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The Jedi come to the Temple of the Kyber, and Baze welcomes them along with the other Guardians of the Whills. Chirrut is by her side, and without looking, Baze knows that Chirrut is smiling and full of…something, anticipation, maybe. These are the first Jedi that Chirrut has seen since she joined the Guardians several years ago, and it must seem so impossible to her, to have Jedi standing here, in their temple on Jedha.
The other Guardians welcome them as well, and the Jedi greet all of them and then join the Guardians for their midday meal. Stories fly across the tables, about events in the galaxy on other planets the Jedi have been on, the Clone Wars, lightsabers, other Jedi that have come to the temple in the past. The mood is light and jovial, and Baze takes in as many stories and as much news as she can, but mostly she revels in the beautiful smile on Chirrut’s face and how happy her friend is, to have the Jedi among them.
“The Force moves so strongly with them,” Chirrut whispers to Baze later, when the Jedi are sequestered away with the elder Guardians and the two of them are back in their own rooms.
“The Force moves strongly within all those who know and believe,” Baze replies, looking up at the ceiling, though she can’t stop herself from glancing over to Chirrut, seeing the dark shadow of her body curled under her blankets.
“It is different, with the Jedi,” Chirrut says simply, giving a small shrug before she lays down as well.
Baze is silent a moment before she continues. “You always wanted to be a Jedi,” she says tentatively.
“Yes,” Chirrut manages around a yawn. “I did.”
That is the end of their conversation, but it keeps Baze up a while yet. What if the Jedi notice Chirrut and her abilities? Chirrut is stronger in the Force than anyone Baze knows, and while Baze loves being a Guardian of the Whills, loves living in the temple on Jedha and exploring the archives, learning as much as she can about the Jedi and the crystals, the Force and the Sith, lightsabers and meditation, she is afraid in this moment.
She doesn’t know what she would do if Chirrut were to leave. Baze consoles herself that perhaps the Jedi won’t want Chirrut, because she’s blind, but the sharp pang of guilt makes her take the thought back almost immediately. Chirrut is all to her, but if the Jedi want her, Baze would never ask her to stay. How could she? Chirrut knows that their friendship is deep, but she doesn’t know Baze’s true feelings, and Baze is sure that she’d die if Chirrut ever found out. It would be selfish, Baze decides, if she were to tell Chirrut how she feels just so Chirrut wouldn’t leave her.
If the Jedi want Chirrut with them, as impossible as it might seem, Baze would wish her well and watch her heart leave on a starship, head turned toward the sky.
Baze doesn’t expect the Jedi to stay in Jedha at their temple for long at all. The Clone Wars are still ongoing, and while the Senate has yet to approve of the use of Jedi as soldiers, it is all but official at this point. Baze knows that they fight to preserve the peace in the galaxy — whether they will succeed, she is not sure of. The conflict is still new, but surely these Jedi are needed. They carry lightsabers, and know a great deal about combat, both in training and on the ground.
Baze expects them to find whatever it is they are looking for, and leave. When a few days pass, she asks Chirrut why the Jedi are still among them; she has seen Chirrut talking to the Jedi, even watched the other woman spar with one of them. Chirrut held her own, and Baze felt so proud of her, that even a Jedi could not best her friend.
“They are looking for some information about the kyber crystals,” Chirrut replies, giving a small shrug as she finishes drying her hair from her bath. “I think it may have something to do with the Clone Wars, although I cannot say for certain. They talk more with the senior guardians about that than I.”
“What do you talk about with the Jedi? Surely not robes,” Baze teases, and Chirrut scrunches her nose playfully. “Yours match your eyes - the Jedi brown would be no good for you.”
This is also said teasingly, but is no less true, and Baze is gratified to see the smile on Chirrut’s face.
Chirrut’s smiles mean the world to her.
“They talk to me of the places they’ve been, the different kinds of beings that they’ve seen. This morning one of them asked if I would like to travel from Jedha one day.”
Baze feels a chill at that, but she makes a light enough remark that she’s reasonably certain Chirrut doesn’t notice her discomfort. The thought of Chirrut leaving pains her, and not for the first time Baze wonders about Chirrut and the Jedi — would she leave, for the chance to be one of them? She doesn’t think so, but she also can’t be certain. People’s hearts change, and Baze knows Chirrut has always admired the Jedi.
