(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

[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.