Regrouping

[idontneedluck]

Some would imagine a desert world cannot have seasons.

Some would be wrong.

They had come with the first night of plunging winter cold. They came with monsters with metal feet throwing fire, with orders muffled by static, with enough of an army that the Guardians hadn't so much been bested as over-run.

The new Governor was not interested in prisoners, especially not in a blind monk who developed a raspy cough after a fight to exhaustion and a few nights in a freezing cell.

Chirrut huddles in an alcove of the market, out of the thin wind that rises out of the desert. No one comes near him, out of fear of their new oppressors, but no one takes advantage of him either... he doesn't know if it is out of respect for what he was, or fear of a more immediate retribution.

He doesn't care much. The Force isn't speaking to him, he has no idea where the others are, and he feels a Hutt sat on him.

Comments

[iprotectyou]

Sarai leads them to a nearby table. "So what can I do for you, Baze?"

Baze lowers his voice, glad there's no Stormtroopers in the Blue Rose. "We need to lay low for a little while, Sarai," he says. "The Imperials--"

"Those dogs," Sarai spits, her face cold and her voice colder. "I can help you for two days. After that, you're on your own."

"Thank you, Sarai," Baze says warmly, clasping her hand.

"You're welcome, Baze. Anything for a friend," Sarai says. "Now, I bet you're hungry. I think I heard your friend's stomach growling."

[idontneedluck]

"The Empire's ability as a host leaves something to be desired." Chirrut reports, dryly, his smile thinning to a wry smirk. "They could take lessons from you."

He knows how he is expected to converse, how those with sight get nervous or uneasy when he fails to at least face in their direction when speaking. After the last few days, however, his attention is dragged away by each newcomer, each raised voice, wary of the next wave of trouble.

[iprotectyou]

Sarai laughs, but it's forced and hollow. "That's the only thing they won't take," she says, and stands from the table. "I'll get the keys to your room and have the girls bring up some food."

Baze stands with her, a grunt his only outward sign that anything is amiss. "Thank you, Sarai. Do you think you could spare some bacta patches as well?"

"Baze, did you get yourself into trouble?"

"Just a scratch," he assures her. He cups Chirrut's elbow as she tells them their room number. Then Baze guides Chirrut to the stairs.

"There are stairs here," the bigger Guardian says. "Watch your step. We'll get you another stick soon."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut sighs - he liked his stick. He's had it so long it's practically an extension of himself.

The next one, he promises himself, will have extra knobbly bits, perfect for bashing Imperial troops. It is perhaps more warlike a thought than is strictly encouraged by the elders, but considering the circumstances he doesn't think they would mind.

"I would tell her that you lied to her, but then she might not bring us food." He informs Baze as he manages the stairs. "Just a scratch, does anyone actually believe that?"

He'd rant more, but there's a tight feeling in his chest he doesn't particularly want to exacerbate.

[iprotectyou]

Baze guides Chirrut to their room in sullen silence, trying not to concentrate on the burning pain radiating from his side. He unlocks the door and enters the room with Chirrut, shutting the door behind them.

Baze sits down heavily on one of the beds, holding his injured hip. Once he sits down, the strength flows from his muscles and joints like water. "Sarai knows me better than that. She'll bring us food," he says. "And bacta, so you can quit worrying."

[idontneedluck]

He can hear the pain in Baze's voice, the guardedness to his movements. There's the smell of iron, of burned flesh and fabric.

"I'm not sure I can." Chirrut retorts. Ever since he woke up in unfamiliar and unfriendly surroundings, he has been worrying.

"Do you think Eiko is alright?" If Baze won't let Chirrut focus on him, he'll extend the reach of his worrying. "I heard her, when the fight started, but I lost track of her."

Chirrut was so proud of the girl, who after so many years could almost use a staff as well as he can. No one mocks his little flower now.

[iprotectyou]

"I'm sure she's fine," Baze says gruffly, grief thickening his voice. He swallows. "I'm sure she is. She can't be anything else."