She pushes the thoughts from her mind, and though she sleeps on it, the next day Baze finds herself watching the Jedi as they interact with her friend even more closely than before. She can’t believe that Chirrut would go — for all that it is a desert planet, Chirrut is very fond of Jedha and its people, not to mention their temple and the Guardians of the Whills.
And, Baze thinks (somewhat selfishly, in her own mind), Chirrut is very fond of her as well.
The longer the Jedi stay, the more Baze worries that they will try to take Chirrut with them. She has watched the Jedi watch Chirrut, and listen to her; they are clearly impressed. Chirrut must be too old for them to train as a Jedi, Baze tries to tell herself. She is blind. But even those things are not enough for Baze to convince herself that Chirrut might stay. Her friend is the most worthy of all, and Baze knows that she would be a good Jedi, one of the best, if she were allowed.
She worries about all of this, wavers between convincing herself Chirrut will not be chosen and being offended that the Jedi might not want her. Through all of it, Chirrut is there, knowing that something is wrong with her friend. She tries to get Baze to open up, to tell her what’s wrong, but Baze never wants to trouble her.
“I can sense your feelings through the Force,” Chirrut says one night. “There is something wrong, I know it. Won’t you let me ease your mind?”
“I don’t want to trouble you, you know that,” Baze replies, giving Chirrut a small but honest smile. “I can do this on my own.”
“But you don’t have to, dear one,” Chirrut murmurs, reaching a hand out to brush against Baze’s cheek. Her hand wavers, and without thought Baze reaches out as well, guiding Chirrut’s hand to her face with her own.
“You’re my best friend, and I love you. You don’t need to do anything on your own.”
I love you. Those words mean the world to Baze, and of course she knows that Chirrut loves her. Just because Chirrut does not and will not love Baze the way that she longs for, does not diminish the certainty Baze has in that one fact. Chirrut Îmwe is her best friend, and loves her, and will always be there for her. But she cannot ask for Chirrut’s help in this, even if her friend wants that of her. That would mean telling Chirrut how she feels, and asking for assurances that she doesn’t want Chirrut to have to give.
If Chirrut does want to go, if the Jedi do want her, then Baze doesn’t want her to give promises that she might have to break, but nor does she want the honesty that she’s afraid of, that Chirrut cannot love her more than she already does, that no promises can be made at all.
Everything is balanced upon the point of a knife, and Baze feels that no matter which way she falls, she will fall. Even so, she tries to trust in the Force. I am with the Force and the Force is with me. I am with the Force and the Force is with me. She repeats this to herself and meditates and finds peace and comfort in the Force, but it never lasts long.
There was a time when Baze was only certain of the Force; now she is certain of the Force, and of Chirrut.
“I cannot have your help with this, Chirrut. I will not ask it of you, not this time. You are my dearest friend in all the galaxy, but you cannot help me this time. All is as the Force wills it, and I will trust in the Force.”
Baze says this last to comfort Chirrut as much as herself, though she pulls away when she sees Chirrut’s brow crease and her mouth turn down in a frown.
“I love you,” Chirrut says again, and Baze gives Chirrut’s hand one last squeeze before she lets go.
“I know.”
All the talk of love makes Baze think of a conversation she and Chirrut had some time ago, about the Jedi and love, and what is Baze’s way and what is not. That conversation has been a cherished memory for Baze, though she hasn’t thought of it in detail for some time. The two of them had lain out on the roof near the gardens, watching the sun set and then, watching the stars. Chirrut had been able to tell that something was wrong, but as always, she had eased Baze’s mind. Even then Chirrut had known her, but not her full heart.
Even then Chirrut had been able to comfort her as much as Baze doubted herself.
“Tell me,” Baze had said, her fingers moving through the soft strands of her friend’s hair, “a story. Something simple, Chirrut, please.”
Chirrut had been silent for a few moments, her head resting on Baze’s stomach, and Baze had known just as well then as she does now, that Chirrut had been concerned for her. Always Baze liked adventure stories — complicated battles, long quests, exploring throughout the galaxy. For Baze to not want that, something must have been preoccupying her mind. Chirrut hadn’t asked what was troubling her, and Baze hadn’t offered to tell. Instead, Chirrut simply began telling of lightsabers.
It had been easy for Baze to look up at the night sky and focus on Chirrut’s words — how the kyber crystals powered the lightsabers, how there was usually a metal hilt, how lightsabers could be made with a single blade or even a double one. It hadn’t been anything Baze hadn’t heard before, but she had felt comforted, listening to Chirrut’s soft voice distract her from her thoughts.
