(no subject)

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut spends long hours investigating his new home, exploring all the nooks and crannies that he's allowed to wander through. Some of the Elders think it amusing, a curious game for a curious child.

Chirrut finds the loose stone in the wall of a storage closet in the training hall. Behind a row of practice dummies, there's one stone that will shift if he works at it patiently enough.

He learned through trial and error that the adults don't notice things down low, consider them unimportant. This doesn't make sense to him, but he abuses this fact. He finds a stone that's not quite right - it is smooth where the wall here is rough, but it's the right size, and thin - he can create a space.

First he puts some dried plums there. Just the extras he had after dinner one night, that he didn't want to eat right away.


Then a tin of pickled... something, he isn't sure other than one of the other cans nearby had been opened already, and he could smell the brine of it. Pickled things keep for a long time, so it goes into the space.

Then a wrapped hard candy, one that he earned for a good practice.

Slowly more and more items make their way to Chirrut's stash, until he has enough that the thought of it settles his shoulders when he gets twitchy. If they get mad, if the food he's becoming dangerously used to stops coming... he'll be okay.

Comments

[iprotectyou]

"I was too afraid to ask you directly," Baze says, letting some of his sulkiness come into his voice. He kicks at non-existent dirt. Even the storage closets are clean in the temple. "I was scared that you wouldn't answer my question."

Hint, hint, Chirrut.

[idontneedluck]

"You should be, it's a stupid question." Chirrut scoffs, pride squaring his shoulders. "Of course I'm not going to answer it."

[iprotectyou]

Baze is sorely tempted to throw something at Chirrut. One of the training dummies, perhaps, or one of the stones, provided they can be loosed from the wall.

He breathes through his nose, praying to the Force for patience. He'll never make a Guardian if he gives into his angry impulses at every little thing.

Of course, this isn't just a little thing. This is Chirrut being a total jerk.

"Fine," Baze snaps, folding his small arms in a mirror of Chirrut's own position. "Then you don't have to tell me. I'll just find out on my own once you start hiding more food!"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut growls, low and fierce as a scawny boy can be.

Then he closes the distance between them in a flurry of movement, fueled by anger, and plants his small hard fist into Baze's nose.

[iprotectyou]

Baze leans back when he sees Chirrut coming, out of instinct. This is bad. It gives Chirrut a clear shot at his nose and chin, and the impact nearly knocks Baze out. Plus, holding his head high puts Baze off-balance, and he can't strike back when he's off-balance.

Not that he can even think about striking back just yet.

Baze is rattled. Shocked. His hands fly up to his possibly broken nose, trying to stem the spurting blood. "You hit me!" he shrieks, and the fact doesn't even sink in until he says it aloud.

He moves in a straight line--another mistake, stemming from not being well-trained--and throws a slow haymaker straight at Chirrut's face.

[idontneedluck]

"Well you lied." Chirrut yells back, and he's too caught up in his anger and his panic to catch the sounds of Baze throwing a punch.

The blow knocks him sideways, staggering into the practice dummies, but he doesn't make a sound.

"What in Force...?" It seems the little closet is very popular tonight, as that voice isn't from either boy.

[iprotectyou]

"Master Cabaril!" Baze says, drawing himself up straight while clutching his bleeding nose. "It's nothing, sir! We were just... hitting each other!"

"I can see that," Master Cabaril says, striding into the room to check on Chirrut. "Why were you hitting each other?"

"It's my fault, sir," Baze says, but doesn't elaborate. "Is he okay?"

[idontneedluck]

"Your fault, huh? Doesn't look like you were the only one participating." Master Cabaril notes dryly, snagging Chirrut before the boy can make good his bid to escape. He eyes Baze's face, then looks down at the thin boy he has collared, all defiance and fear.

"Show me your hands." He orders, and cuffs the boy lightly when Chirrut opens his mouth, his posture decidedly unhumbled. "And none of your lip, you know exactly what I mean, and don't pretend otherwise."

Chirrut pauses, considers this, and then offers up his hands. After a bit of prodding, Master Cavaril frowns.

"Go straight to the infirmary and get checked. I will be making sure you arrived and behaved, Imwe."

Chirrut looks loathe to leave, but he can't think of a way to get at his stash without revealing everything, and he still holds out slim hope that they won't find it.

He turns and flees.

[iprotectyou]

"Let me see your nose," Master Cabaril demands, and Baze lowers his hands. The master frowns again. "I want you to go to the infirmary in twenty minutes, after Chirrut's hands have been tended to. Do you think you can hold out until then?"

Now that the adrenaline rush is starting to fade, Baze's nose has begun to ache. He feels the sting of tears high in his bloody, broken nose. "Yes, sir," he mumbles, staring at his feet again.

Master Cabaril sets a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"I want to talk to Master Sheotar," Baze pipes up, and Master Cabaril gives him a look. "I think she'll understand."

"All right, but make no mistake, you're both in trouble."

"Yes, sir."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut almost doesn't go to the infirmary. The walls of the temple are enclosing, trapping, and he longs for free air.