He looks away from Chirrut, tearing up once again, though this time from sorrow. His breathing hitches twice as he moves, and he tries to compose himself. "Oh, Chirrut," he says brokenly.

Then he clears his throat, wiping his tears away with his thick fingers. "At least I have you again. We have to stick together this time. I won't let you out of my sight."

[idontneedluck]

Alarmed at such grief from Baze, a man more given to joy, Chirrut turns from his slow exploration of the room to stumble, hasty and incautious, to Baze's side.

"It's alright, it's alright." Baze is a mountain of a man, but Chirrut manages, settling on the bed and dragging Baze close enough to hear his heart. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

[iprotectyou]

Baze wraps his arms around Chirrut, burying his nose in his hair. The movement pulls on his wounds, but he pays them no mind aside from grunting. He sniffles miserably, clinging to his friend and breathing in his earthy scent. The Guardian trembles in Chirrut's hold, gritting his teeth.

"Where do we go from here?" Baze whispers, his tears staining Chirrut's scalp. "I know we're safe, for the moment, but I can't stop shaking."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut's own tears are silent, soaking into the front of Baze's robes. He hasn't grieved for his losses until now - surviving had been so much higher on his list of priorities.

"The Force is with me, and I am with the Force." His voice is gravelly, but he makes no effort to hide it. "And I fear nothing, for all this is as the Force wills it."

[iprotectyou]

"It seems even the Force has abandoned us," Baze mutters bitterly. "Why did the Force will this?"

He releases Chirrut, if only to drag Baze's thumbs across Chirrut's eyes, wiping away his tears. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't question the Force. The Force is with me, and I am with the Force."

[idontneedluck]

"You are still bleeding. I think some surliness is allowed." Chirrut points out, then starts at the sound of knocking on the door. Adrenaline and anger brings him to his feet, imagining troopers in the hall, come to finish what they started.

They are not going to hurt Baze again, not while he has anything to say about it. They can have Baze over his cold, dead body.

[iprotectyou]

Baze leaps to his feet as well, hissing through clenched teeth as the movement jerks his wounds. He places a steadying hand on Chirrut's shoulder. "It's the waitress."

Baze releases Chirrut and crosses the room, opening the door to retrieve the food and bacta patches. He thanks the hapless girl delivering them, and shuts the door in her face.

He carries the food to a table in the middle of the room. "Looks like we have some kind of curry and rice. Smells good. Do you want to eat it while it's hot or use the 'fresher first? You could use it."

[idontneedluck]

"I will eat - you should clean up first, before you're all over blood." Chirrut chides, visibly trying to get himself back under control. He stifles a rasping cough as he finds his way to the table, feeling carefully with hands and feet. "Do you need help with the patches?"

[iprotectyou]

"Probably not," Baze says, pulling a chair out for Chirrut and guiding him to it. The bigger Guardian plucks up the bacta patches from the tray. "I'll get cleaned up, then. Feel free to eat, but don't eat mine, or I'll kill you."

Baze heads to the 'fresher room, happy to scrub off the dried blood and grit taken from several days' worth of combat. He disrobes and stands under the sonic system, sound waves breaking up the grime. He waits until he's completely clean, and then applies the bacta patches to the wounds arching fire across his ribs down to his hip. Baze dresses again, ignoring the filth on his robes. He exits the refresher room feeling eighty percent better.

"All right, Chirrut," Baze says. "Your turn."

[idontneedluck]

After neatly dividing the rice and curry in half (or 40/60, at least, Baze is larger and will need more)

(30/70, he's not quite as hungry as he thought and Baze has been injured, it's logical)

...

(look, he took some, okay?)

He has dutifully finished his portion, whichever fraction it is that he ended up with... mostly. He feels heavy and claggy, and he blames it entirely on crying. It always stuffs up his sinuses and makes the world feel muted.

He stands though, when Baze returns, glad to trade the smell of the blaster injury to the more medicinal one of bacta.

"I was going to see if you had fallen asleep in there." He teases, gravel still ground into the pitch of his voice.

