(no subject)

[idontneedluck]

The sun rises warm over the grassy lawn behind the bar, making the shadows of the two men about their business already lengthen to the stature of giants. They stretch in unison, their motions measured and time-worn - Chirrut more fluid and extended, Baze a rock of strength despite the years of missed practice. Chirrut is cheerfully mocking Baze's technique as they dip and twist, a matched, mismatched pair.

Comments

[idontneedluck]

He can feel Baze's passiveness, and it's one of the only things preserving his calm.

Still. Enough is enough. Chirrut steps between the two, elbowing Baze back firmly, his face an impassive mask.

Chirrut has no such ideas about a 'free shot'.

[imthepilot]

"How could you!" Bodhi growls, shoving at Chirrut. "Both of you. You knew! I brought you food. I talked about my past. And all the while you knew!"

[iprotectyou]

Baze is affronted by Chirrut's elbow. He understands why--he didn't exactly tell Chirrut that he was planning on letting Bodhi hit him--but it's still annoying. He already has a broken nose, and is still tearing up, and Chirrut has to add an elbow? Honestly.

But then Bodhi starts screaming, and that arrests Baze's attention. He has nothing to say in his defense; he gave Bodhi a free shot, and considers the matter settled. He folds his arms. "Chirrut?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut moves once, to extend a firm palm into Bodhi's chest, pushing back with the strength of muscles trained over decades.

Other than that, he remains unmoving, unmoved.

"Baze." He answers, settled. He doesn't feel the need engage with such unfocused anger.

[imthepilot]

Bodhi lets himself be pushed but bounces back, still yelling. Still a lanky ball of fury. "Why! I want to know why? Why would you do that. Let me trust you? Why let me think you were my friends. When you'd done that!"

[iprotectyou]

Baze still doesn't have anything to say. He sighs. He'd pinch the bridge of his nose, but that would hurt. Thanks, Bodhi.

"I wanted to give you the chance to take a swing at me," Baze says, arms still folded. He's still a stoic anchor, his tone flat in the face of such unbridled rage. "You couldn't while we were in the cells."

And Bodhi did take a swing at him, so the matter should be settled. Right?

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut sighs. He'd cross his arms over his chest, but he can't trust Bodhi to keep his hands to himself.

"I smell blood. Did you break your nose again, Baze?" It's a long-suffering scolding. "I thought I taught you how to duck when you were twelve.'

[imthepilot]

"WHY!" Bodhi screams, seething with rage.

[iprotectyou]

"I didn't break it," Baze says, answering Chirrut directly rather than dignifying Bodhi's ill-defined scream with a response. "I mean, technically, technically I did, because I let him hit me, but... Shut up, Chirrut."

Baze truly doesn't have anything to say to Bodhi. The large man could counter with a name from the temple--every time Bodhi speaks, a name of one of the dead--but that would be meeting pain with pain, and Baze is too old and too tired to get his hackles up. He's just going to let Bodhi spend his anger out in a rant, and then, and only then, possibly engage with him.

[idontneedluck]

"No, I won't, because I'm the one that's going to have to endure your snoring." Chirrut retorts, dry as the Jedhan desert. "And the snoring is momentous."

[imthepilot]

Bodhi stumbles back, running his hands through his hair. "Guardians." He mutters the word, bitter with contempt. "Nothing but thugs." The knot of rage turning to cold and heavy, his own grief and guilt like lead in his gut. "You would have killed me on Jedha. Even after I defected. After Saw Gerrera's monster raped my mind. All you see is the uniform. How does that make you any better than them?"

[iprotectyou]

That touched a nerve. Baze bristles, setting his jaw. But still he doesn't answer. He refuses to encourage Bodhi in his attack.

Yes, they would have killed him. In a heartbeat. Imperials were destroying the heart and soul of Jedha, and Bodhi made himself one of them. Bodhi shouldn't expect acceptance; he put himself on the opposite side of a war. They didn't know he'd defected when they found an Imperial pilot in a cell.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut tsks at Baze's tension, and turns to push Baze's jaw back, his fingers gentle as he assesses just how bad the break is this time.

"I suppose I can invest in ear plugs." He finally allows, sounding amused. "If you keep doing this, Baze, I will need them."

[imthepilot]

He can't do think. He can't keep up the rage. He doesn't have the strength. Not any more. He's been justifying his life, his choices for too long.

His sisters are alive. That's all that even matter. No-one can make him feel guilty for that.

He hugs himself, feeling bile rising in his throat. He falls back into the grass, sitting down heavily. "If you want to hurt me for what I use to do, just do it."

[iprotectyou]

Baze would sigh through his nose, but it's broken, and bleeding, and generally rather nasty. He tastes the copper tang of his own blood; Baze should be used to that by now, but it's new every time.

He steps around Bodhi, giving him a wide berth. Baze stoops to pick up his staff from the grass, and settles it on his shoulder.

"Chirrut, come," Baze says, and heads back towards the bar.

[idontneedluck]

"Only for you." Chirrut retorts, following Baze's path. The sliver of kyber from Jedha's heart is glowing in the early sunlight as Chirrut braces his staff over his shoulders.

[imthepilot]

Bodhi sits with his knees drawn up, his head bowed. Letting them do what they will. Beat the shit out of him, walk away. He doesn't care. He's too tired to care.