Thoughts that were, of course, filled with Chirrut herself. Baze loved her. She’d known that night and probably for some time before, and it would be something she would know to the end of her days.
Chirrut had worked herself into talking about the different forms of lightsaber combat when Baze had interrupted her.
“What do the Jedi think of love?” she had asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear Chirrut’s take on it.
“The Jedi acknowledge love,” Chirrut had said after a moment, “but the Jedi Code forbids any Jedi from forming bonds of attachment. Marriage, family… these are things that the Jedi cannot have, although they are no strangers to compassion and empathy. All lives are precious to the Jedi.”
“But they cannot love,” Baze replied, letting out a soft breath, keeping her gaze trained on the heavens.
“No,” Chirrut said sadly. It had to be sadness, Baze thought. “The Jedi value serenity over passion, and love without attachment.”
Baze had been silent then, conscious of Chirrut turning her head to look up at her. Chirrut didn’t say anything though, and Baze kept silent, counting the stars above her until her own emotions were under control. She was already so attached to Chirrut, but Chirrut valued the ways of the Jedi, perhaps even wanted to be one of them. There would be no room for Baze or her feelings in that life, Baze knew — not that she was convinced Chirrut could ever return her feelings regardless. Chirrut was so beautiful and kind and serene, believing in the Force in a way that was different from Baze’s own belief.
“I don’t think I could love like that,” Baze said finally, her fingers continuing to brush through Chirrut’s soft hair.
“No, of course you could not,” Chirrut had said, and Baze hadn’t even the space of time to feel put out by her words before her dearest friend was continuing. “You have such a big heart, Baze, and you are so full of love and devotion. You could not love like a Jedi, but that does not mean that your way is any less than that of the Jedi.”
“What of your way?” Baze asked boldly. “Is your way that of the Jedi, or is it different?”
Chirrut was silent, and still Baze did not look, though she felt Chirrut’s head tilt into her touch. No doubt her friend was looking at her, wondering what had got into her, why she was asking such pointed questions with no explanation.
“I am no Jedi, Baze Malbus,” Chirrut said, and it had the air of finality and so Baze said nothing. It was no admission that Chirrut could or would love like Baze herself did, nor was it a condemnation of the Jedi way, but it was something, and it kindled that small flame of hope Baze held secret in her heart. Even if she wanted to say something, the moments stretching between them here were far too fragile.
Instead, the two of them had looked up at the sky in silence, and it had felt as if they were the only two on the planet, in the galaxy. Just the two of them, together and, strangely, at peace.
Baze thinks a lot about that conversation over the next several days, and each time she thinks of it she’s more grateful for how good of a friend Chirrut is, always knowing how to comfort her, always knowing what to say. With the Jedi here, though it is interesting, Baze feels deeply uneasy, as if something is going to shift and she’s not sure of what. She can be sure of Chirrut though, or at least she hopes so; she’s still afraid of Chirrut leaving.
In fact, Baze is now reasonably certain that Chirrut leaving her alone is her worst fear — she’d just never had to think about it before.
Not until the Jedi.
She comforts herself with thinking that they’ll be leaving soon, and after finishing training with Chirrut on blasters, the Jedi take Chirrut aside to tell her that they will be leaving in several days. Baze takes care to not look like she is listening to the conversation too closely — though the Jedi are not being secretive, she knows that Chirrut has been closer with them during their stay than she has. Baze has only been included because she goes where Chirrut goes, which does not pain her in the least — Baze has never cared about fitting in.
Hearing that the Jedi are leaving eases Baze’s mind, and she lets out a soft sigh, only to freeze when the Jedi asks Chirrut if she would like to travel with them back to Coruscant. Everything goes so quickly from Baze being reassured to feeling like she’s on the precipice of losing the one thing she’s certain she can’t bear to lose. She hears Chirrut demur but she’s not exactly saying no, either, and all of a sudden Baze can’t bear to be there anymore. She puts their last blaster forcefully into the rack, feeling rather than seeing Chirrut glancing back to her.
Baze tries to concentrate on the Force, to gather some comfort from its presence, but no matter how hard she tries in that moment to reach out to it, it seems as if the Force is pulling away from her. It seems so far away, and that’s never happened before, not when she needed the Force as much as she does right now.
“Baze?” Chirrut calls over to her, tone concerned, and Baze can’t bear that, either.