[iprotectyou]

Baze makes his way over to the table, his steps light despite his bulk through ingrained habit. He pulls out a chair and sits down carefully, trying not to aggravate the blaster burns. "Chirrut," he says, glowering down at their food. "I seem to have more curry than I used to have. What's the meaning of this?"

[idontneedluck]

"I don't know, it looks the same to me." He replies, blithely innocent, or at least as close as he can hit that mark at the moment. "You should eat up, though."

He's just going to escape to the 'fresher now, and get rid of some of this prison stench.

[iprotectyou]

Baze sighs. "Thank you," he says to Chirrut's retreating back, and starts wolfing down the curry. It's lukewarm, but still delicious, with some form of spiced poultry mixing with the more mundane potatoes and squash. He makes sure to leave some for Chirrut after all, despite his own grumbling stomach. He then crosses to the bed and stretches out on it, nearly falling asleep by the time Chirrut gets back.

[idontneedluck]

When Chirrut returns he's chaffing his arms and shivering - there might be heaters in the 'fresher, but they're having trouble competing with the outside cold now that the sun has gone down. Or at least that's the story he's telling himself, because he's not going to get sick, he already decided that.

"Ugh, I hope your friend doesn't expect us to be early risers." While that is his norm, he also hasn't slept safe in days - he fully intends on being positively slothful tomorrow. Tugging his sleeves down over his hands, he carefully treads toward where he has inferred that the second bed should be.

[iprotectyou]

Baze yawns, propping himself up on his elbows. "I doubt it," he says. "Let's sleep in. We're safe here, for now. Oh, and I left some curry for you. You should eat it before it gets cold."

That said, Baze rolls over in bed, pulling the covers up to his neck. He makes a facsimile of snoring, but it's not too long before his breathing evens out and he's well and truly asleep.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut sits on the edge of his bed and listens for a while. When this day started, he had been almost certain he would find Baze again, and had been trying (unsuccessfully) to come to terms with that. This is... this is more than he could have ever asked for.

Quietly, so as to not wake Baze, he slips off of the bed to kneel as he has since he was a small child. For such riches, he should give thanks.

"The Force is with me, and I with the Force..." The meditative susurration of words fills the room. Some time later, Chirrut wincingly pushes himself back up to his feet and into the bed. He knows, distantly, that the uneaten food will cause a fight tomorrow... but that is tomorrow. Tonight, the Force can take care of the rest.

[iprotectyou]

The two days in the Blue Rose pass too quickly. There was indeed a fight over the unfinished curry, mostly because it was a waste of food, but Baze finished it anyway. Sarai sends them off with a pouch of food and a couple of water bottles, and wishes them well.

Once out on the streets again, Baze wastes no time taking out Imperials wherever he can find them patrolling at night. He even manages to steal one of their E-11 blaster rifles and some ammo from a downed trooper. Using it isn't that difficult, and he discovers that he's not a bad shot.

Soon, however, he and Chirrut decide that they need to find him a proper stick. "I don't have any more favors I can call in with friends," Baze says to Chirrut, turning away from a nearby garrison of Stormtroopers patrolling the market. "Especially not with weapons suppliers. Where will we find you a stick?"

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut...

Is distracted.

He knows this is probably not a good survival skill, with Imperial troops on edge and Baze gone vigilante. He keeps reeling his focus back, and grimaces at the question, but...

....

He shakes his head like a wet dog. Here. Now. He really needs to focus.

"I suppose I can learn to be without one, for a while, at least." He has the echo box transmitter they scavenged and Baze managed to repair, something he hasn't had need of for years, not since he was a child still learning the dimensions of the world. It helps him deal with the ancient and degrading architecture of Jedha as a whole, however, so he won't complain.

[iprotectyou]

"Chirrut?" Baze says, clasping his shoulder with the hand not holding his rifle. The older Guardian steers his friend into a safer alcove, where there aren't so many Imperials breathing down their necks. "Are you all right? You seem preoccupied."