Chapter Text
“I do not fear death.”
“That,” Baze said, “is obvious.”
Chirrut was unfazed in the face of his anger. “The Force protects me.”
“This is your protection? A blaster wound to the arm?” Despite the heat of his words, his hands were gentle as he cleaned the wound near Chirrut's shoulder. “I protect you, and I can't be everywhere.”
“The Force will be where you are not,” Chirrut said. He didn't flinch as Baze began bandaging the wound, but his mouth was set in a thin line.
“The Force cannot be trusted with you,” Baze replied. The Force had not protected him from blindness. The Force had not protected him when the Empire took over. The Force had not protected him from being shot in the market today during a scuffle between the Imperials and a few innocent citizens.
“Have faith,” Chirrut said with a shadow of his old grin. “I'm still alive, am I not?”
“Yes. But only because I am there to watch your back.” Baze secured the bandages, then studied his partner. Other than the one blaster wound, Chirrut looked fine, though there was sorrow in the lines around his eyes.
He knew his disbelief saddened Chirrut. For the most part, they tried not to talk about that one fundamental difference. Once, the Force had bonded them. They had both been dedicated Guardians, devoting their lives to the teachings of the Force. Baze had believed wholeheartedly in the principles of the Guardians.
He'd been a younger man, then. A younger, more naive man.
Baze's lack of faith had been the subject of many arguments and debates in the years following the collapse of the Republic, but they had learned to coexist, to work around it. They lived in fragile peace- until Chirrut did something like this.
“I remember when death didn't frighten you this way,” Chirrut said after a moment.
“Death does not scare me.” Not his own, anyway.
Chirrut didn't dignify that with a reply. He tested the mobility of his arm, then nodded, satisfied. “Thank you.”
Baze sighed. His anger from earlier had drained away, leaving behind a weary resignation. “You're welcome. Try not to get shot again.”
“I will, or I won't. There is no try.”
Now Chirrut was trying to annoy him. It was his turn to be silent as he packed up their meager medical supplies, noting that they were almost out of curative skin sealant. There would be no more once it was gone- medical supplies were becoming increasingly hard to find as the Empire cracked down on Jedha City.
“One day,” Chirrut said as he put the medkit away, “you may have to trust the Force to do what you cannot.”
He knew this already. One day, Baze would be too far away. One day, he would not get to Chirrut in time. Eventually, Chirrut's luck would run out and he lived in dread of that day.
That day was not today, though. And if Baze had anything to do with it, that day would not come for a very long time.
“For now,” he said to Chirrut, “I trust you to stay out of trouble- at least until you've recovered.”
“Well,” Chirrut said, “if you insist.”
Fragile peace fell once again over their small home. It would not last, Baze knew, but he would take what he could get.
And, frustrating and reckless or not, Chirrut was alive. No matter how angry Baze had been, that was what really mattered.