, and you’re worried that she might get sold while this Watto guy tries to get his money back by gambling.”
“Yeah.” Skywalker slumped down, chin on his knees.
“Okay.” Mace hesitated, then decided to correct an assumption Skywalker seemed to have. “Kid.” Skywalker glanced up. “When we said you shouldn’t be afraid of losing your mother, none of us were aware that she was in slavery and that you were afraid she’d get sold to someone else. Ji- Qui-Gon,” Mace gritted his teeth, “didn’t mention that you had been a slave. The fear thing has more to do with attachment than anything else.”
Skywalker frowned. “What d’you mean?”
Mace could not get into a discussion about Jedi philosophy with this kid right now. It was nearing two in the morning. They were expected to be at the Queen’s ship for departure in just over 8 hours. He could not add another mess to this day. “I’ll explain later. Just. Is there anything else that you think I should know? J-Master Qui-Gon didn’t explain your situation at all.”
There was a moment of silence, while Skywalker searched his face for- something. Gauging his sincerity, maybe? Mace tried to relax his face, since he tended to frown even when he didn’t mean to. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.
“Well…” Skywalker hesitated, glanced at Mace’s face again, and kept going. “I- I think Qui-Gon maybe hasn’t ever freed someone before? Because I don’t think he got the remote for my slave transmitter chip, and-” his breath hitched, “-and I know Tatooine is really far away so it’s probably out of range but what if it’s not and Watto remembers he has the remote and-“ his voice cut off as he buried his face into his knees again.
“I’m sorry,” Mace said, trying to control his temper. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Jinn had - like usual - bulldozed his way through the situation, which made Mace furious. But he didn’t want Skywalker to think he was mad at him.
Again.
‘I haven’t freed anyone before either,” Mace continued. Which wasn’t entirely true, but since he’d never encountered slave chips, he had a feeling that his experience with slavery was more limited than he’d thought. “I don’t know what this… slave chip is, but if it has a remote then you’re definitely not in range anymore.”
Remotes were for short-range things, Mace knew. Anything intended to go longer distances – cross-planet communications, for example - needed an amplifier or something, which was usually bigger than a remote.
Skywalker’s shoulders eased a little at this, so Mace continued. “So, you still have a slave chip?” At Skywalker’s nod, he asked, “What does a slave chip do?”
Skywalker shifted a little, glanced up at him again, and responded. “Well… when a slave becomes free, that’s the first thing you gotta get rid of, or their masters will use the remotes. So you gotta find them, or you might already know where they are, and then you gotta do surgery to get them out.”
“They’re in your body?” Mace asked, appalled.
Skywalker gave him another frustrated look. “Well, yeah. That’s what makes them so dangerous,” he said, as if explaining simple facts about the universe. Planets orbited suns, moons orbited planets, slave owners put slave chips inside people. “I don’t know where mine is. I was trying to make a scanner to find them, but it wasn’t really done yet, so-” he paused, then changed what he was going to say. “Anyway, every slave has got one, I think. Sometimes if the slaves are super expensive, the chip has a range that someone can go, and if they go outside that range, electricity shocks them until they pass out.”
“That’s-” Mace swallowed. “That’s horrifying.”
“But that’s just the expensive slaves, ‘cause those chips are harder to make,” Skywalker explained, matter-of-fact. “So the chips like Mom and I have just explode if the Master thinks the slave is running away.”
There was a moment where the horror just- did not register. Mace could hear the words from the outside, but it was like they weren’t quite real. Then the ice in his gut coalesced into burning nausea, and Mace had to swallow a few times.
“The slave chips are bombs,” Mace said.
“Yeah?”
“And you have one inside you.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve been worried this whole time that your old master was going to remember he had a remote to it and blow-” The words stuck in Mace’s throat.
Skywalker hunched his shoulders defensively. “I wasn’t really worried,” he backtracked. “I know that most things don’t have the range to go from planet to planet. But I. Wasn’t sure if slave remotes were one of them.”
When Mace could only stare at him, Skywalker got defensive again.
“It’s not like anyone lets a slave look at one, so how was I supposed to figure it out myself?” he snapped, glaring, as if Mace was going to scold him for not knowing… or, Mace thought with a chill, punish him for not knowing.
“No, you had no way of figuring it out,” Mace agreed, trying to keep his voice even. He scrubbed his face with both hands, and then abruptly stood up. “Come with me.”
“Where?” Skywalker asked, tilting his head to look up at him.