Master Sheotar is at the door to the courtyard.

"Chirrut Imwe, you're not supposed to be here." She notes, calmly, and leads her straying charge firmly to the Infirmary, informing him that he was on kitchen cleanup duty until further notice.

Chirrut bolts from the Infirmary as soon as he's able, holing up in a forgotten corner of one of the towers. He doesn't dare risk going back to see if his cache is safe.

[iprotectyou]

Luckily for Baze, Master Sheotar is waiting for him once he finally gets to go to the infirmary. Unluckily for him, he's also placed on kitchen duties, at the same time as Chirrut.

His nose is definitely broken. It's this news, delivered by a kindly infirmary technician, that galvanizes him into broaching the subject of food hoarding with Master Sheotar.

"I know," she says, not unkindly, and his eyes widen.

"You know?" he says. "But--"

"Baze, do you really think he's hurting anyone by creating a stash of food?" Master Sheotar says, resting her hands on her bony hips and staring the boy down. "He's from the street. That's probably how he survived."

"I didn't think of it that way," Baze says, his lower lip quivering. "I have to find him. I have to apologize."

"Let him lick his wounds for now. He broke his hand on your nose, you know," she says, and sweeps from the room before he can say, "Yes, ma'am."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut seriously debated not showing up for his assigned punishment. He's angry - furiously so - and embarrassed, and...

He could leave.

He could go back to the life he left behind. It's colder now, the winter months setting in properly. He's heavier now, however, more prepared to weather the bitter freeze. The first few weeks would be hell, he knows - he'd have to establish his place amongst the others who live on the street, and there are some ruthless sorts out there, better armed than he ever dreams of being.

He's pretty sure all of his stashes out there will be gone, too - whether found but sentients, or disrupted by strays.


Stronger than that, is his desire to stay for his own sake, for the temple sake, for... well. Right now he's furious at Baze, blazingly angry, but with distance he can see Baze didn't mean him harm.

Chirrut shows up, prompt if subdued, for his punishment duties. The Guardian in charge takes one look at his splinted hand, tsks, and sends him to fetch dirty dishes.

[iprotectyou]

Baze was already in the kitchens when Chirrut arrived, and hid from him. He's not ready to face his friend--friend? yes, friend--but he knows he has to. Baze can't let it end like this.

He waits until the opportune moment--which is never, there's never a good moment for this--and approaches Chirrut, his hands still wet up to the elbows from scrubbing mugs from the Elders' tea.

"Chirrut?" Baze says, and then the words all fly right out of his head. He scrambles for them, so they come out in a rush. "I'm so sorry. About your hand. And the food. And everything. Master Sheotar knocked some sense into me, so I won't bother you about it again. Okay? Okay? Is that all right? Can we be friends again? I miss you."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut, turning from putting away the cleaned table linens, nearly stuttersteps into the cabinet with surprise.

He didn't expect...

He tries to scowl, but it comes out twisted and worried.

"She didn't hurt you, did she?" He asks, even if the idea of going toe to toe with Master Sheotar is beyond laughable.

[iprotectyou]

"W-What?" the eight-year-old stammers. He takes a step forward, reaching out, and then drawing back again. Eventually, he makes up his mind and takes Chirrut's hand, offering it a squeeze. "No, of course not. She didn't actually knock me around, just talked to me. And she was right. You're not hurting anything."

[idontneedluck]

Baze has his hand, so he can't bolt, but he freezes abruptly.


"She knows?" It's gone, then. He hadn't had time to start a second hiding place. He knew better, but... he'd thought it was safe.

[iprotectyou]

"Master Sheotar knows everything," Baze whispers reverentially, as if speaking too loudly about the woman will summon her. "But don't worry. She's leaving it alone."

He offers Chirrut a guilty look, one he forgets his friend can't see. "As will I."

[idontneedluck]

"It doesn't matter, people know now." He sighs, and resists the urge to kick the linen cabinet in frustration. His whole frame hangs dejected, though fierce unbending pride keeps his head up.

"Too bad, I had some good stuff in there."

[iprotectyou]

"But she always knew," Baze says, baffled by his friend's dejection--and thoroughly unhappy about it. "If she's leaving it alone, everyone will, and it doesn't matter that we know. Right?"

[idontneedluck]

"They know I have it." His answer is a long few minutes coming while he decides if he's actually going to say anything at all.

"If the food stops, they'll take that too."

[iprotectyou]

"Ohh," Baze says, as comprehension dawns. His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "They're not going to stop the food."

He says this, and yet his friend is worried about it. Baze reconsiders his stance. He clenches a fist out of determination, which Chirrut can no doubt hear in his voice. "But if they do, we'll be prepared. We'll squirrel away so much they can't possibly find it all."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut goes still in shock. He knows Baze trusts the adults here. Baze has had a good life, one that he deserves, and doesn't know about the things adults can do.

And he still wants to help.

He throws his arms around his friend, hugging tight.

"We'll have to teach you how to walk softer first - you can't hide anything if you're stomping around." He teases, and there's such relief and gratitude in that voice.