She pulls on her jacket and starts walking out of the training quarters, ignoring when Chirrut calls after her yet again. As soon as she’s at the door, Baze turns and starts running, not particularly caring when she ends up. She ignores the calls from other guardians, ignores everything, feeling the need to escape but knowing that she can’t. Baze Malbus will be in this temple and on Jedha until the end — it is Chirrut that will be leaving. Chirrut didn’t say no, Baze reminds herself, and she feels the sharp and unwelcome burn of tears threatening to spill.
She’ll hate herself if she cries, though, even more than she hates herself right now for being so afraid and for running away. Baze used to be braver, she thinks, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath, stopping short in her running. She leans over, bracing her hands against her knees, and tries to get her breath back into her lungs, tries to banish the fear and the anger.
Those lead to the dark side, she knows.
Baze paces further into the garden, grateful that there are no other Guardians there. She rakes her fingers through her hair, trying to calm her thoughts, and she’s very nearly succeeded when she hears Chirrut call her name. Turning around, she watches Chirrut enter the garden, her staff at the ready. It took no time at all for Chirrut to find her, and Baze realizes that means Chirrut must have run after her. It tears Baze between feeling warmth toward her friend, and wishing that she’d had more time alone to gather her thoughts.
“Chirrut, I’m sorry,” Baze begins, but Chirrut shakes her head, taking a step closer but clearly guarding the only way out of the gardens.
“Tell me, Baze. What is it?”
“It’s nothing, I — I did not feel so well, and needed the air.”
From Chirrut’s expression, Baze can tell that her friend doesn’t believe her, though it is true in part — Baze didn’t feel well, and she did need air, but it’s nowhere near the truth.
“Tell me,” Chirrut says again, and this time it’s Baze that shakes her head.
“No, it’s nothing, really,” she tries, giving a small shrug. “Let me pass, and we can go to the market, like we’d planed,” she continues, but Chirrut’s gaze is determined, and Baze falters, going silent.
She’s not sure she’s ever seen Chirrut look so, except perhaps in the early days when they were children and Chirrut had worked so hard to prove herself to the others, but Baze herself has never been the focus of that determination. Not until now.
“No,” Chirrut says forcefully, her grip tightening on her staff as her gaze focuses directly on Baze, though she cannot see her. “No. You will tell me what is wrong, Baze Malbus, and you will tell me now. Enough of this. The Force has been pulling away from you, or you from the Force, in your misery. I have let it pass long enough.”
“Will you make me tell you?” Baze asks, having noticed the way Chirrut holds her staff.
“If I have to,” Chirrut says simply. “But I do not think I will. You will tell me now. It will make things easier on you, do you not see that? Keeping this big worry to yourself has distanced you from not only the Force, but from me. You will feel better once you tell me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Baze sighs, sitting down on the bench behind her. She knows her friend, and there will be no easy way out of this one — no way out at all. She accepts that Chirrut will not let her leave, and that her friend has forced her hand. Strangely, she does feel at peace with it. She has been keeping this secret for so long that perhaps Chirrut is right — it has distanced Baze from the Force. What pains her is that Chirrut thinks it has distanced Baze from her, but perhaps Chirrut is right in that as well. After all, has not Baze been hiding a part of herself from her friend for years now? Watching her behavior and words and feelings, their bond through the Force, so as not to have Chirrut know the truth?
“Maybe,” Baze continues, “I will tell you and you will not want to stay by my side any longer, or I will hear something that pains me.”
“I will not make you feel worse, I promise you,” Chirrut says, and Baze glances up sharply, hearing the amusement in her friend’s voice. Seeing the fond smile on Chirrut’s face, Baze sighs again, picking a flower from the plant next to the bench, toying with its stem between her fingers, watching it twirl.
Chirrut is silent, waiting patiently with her hands on her staff, until Baze gestures to the bench, though Chirrut cannot see it.
“Well, sit down then,” Baze mutters crossly, and Chirrut laughs as she walks over, setting her staff aside and joining Baze on the bench.
Baze is silent for another moment herself, working up the courage to speak, though she knows that now she will have to tell Chirrut her secrets, to bare herself and hold nothing back. Chirrut deserves that, she knows, and that certainty has been a cause of great doubt during the past years. Her hands clench and unclench, and move to do so again, but Chirrut’s hand covers hers, and when Baze glances over, her friend is looking on at her patiently, a small smile on her face.
“I am here,” Chirrut says quietly.