“Halls of Healing.” Skywalker looked confused at this, so he added, “The Jedi hospital. We’re going to remove your slave chip.”
Skywalker’s eyes went very wide, and he scrambled up. “But- I don’t know where it is in my body?”
“I think the Jedi Healers will have a scanner or two that might help. Come on.” And then Mace strode towards the door again, Skywalker trotting behind.
Once they got out into the halls, Skywalker came up and walked beside him. he looked… much more animated. Like, it wasn’t until all the wariness on Skywalker’s face was gone that Mace realized how much of it had been there, and that it had been there since he’d first seen Skywalker in this timeline.
Now that Mace had an actionable plan about all the horror he’d just heard, he was starting to have more questions. “So, just out of curiosity,” he said, keeping his voice casual (and not at all like the answer would determine just how much trouble Jinn was in), “did you tell Master Qui-Gon about your chip?” Maybe Skywalker assumed that Jinn knew about them?
“Yeah, Mom and I mentioned them,” Skywalker said, confirming all his worst fears. “But he didn’t seem to have heard of them before, so maybe he wasn’t thinking about them when he freed me?” he added, a little too charitable in Mace’s opinion. Stubborn, foolish, idiotic man. The Council was going to hear about this, and Jinn fully deserved whatever sentence they gave him.
“Let’s just get that thing out now,” Mace said tightly, instead of voicing his current thoughts about Jinn.
*~* *~* *~* *~*
Mace rarely acted on his urge to punch people. While satisfying, it usually made whatever he was trying to do much harder. He knew this from experience gained during his teenage years, and it had taken a while to get his temper under control.
Fortunately, he had enough self-control to resist his impulse to punch people, even if he dearly wanted to, so he rarely dwelt on it.
It wasn’t until he was explaining the situation to the Healers that he realized how close he’d been to losing that control. The horrified and alarmed expressions they made at him over Skywalker’s head made him feel better, and let him know that he was justified in his anger. This, paradoxically, calmed him down. By the time Healer Che and her apprentice left to fetch a scanner for Skywalker’s slave chip, Mace was calm enough to realize that if he’d seen Jinn on the way to the Halls of Healing, he might have acted before he even thought about it.
(Maybe Mace could punch Jinn in the nose and say it was the “Will of the Force.” Jinn wouldn’t be able to argue with that without revealing his hypocritical, lying-)
…He apparently had a much quicker trigger these days. That was something he would need to work on. Especially if he ran into Palpatine, because he would probably do something incredibly rash.
Monumentally rash. Insurmountably foolish. Fantastically satisfy- suicidal, fantastically suicidal.
Yeah. He needed to work on that.
So Mace took some deep breaths, and made sure to focus on how the Healers were just as upset as he was, and how Mace had gotten Skywalker to someone who could fix things.
A little while later the Healer apprentice was back, rolling a scanning machine in front of Skywalker. The apprentice introduced himself to Skywalker as Apprentice Gallia, which made Mace wonder if he was related to Adi Gallia. He knew Adi’s cousin Stass Allie had been a Jedi Healer before replacing Adi on the Council during the Clone Wars. Maybe Apprentice Gallia had followed in Allie’s footsteps.
Apprentice Gallia started carefully scanning for the chip, while Skywalker held very still. After 30 seconds, though, Skywalker’s curiosity apparently won out, and he asked a question about how the scanner worked. When Gallia cheerfully answered Skywalker’s question, Skywalker became more animated, firing more and more questions at him. Gallia gamely kept up until Skywalker asked one that, to Mace's untrained ears, sounded more technical than medical.
“You would prob’ly have to talk to one of the engineers here about that,” he said helpfully. “I don’t really know how that part works.”
Skywalker glanced at Mace, turned red, and looked away. It wasn’t until Skywalker was saying, “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter anyway,” that Mace could guess the reason.
Skywalker didn’t know if he would be allowed.
Mace needed to follow up on that.
“Alright,” Apprentice Gallia said, giving Skywalker an encouraging smile, and then continued his work.
After the Healer apprentice had found the chip (implanted 1 inch under the skin on the right side of his lower back, which meant instead of just an arm or a leg getting blown off his whole body would just- breathe, Mace, breathe) and verified it with Master Healer Che, they were left alone for a minute.
Mace cleared his throat, and tried not to mess this up. “If you want to go ask the engineers some questions later, you can. We can’t do it until after our trip to Naboo, but after that I can find someone for you.”
