Chapter Text
The Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Mace Windu stared down at the defiant boy in front of him. Boba Fett had been caught by the Temple Guard as he attempted to sneak into the Temple via its ventilation system while carrying a bomb intended for as close as he could get to Mace’s quarters. He had been found and apprehended quickly - there were definite advantages to having Jedi of all shapes and sizes in the Temple Guard, including ones who could fit through ventilation shafts even easier than an underfed teenager - but now Mace was going to have to decide what to do with him.
“Killing me in revenge for the death of your father will not bring you peace, Boba,” he tried, already knowing that Boba was far too caught up in his grief and pain to listen.
“What, you trying to talk me out of trying to kill you because you’re scared I’ll succeed?” Boba taunted. An admirable attempt, but one that wouldn’t have worked even if he wasn’t trying it on an empath. Still, perhaps Mace should call his bluff.
“Very well then, Boba, there’s a training salle down the hall. If you’d like to face me, we can do so there,” Mace answered calmly.
Boba paled slightly, but didn’t back down. “And is it actually going to be a fair fight, or are you going to have these two” - he jerked his chin at the two Guards still standing at his shoulders - “hold me while you chop off my head like you did my father’s?”
“A fair fight, just you and me. You have my word.”
As the odd group processed down the hallway, Mace discretely locked his saber to the lowest power level it had. Boba was desperate, and the last thing he wanted was an unfortunate accident.
Once in the training salle, Mace hung his outer robe on the hooks by the door, then took his place in the center of the mats. Boba yanked his arms out of the grasp of the Guards, then stared mulishly at them. Mace nodded, and the two returned the pile of weaponry they had removed from him when they first apprehended him.
Loaded down with enough weapons to make Mace wonder how he could even walk, Boba stalked to the center of the mats across from Mace and took a stance so reminiscent of Ponds that Mace couldn’t help but smile - and remind himself, yet again, to schedule himself some time off so he could head out for a visit.
In his moment of distraction, and with no word or indication of the fight beginning, Boba shot a rocket directly at Mace’s torso, flew up six meters with his jetpack, then shot his whipcord out towards the lightsaber in Mace’s hand.
But for all Boba’s skill and raw talent, he was also a young teenager facing off against the Master of the Jedi Order. Mace spared a single moment to deactivate the rocket so it wouldn’t blast a hole in the wall, jumped straight up seven meters, knocked the whipcord away to embed itself harmlessly in the wall, and hit the deactivation button on Boba’s jetpack on the way down.
Boba was well-trained enough to land in a roll, and between that and the padding on the floor seemed to be uninjured. But that took just enough of his attention that he didn’t have a chance to dodge as Mace came up behind him. With his prosthetic hand he captured Boba’s wrists behind him in a grip far too firm for the boy to escape, and with his other he activated his lightsaber and held it in front of Boba in a clear warning.
“You going to kill me now?” Boba snarled.
The pain and rage and sheer teenage attitude was understandable, if somewhat exasperating. (Somewhere, Mace was sure, his own master was laughing her head off at him.) And underneath all that anger, perhaps there was just enough honor for the mad plan starting to form in his head to work.
“Would you like to try again?” Mace asked politely and let him go.
The next three bouts didn’t go any better for Boba than the first one had, and by the end it was only his pride keeping him from dissolving into a sweaty and exhausted, though unharmed, puddle on the salle’s floor.
Mace, not even breathing hard, hunkered down in front of him. Time to trust the Force and take a risk.
“I promised you a fair fight, but I think you’re going to need to get stronger and learn more about how to counter Jedi and the Force before you and I can actually have that fair fight.” And maybe get a few decent meals and good nights’ sleep, too, not to mention a few dozen more years of experience, he thought but didn’t say. Boba’s pride was already taking enough of a hit tonight. “So I propose a deal.”
Boba looked up warily.
Mace reached up and grabbed the card he had summoned from across the room. “This is a Temple access card. With it you - and only you - will be able to access any areas in the Temple that any Jedi Knight could. You’ll be able to go nearly anywhere and do basically anything, and no one will try to stop you. I’m sure you’ll be able to think of some ways to make use of this.”
“And you’re just giving this to me? I can go anywhere, do anything? Take you out from ambush any time I want? What’s the catch?”
You’re a child, Mace wanted to answer. You’re a child, and I killed your father in front of you. He was the one who put you in that situation, and I was defending myself and my family, but I still bear responsibility for my actions and their consequences. And once you were orphaned and alone, we should have found you. We, as an Order, and myself as an individual, should have made sure you had food to eat, a roof over your head, friends, an education…. And now you’re scared and scarred and alone, and you will not accept kindness from me. You have no reason to. But maybe, just maybe, this is something I can do.
And I do have a request.
“The catch is simple. That bomb you were planning to plant? It could have easily dropped several stories' worth of stone into the creche and killed dozens, maybe hundreds, of children. Those children are not at fault for what I did to your father. Many weren’t even born yet. So the agreement is this: you can go where you wish in the Temple, and attempt to assassinate me whenever you wish. But you will do no harm to anyone else. No one else will be collateral damage in your schemes. Are we agreed?”
“Fine,” Boba ground out sulkily, but Mace thought he sensed a touch of relief. Whether that was because it wasn’t an onerous condition, or because Boba didn’t actually want to kill children as part of his revenge, Mace couldn’t be sure.
“Then we have a deal,” and Mace held out his hand for Boba to clasp.
As Boba stalked out of the room, practically jangling with weaponry and with an expression just daring the two Temple Guards to stop him, Mace stared after him and wondered what he was unleashing on the Temple.
Best case scenario, Boba would actually eat regular meals and find someplace in the Temple where he felt safe sleeping. Vokara could and would hunt him down if she sensed injury or illness and would make sure he got treatment. He might even start sitting in on some of the classes in order to learn how Jedi fought. And in doing so, he might have the chance to make friends his own age, to learn that the Jedi weren’t his enemy, and even to pick up some useful skills in how to process grief and move on. Occasional assassination attempts would be a small price to pay, and might even help keep Mace’s own skills sharp, now that he was off the battlefield.
Worst case scenario, Mace would be unleashing another Jedi-Killer onto the galaxy.
But ultimately, Boba’s fate was his own to decide, and if one day Boba did grow strong enough to defeat Mace, and hadn’t yet given up his desire for revenge, well, Mace had no fear of death.
And then another thought occurred to him and he suddenly winced. Maybe he wouldn’t have to face Boba’s wrath after all - first he had to survive explaining himself to the rest of the Council.
And that’s the story of how Boba Fett became the Jedi Temple's feral tooka.
And, years later, when Boba did finally beat Mace in a fight, he simply grinned fiercely, offered Mace a hand up, and asked, “Best two out of three?”