“You are here,” Baze agrees, taking strength from Chirrut’s hand in her own, and continues, “but you will not always be.”
“What do you mean?” Chirrut asks, tilting her head curiously.
“I heard the Jedi speaking with you, Chirrut. Of course I heard them. I know they want you to come away with them to Coruscant, to the headquarters of the Jedi Council, where all the Jedi must go. You cannot do whatever it is they want with you here on Jedha. I know the Jedi and this opportunity must mean so much to you, and that you will go.”
“Of course I will go,” Chirrut replies slowly, her brow furrowing. “But why is that a bad thing? We are not meant for just Jedha, Baze.”
“I know you are not, but the Jedi do not want me, Chirrut. You will go, and do wonderful things, but I will have to watch you leave, and be without you, and I’m no longer sure that I know how to be that way. I care for you too much. You have been my friend for so long now, we are so connected, that if you go… I am attached to you, to the bond we share,” Baze makes herself continue. “When you leave, it will be a loss to me. I told you before that I cannot love the way the Jedi do, and Chirrut, I — I love you. More than all the stars in the galaxy, all of the planets and worlds and people, more than the Force, I love you. I believe in the Force still, Chirrut, even though I have distanced myself from it in my misery, as you said. I am certain of it, but I am more certain of how much I love you, and that I need you in order to live properly, to be whole. But I cannot ask you to stay.”
Chirrut does not respond, and Baze turns her gaze to their hands, grateful that Chirrut has not pulled away from her. She breathes in and out slowly, saying their mantra in her head, over and over; I am with the Force and the Force is with me. There is serenity in routine, in that comforting adage that she has been trained to since she was a child. But even with that comfort, Baze is conscious of the fact that still, Chirrut is saying nothing, and after a few more moments, even the knowledge that the Force is with her is not enough to quiet her doubts.
Baze lifts her head, looking to Chirrut, and is surprised by what she sees. It is not pity, or doubt, or even disgust that is on Chirrut’s face. Not sadness or amusement, either, but simply…confusion. Chirrut’s brow is furrowed, and she is still looking on at Baze, but with an expression of utter disbelief.
“This is what you have worried about then, all of these years?”
“Yes,” Baze says quietly, making herself say something, because the peace she felt at finally opening up to Chirrut is turning to doubt and fear.
“You love me, more than the Force…”
“More than anything,” Baze replies simply, because it is this she knows as well as anything, that she loves Chirrut, and always will.
“And you would not ask me to stay, even though it seems that is all you would wish for. You love so well, Baze, I have always known this. I am willing to bet that you think yourself selfish, for wanting me to stay, for loving me, for being attached to me. You are wrong, and I know that just as much as I know the Force binds us all together, but no one more than you and I. The Jedi may not want you, Baze Malbus, but I do.”
Baze blinks, her hand tightening on Chirrut’s without thought. “What?” she asks dumbly, not knowing what else to say. Of all she had worried about and expected, been frightened of, this was not it.
Chirrut is not the only one in disbelief here, and Baze knows that if Chirrut could see, her friend would see her own confused expression mirrored. It sounds like what Chirrut is saying is that she wants Baze, that she believes in their bond, places as much attachment on it as Baze does herself. She doesn’t think Baze’s love is selfish, or wrong. In fact, it sounds as if Chirrut is actually…quite pleased.
“Do you really think I would leave you behind? I would not go anywhere in the galaxy without you, my dearest friend. As much as I believe in the Force, I believe in you more. If we were apart, it would be a loss to me, too. I told you years ago that I was not a Jedi, and I told you that I love you, but I think I have not been clear enough this whole time.”
“What could you have to be clearer about?” Baze asks, her voice faint. “I do not expect anything of you. I could not ask you…” Everything seems to be moving so fast, so unexpectedly. She knows what she hopes, but she cannot bring voice to that, because if she did, and she were wrong—
“I am no Jedi, nor will I ever be,” Chirrut says, giving a faint smile. “And I love you, as you love me, and when I leave Jedha on a starship bound for Coruscant and the Jedi Archives, you will be with me.”
Baze goes breathless for a moment, sure that she must be dreaming. She has spent years convincing herself that Chirrut Îmwe cannot love her, but she does, she does, she does. Chirrut loves her, and has loved her, and will love her, and they will be together on Jedha and Coruscant and any other planet, in any other star system. The possibilities are endless and dizzying, and Baze feels a sense of hope that, for the past several years has been only slightly kindled, but now bursts to life inside of her.