Skywalker shrugged. Considering how excited he’d been while asking questions, Mace found this odd.
“What is it?” He tried to say it gently, but wasn’t sure he succeeded. Skywalker tucked his head down, shoulders hunched. Mace was suddenly reminded of a turtle trying to hide.
“It doesn’t really matter anyway,” he said again. “My scanner was dumb compared to the one here. I shouldn’t have bothered him.”
“The scanner you were trying to make,” Mace clarified, recalling that tidbit from Skywalker’s deluge of information.
“Yeah, it was dumb. Mine wasn’t anywhere near done, and now that I’ve seen their scanners here I realized how much dumber my idea was.”
“What idea?” Mace asked, sitting down on one of the chairs in the room.
Skywalker glanced at him, then away again, shoulders near up to his ears. After a short silence, he burst out with, “I had this dumb idea that I could finish making the scanner and send it back to Mom so she could free herself. But I’m not anywhere done with it, and I see now I need to learn a lot more before it’d be finished. And-” Skywalker paused, then his shoulders slumped. “…Mom probably wouldn’t be able to get a package from me without Watto opening it.”
“Wait,” Mace said, confused. “You know I’m going to ask someone to go free your mother, right?”
At Skywalker’s wide-eyed look, Mace felt even worse. “Did I not mention that?”
Skywalker looked stunned, and then his face twisted and he- oh no he’s going to cry again, good going Mace, find a way to stop it-
“Let’s, uh, let me do that right now, actually,” Mace said, fumbling for his comm. “What’s her full name?”
“Shmi,” Skywalker sniffled, hiding his face. “Shmi Skywalker.”
“Right.” He was going to do this, and then Skywalker would be over his crying and Mace wouldn’t have to hover over him feeling absolutely useless.
The first few times Depa had cried, she’d always initiated the hugs, not him, and Mace had gotten used to Depa just hugging him when she needed it. But Skywalker had been a slave, so what if he didn’t want a strange adult touching him, and Mace didn’t even know how to go about offering anyway-
It wasn’t until Depa had answered his comm with a groggy, but still annoyed “What.” that Mace realized it was still the middle of the night.
Mace fumbled for a reply, regretting everything. However, Skywalker took one look at his face and giggled, wiping tears away with both hands. Well, at least he wasn’t crying anymore.
“Depa,” Mace said. “I’m sorry. I need to ask a favor.”
“Is someone dying,” Depa asked flatly.
Mace winced. “No.”
“Is someone actively being hurt,” she continued.
“…Maybe?” He shared a look with Skywalker, who slanted his mouth and shrugged. Of course Skywalker would choose now to be practical, when Mace had no intention of being the same.
“Alright,” Depa sighed. “I’m listening.” She sounded much more awake, and her holographic face flickered into view. Mace pressed the video button on his comm so that his face would appear for her as well.
“What Jedi are near Tatooine right now? It’s in the…” he wracked his brain, “Arkanis sector. I need someone who’s near the end of their assignment.”
Depa looked at him strangely for a moment, then said, “…If you recall from the mission briefing, Masters Ti and Unduli are finishing up a mission on the planet Arkanis itself.”
Depa clearly suspected something, but Mace didn’t know how to fix that. “Right, yes. The mission briefing, that the Council heard from them… this week.”
There were several moments of very judgmental silence, and then Depa said. “The briefing was yesterday.”
Okay, Mace could see how that would be suspicious.
…He was going to have to tell Depa the truth. He wouldn’t be able to keep it from her. Also, he trusted her enough to know that she would be able to handle it.
“I’ll explain later, Depa. Just please help me.”
“…Okay, yeah, um. Ti and Unduli are your best bet.” She squinted at him. “I’m assuming you have a suggestion for them, not a sanctioned mission?”
Mace nodded, feeling a wave of fondness rise up in his chest. His former padawan knew him well. If that fondness was tinged with a measure of grief, well, he’d deal. “Would they mind dropping by Tatooine and freeing someone by the name of Shmi Skywalker? She’s in- What city on Tatooine is it?” This last was directed towards Skywalker on the medical bed, who peered up at him from under his bangs and volunteered, “Mos Espa. Watto has a junk shop there; it’s easy to find.”
“-Mos Espa. Her owner is named Watto and he has a junk shop,” Mace repeated to Depa. Depa flicked a glance towards where Skywalker’s voice had come from, as if trying to catch a glimpse of him, but didn’t saying anything.
