exhale ; chirrut + baze

4 / recruitment

AIR FILLED CHIRRUT'S LUNGS as he hesitantly stepped back into the temple. Baze leaned against him, Chirrut's arm around his waist, holding him up. Baze's form nearly swallowed Chirrut's tiny lithe body. Chirrut swore to himself that he would never step back into this place again, with the people who shot at him and threatened to "train" him, but here he was.

Chirrut's grip tightened on Baze's side as a monk drifted past.

"I can walk on my own," Baze argued, lifting his head off Chirrut's shoulder.

"Please, I'm holding onto you for the irony -- the blind man is leading for once," Chirrut huffed, leading Baze down the hallways that Chirrut had escaped just hours earlier.

Baze made a soft sound resembling admiration before leaning against him again, his hair coarse against Chirrut's side.

"Baze," a person breathed, the soft patter of feet growing louder as they approached Chirrut and Baze.

"Mara."

Baze let go of Chirrut, reaching towards the person, a woman, by the sound of it. Baze's warmth was replaced by an emptiness, Chirrut standing awkwardly as he heard the crinkle of clothes as the two people collided.

Chirrut smiled to himself, turning on his heel and making his way back to the gate.

And then, the words, "Chirrut, wait," stopped him entirely.

"Stay," Baze said, "It is much to ask, but," he paused, as if to take a breath, "stay."

A large hand closed around his wrist. A small, kind gesture. I do not mean you harm, it seemed to say. If he were out in Jedha's streets, Baze would have been smacked down and unconscious and Chirrut would have escaped, metres away.

But this wasn't Jedha.

With a flick of his head, Chirrut gave his answer.

~

AIR FILLED BAZE'S LUNGS as he watched Mara pace back and forth in the room, her hair somehow messier than usual. ( And it was always messy. ) Chirrut sat rigidly in the corner of the room, his fingers picking at the armrest of his chair.

"Mara," Baze said again, "It's fine."

"But it isn't fine, Baze," Mara replied, "I was the cause of the panic attack, I shouldn't have pushed you like that knowing that you -- "

"Knowing that I what? That I'm emotional? That I don't feel safe when I clearly am?" he snapped, the fingers on his bed curling up in anger.

"Baze," Mara's gaze went soft. "You know I don't mean it like that."

Baze looked up at her, weakened. "I-it's not your fault."

"Baze -- "

"It's not your fault," he repeated, stronger now. "I was just agitated and I panicked. I'm fine, Chirrut helped me."

Mara sighed. "Did you at least take that medicine I got for you?"

Baze's fist gripped onto his bedsheets tightly, his voice hard. "I told you, I didn't need it," he said between his teeth. "So I buried it in the garden. At least there it will provide some use to the plants."

Mara muttered something incomprehensible in Mandarin, huffing. Chirrut knew more than a little Mandarin to understand that what Mara said wasn't meant for childrens' ears. "You are insufferable, Baze Malbus," she said with a sigh, standing up to leave.

Chirrut stood up quickly, nearly startling the chair. "Miss?"

Mara turned around, an eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"Can I help?" he asked, Baze's eyes widening in disbelief.

"Of course," she nodded, the both of them leaving the room before Baze could respond.

Mara let out a sigh, before flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes. Chirrut stood by the doorway, his eyes gazing into the area behind her.

"May I?" Chirrut offered an arm to her.

She took it, linking her arm through his, guiding him to the store room where they kept the shovels.

A silence stretched between them, before Mara turned to Chirrut. "Am I a bad friend?"

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Everything I do, I do for his own good, and yet, he's so stubborn and rude towards my actions, as if he doesn't want me to help him. I know he hates seeking help because he always feels the need to be the strongest in the room, but," Mara sighed, "he needs it."

"You're just trying to help. There's nothing wrong with that."

Mara slowly let go of his arm, and the sound of a doorknob turning followed soon after.

Mara stepped inside, pulling out two shovels and taking Chirrut's arm again, leading him to the gardens. When they arrived, Chirrut let out a gasp.

All sorts of scents entered his nose, ranging from sweet and syrupy to thick and overbearing. Chirrut crouched down, his fingers brushing over a small waxy leaf. He rubbed it between his fingers, morning dew wetting his fingertips.

Mara's hair tickled against the side of his arm as she joined him. "The plant is called a rose," she said, "It's an ancient species, but it somehow managed to thrive in these conditions."

"I've read about them before, but they usually grow in more nutritioned soil, don't they? How are they surviving the sand?"

"Hope," Mara Jade said, "and faith."

Mara's hand took his, and placed his hand onto a flower bud. The petals were soft and silky under his fingers. Chirrut drew back his hand.

"I never felt anything like that before."

Something in the air changed; Chirrut sensed the woman was smiling as she held a hand out for him to take.

He took it, hoisting himself up.

"Now," she said, "let's dig up some medicine."