She wants to trust this, wants to have it, but looking at Chirrut, it still feels almost impossible. How could someone so good and beautiful, who has such a deep capacity for kindness and wisdom, love and loyalty, care for Baze? How could she deserve that? Chirrut is her best friend, and so Baze has seen the best of her, but she’s not sure that Chirrut has seen the best of Baze herself, and—
“You think too loud and too much,” Chirrut murmurs, interrupting Baze’s thoughts. “There is nothing to doubt here. There is just us, and this, between us.”
“Chirrut,” Baze breathes, her fingers flexing against Chirrut’s own, and she feels frozen even as Chirrut’s free hand reaches out and brushes against Baze’s cheek. Baze feels her cheeks warm in a blush, and her friend smiles, just as warm. Baze loves her so much, and if Chirrut loves her back as she said she does, then she doesn’t need anything else. But even still, there is one thing that Baze has wanted for so long, and never thought that she’d have; if Chirrut loves her, then perhaps, she can have it.
“All you have to do is ask,” Chirrut says quietly, inclining her head towards Baze.
“Do I need to say it out loud? It seems that you already know so much.”
Chirrut laughs again, and her hand slides further, curling around the back of Baze’s neck, and she pulls Baze in for the kiss she’s waited her whole life for. It is gentle, and slow, and it seems to end in no time at all, but it is the sweetest thing Baze has ever tasted.
When they part and pull back, both of them are smiling.
They sit in silence for a moment, looking on at each other and taking each other in. Baze feels lighter than she has in a long time, and the presence of the Force and her bond through it to Chirrut seem stronger than ever. It has expanded, and grown in depth and brightness as well. If Baze were able to reach out and touch it, she is sure that she would fall into it. All she wants now, though, is to feel Chirrut.
When she reaches out to their bond, Baze can feel Chirrut’s feelings for her as clear and bright as day, and she wonders how she could’ve missed this.
“I think perhaps you could’ve been a bit clearer,” she admits, and Chirrut smiles.
“I think perhaps you are right,” Chirrut replies, scrunching her nose playfully.
“It’s only that I thought we were on the same page this whole time, you see,” Chirrut admits, and Baze’s brow furrows.
“What do you mean?”
“I have been telling you for years now that I love you,” Chirrut says, her tone implying that Baze is incredibly silly for having missed this.
“What?” Baze says again, not knowing what else to say. It’s true that Chirrut has been telling her for years that she loves her; they’ve been close for so long, since they were both children, and they’ve always been easy with admitting their affection for one another. But Baze must’ve been stupid, not to realize what Chirrut was really saying, to not realize the depth of her feelings. They had their bond through the Force, she should’ve been able to feel it—
“Are you saying, Chirrut, that you thought we were… together, this whole time?” Baze asks, incredulous.
Chirrut gives a nod and a small, relieved smile. “Yes, exactly. I told you that I loved you, and we share our quarters, go everywhere together. And, of course, we can feel each other through our bond in the Force. I could always tell how you felt.”
Baze flushes at that, though she doesn’t feel embarrassed, not really. Chirrut is right — they should’ve been on the same page. She supposes she can’t blame Chirrut for thinking they already were, if she could tell how Baze felt and known that it mirrored her own feelings. “You — knew?”
Chirrut gives another nod, and a warmer smile, this one almost teasing.
“I cannot believe you,” Baze says, but she’s not upset at all, and Chirrut can tell by the disbelieving smile on her friend’s face. And when Baze shoves her playfully off the bench and into the bush, Chirrut can only laugh. Baze laughs too, and it is the happiest she’s been in so long, since she started trying to hide how she felt.
She springs off the bench and holds a hand out to Chirrut. Chirrut takes her hand and Baze pulls her up, another smile gracing her face as Chirrut tucks a flower from the bush behind her ear.
“Come,” Chirrut says, keeping hold of Baze’s hand. “We must get ready, if we are to leave in only a couple of days. We will not be gone for too long, Baze. I do not think I could live in so loud a place."
“Then once you are done, Chirrut, we will come home.”
“You are where home is, Baze,” Chirrut says simply, and Baze smiles warmly as they start out of the gardens and through the temple, to whatever awaits them. Things are still new between them, but Baze trusts Chirrut with all of her being, so she is sure of it, and knows all will be well. They will go to Coruscant, and then perhaps back to Jedha; Baze will go wherever Chirrut wills, and no matter what awaits them, they will be together.