“Ms. Skywalker has a slave chip, which is controlled by a remote in her owner’s possession,” Mace continued on, tone going flat because unbridled rage was not an emotion Skywalker needed to see on his face right now. “The slave chip… is a bomb.”
Depa had gone very still. Mace met her eyes, and did nothing so worrying as scream or cry. “Also,” he said evenly, “it’s possible that Skywalker’s remote is still there.”
“What?!” Depa burst out.
“We’re in the Halls of Healing right now, so his chip will be out soon,” Mace placated. “But if they could look for his remote, I would appreciate it. If they find it, I would very much like them to melt it into slag.”
Skywalker let out another giggle.
“As for Shmi Skywalker, ask them to take her to a nice planet in the galaxy where she can live without being a slave. Alderaan has a great immigration program, but it’s not the only option.” The growing hope on Skywalker’s face was a little addicting, honestly, so he added, “Tell them to let her pick the planet. I can’t imagine she’s had many chances to choose something for herself.”
The flash of a grin Mace saw before Skywalker tucked his chin down absolutely made that addition worth it.
When he looked back at Depa, there was steely determination on her face. “Alright, Master. I’ll suggest that Masters Ti and Unduli make this detour.”
“Thank you, Master Depa,” he said, making a point to use her title, and her bright grin just before signing off meant she’d gotten his message.
“Master Windu?”
Mace, tucking his comm away, looked over at Skywalker again.
Skywalker seemed to brace himself. “Could I go see her? Sometime? Like, Obi-Wan told me that Jedi don’t… don’t really have families. But I just. I want to know she’s okay.”
Mace… hesitated. It was such a small thing. And Mace understood why. But it spoke of attachment, which could grow into something worse, and there was a reason only a few Jedi had any connections to their birth families.
Mace had seen that something worse already. He didn’t know what Palpatine had meant when he had told Skywalker that he had the power to save the one he loved, but clearly attachment had driven Skywalker down the path of the Sith.
Skywalker had chosen one person over everyone else. And then, at some indeterminate time later, he’d become someone who would do unspeakable things. Dark things.
And now that Mace was starting to know Skywalker, and see him for the kid he’d been, he wanted to see him Fall even less.
But Skywalker was looking at him, still, and seemed to be turtling into himself the longer Mace didn’t answer.
“How about…” Mace said slowly, “We get a comm set up, and you can call her. Not too often!” he rushed, as Skywalker brightened up. “Because you’ve got to focus on being a Jedi, of course,” he added, even though it felt like a poor excuse. But Skywalker was nodding determinedly, so it looked like the excuse worked.
Mace would have to be very careful about this. Many of the Jedi who had connections to the outside world had Fallen. Count Dooku, for one.
Though, Mace wasn’t sure Dooku’s attachment to his planet Serenno had been the reason he had Fallen.
Mace felt his brain snag on Count Dooku for a moment, and then it occurred to him what was wrong about it.
Dooku was still a part of the Order right now.
That… was going to have to be a thought for later, Mace thought, as the door to their room opened again. Skywalker followed his gaze, clearly remembering why they were there and trying not to be nervous about it.
Apprentice Gallia and Master Che walked in, gentle smiles on their faces, clearly responding to Skywalker’s hesitance.
“Hello again, Anakin,” said Apprentice Gallia. “Are you ready for this?”
Skywalker took a deep breath, glanced at Mace, and nodded.
“Would you like Master Windu to stay?” asked Master Che. She leveled a look at Mace, coming over to stand at Skywalker’s side. “I can kick him out if you need me to.”
Mace leveled a flat look at her, but she ignored him and told Skywalker unflinchingly, “I’ll do it. He’s not required to be here for this. It’s your choice.”
Mace had to give her that one.
Skywalker looked at her, opened his mouth, and hesitated. He looked at Mace again, staring at him with something… something Mace couldn’t name.
Mace was tired, and angry, and overwhelmed, and in less than 6 hours he and Skywalker would be headed to Naboo.
Which was just stressful. Mace would have to deal with a bunch of people he didn’t know, people he knew but didn’t want to talk to, and people who didn’t know him but should, and his temper was going to be even shorter since he hadn’t gotten any sleep.
But he shoved all that aside for a moment, and tried to make his face show what he was feeling: that he was willing to do whatever made Skywalker happy.
A few seconds more, and Skywalker’s shoulders relaxed.
“Yes,” Skywalker said. “I want him to stay.”