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The first time Baze experienced Chirrut’s death, he was beyond distraught. This was the exact opposite of how he wanted their shared life to be.
After Chirrut had passed on into his precious Force, Baze prayed for the first time in nearly two decades.
‘Bring him back to me.’
Every variation of that plea, he tried it.
‘I can’t live without him, please bring him back to me.’
He didn’t want to believe that this was the end.
He was relieved when the blaster shots hit him in the chest and everything went dark.
…
He was not happy when he woke up again and they were on their way to Scarif.
Still, it was a second chance.
The second time he saw Chirrut die in front of him, he was angry.
He ignored all attempts to get him to hide from the oncoming attacks. If this was the Force’s way of giving him a second chance, throwing back into the same danger with no hope of survival, then he was glad that he had turned his back on it all those years ago.
This was not what he had meant, and the Force knew it.
Whilst he had always known it at the back of his mind, he knew for certain now, that the Force was not on their side. It was not a mystical Force that helped those who followed it, as evident by the destruction of the Jedi Order.
It was cruel.
He snapped, letting out a bellow that made some of the troopers pause for a moment, and he fired at them. His anger was so strong, that he didn’t feel any of the shots that managed to hit him.
He didn’t care at all.
The pain of losing Chirrut again, combined with the anger, was acting like a fire in the pit of his stomach, fuelling him forwards.
He felt like barely a day had passed since he’d lost Chirrut the first time, which meant that he had lost him twice in less than twenty-four hours.
He never wanted anything to do with the Force ever again, and those were the last thoughts that passed through his mind when the blaster shot struck him in between the eyes.
…
He woke up again, and cursed, ignoring Chirrut’s scandalised gasp.
…..
The third time he saw Chirrut die, he screamed to the high heavens.
It wasn’t in the same place.
It wasn’t the same death.
It happened earlier than that kriffing switch, a grenade that caught them both by surprise.
He found himself begging to the Force again, trying and failing to bargain, feeling abandoned.
It was like he was being taunted.
…
He woke up again.
….
He was completely numb as he watched his love die for the fourth time.
He went through the motions of it all, body moving on automatic, until he reached Chirrut’s body, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead, before lying down next to him, not caring about how he was killed this time.
..
He woke up again.
….
The fifth and final time he experienced Chirrut’s death, he did something he never thought he’d dream of doing in all the years that he and Chirrut had been together, in all these time loops where he knew that Chirrut was going to die.
He just accepted it.
He held his dearest friend and love as close as he could, for as long as he could, committing his face to memory, before he turned to fight.
If this was what the Force intended, then so be it.
He didn’t like it, but fine.
So long as the Force didn’t expect him to live as well.
Something almost seemed to click into place as he was hit again, falling to the ground as everything went black.
….
When he next woke up, it wasn’t to that horrible sight of the ships ceiling, but to a medi-bay, a familiar hand clinging onto his own. When he looked over, it was to see Chirrut’s relieved smile, tears streaming down his cheeks, his chest heavily bandaged and the smile of bacta in the air.
“You’re back.” Chirrut whispered.
“I-I- “
“- The Force brought you back to me.”
Baze bit back the automatic reply, giving Chirrut’s hand a squeeze and simply humming.
‘Thank you.’ He thought, feeling lighter than he had in years.
And something almost seemed to whisper ‘you’re welcome’ back.