#macpye

“Yes, it’s me,” Jyn replied and he felt her take his hand. He tightened his grip around hers as much as he could. He hadn’t felt this weak since the aftermath of the sickness that had robbed him of his sight.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Yavin IV,” Jyn replied. “We… we all made it but…”

Chirrut drew in a small breath. No, it couldn’t be. He would know if the worst had happened. He asked anyway. “Baze?”

“He… he’s badly hurt,” Jyn said. “He’s still in the bacta tank.”

Chirrut clenched his jaw but he was grateful that Jyn had not tried to sugar coat her answer. Many did, thinking that because he was blind, he needed to be coddled. He always disliked that. He drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly, calming himself.

“Baze will be fine,” he said with a confidence he mostly believed. “The stubborn old bantha is too contrary to die just because everyone thinks he may.” Jyn gave a soft laugh and he smiled faintly at her. “And the others?” he asked.

“Cassian’s going to be fine,” she said. “He fractured his pelvis and femur and cracked his skull when he fell but he’ll heal. Though they say he may have headaches for a while. Bodhi…” She broke off for a moment and gulped. “Bodhi lost the lower part of his arm and they’re not sure if his hearing will recover.” She managed a shaky laugh then. “I still don’t know how the two of them got us off the planet. They barely had one whole person between them.”

“And K-2SO?”

Jyn was silent for a moment. “He… he died making sure Cassian and I could get the information about the Death Star. But Cassian’s been muttering something about a backup when he’s conscious so he may not be quite as dead as we think.”

Chirrut nodded then he squeezed her hand slightly. “And you, little sister?”

He could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. “I’m fine. I… got off the lightest. They’d have discharged me already but I think they know I wouldn’t leave.”

Chirrut finally asked the question that would make all of this worthwhile if he got the right answer. “And did we succeed?”

“Yes.” Now he could hear the joy and wonder in her voice. “And the Rebellion destroyed the Death Star. I’m surprised the celebrations didn’t wake you up earlier. It was a little noisy.”

He chuckled. “Baze would tell you that I sleep very firmly once I do manage to get to sleep. He’s the light sleeper.”

Silence fell then and Chirrut could feel the uncertainty and hesitation coming from Jyn. He suspected he could find out more if he reached for the Force but he was weak and tired and he knew trying would sap him of whatever strength he possessed in this moment. He would have to be more direct.

“What troubles you, little sister?”

Jyn sighed heavily. “I… I don’t know what happens now.”

“We heal,” Chirrut said. “We recover and we rejoice that we are all alive. We mourn those who died. What comes after that… can wait.”

Jyn was silent for a moment then he heard a little huff of laughter from her. “I guess you’re right. I’m not always good at patience.”

“Neither am I,” Chirrut said in a conspiratorial manner.

“Really?” Jyn said, a little sceptically.

“I learned patience,” Chirrut replied, grinning. “With Baze, it is a necessity and since I wished to have Baze, I learned to be patient.”

Jyn giggled and Chirrut felt pleased with himself that he’d taken her mind away from the futile worrying she was doing. It was understandable that she would be fretting about the future but it didn’t help. Another lesson he’d learned the hard way.

He turned the conversation to more mundane matters. “My staff?”

“It’s beside your bed, leaning against the table,” Jyn replied promptly. “Your lightbow and Baze’s repeater cannon have been stored in the armoury. Some of your clothes were beyond salvaging but there’s a small group of Jedhans here in the Alliance and they organised for new ones to be made. Um, and…”

She paused then and there something about her hesitation that had Chirrut cocking his head curiously. “And?” he prompted.

“I, well, I’m assuming that what you wore is…?” she trailed off, as if unsure how to finish the question.

“They are the robes of a Guardian of the Whills,” he said then chuckled. “More or less. I did have to replace things as best as I could as they wore out over the years.”

“Okay,” Jyn said. “So… they have new robes for you and… for Baze. One of the Jedhans recognised him as a Guardian as well. Said they’d seen him at the Temple.”

An impish smile appeared on Chirrut’s face as he contemplated his husband’s reaction to that. Baze would wear them, Chirrut knew, he would never spit in the face of such generosity, especially from fellow Jedhans who clearly held some respect and honour for their order. But Baze had not worn the robes of a Guardian since his had worn out after the fall of the Temple. Chirrut had mended and repaired his as best as he could, Baze had simply replaced them with something he felt was more fitting since he had stated more than once that he was no longer a Guardian.

But Baze had found his way back to the Force on Scarif and Chirrut knew that it had not simply been empty words meant to appease him in what had appeared to be his final moments. Baze had found his balance again. Chirrut had felt it, had nearly wept for it, had rejoiced before he’d lost touch with the world. He wished it hadn’t taken such extremes for Baze to find his way back to the Force but it had taken an extreme to destroy his balance and his faith so perhaps there was some serendipity in it.

“It will be fine, Jyn,” was all he said.

“If you say so.”

Chirrut laughed at Jyn’s dubious tone then he surprised himself by yawning widely. That got a laugh from Jyn and she squeezed his hand.

“Get some rest. There’s plenty of time for whatever nefarious thing you’re thinking about Baze.”

Chirrut wanted to protest that he wasn’t thinking about anything nefarious at all but instead sleep claimed him with far more ease than it usually did.

******

Chirrut spent much of the next few days asleep, his body demanding the slumber as it continued to heal. Despite that, he’d spoken to Cassian and Bodhi over that time. Cassian sounding weary, a little lost and a touch grouchy due to pain and his forced immobility, while Bodhi had been half-deaf and high on whatever painkillers they’d given him, making narcotic induced plans for a prosthetic arm and hand to replace what had been lost. And he was awake when they brought Baze back in from the bacta tanks. In fact, he all but climbed out of bed, stopped only by Jyn’s hands on his shoulders and her quiet pleas that he not reinjure himself.

They did at least install Baze in the bed next to Chirrut’s and he fretted as he listened to the medics and droids talk amongst themselves. Finally one of the medics came over to stand next to Chirrut’s bed.

“Master Imwe, your friend…”

“Husband,” Chirrut snapped, ignoring the startled gasp from Jyn for the moment.

The medic was silent for a moment and when she continued, her voice was warmer and softer. “Forgive me, Master Imwe. We didn’t know. Your husband was severely injured. It appears he took the brunt of a grenade blast. Apart from the external and internal injuries he suffered, we thought he may lose a leg and part of an arm but he’s responded well to the bacta and that danger is past. There may still be some impairment of the arm or leg but we won’t know to what extent until he wakes up.”

Chirrut drew in a shaking breath and clenched his hands tightly until he felt Jyn pluck at one clenched fist. He relaxed then and let her take his hand, holding tightly to keep his anxious worry in check. He had never liked seeing Baze hurt. It seemed wrong somehow, that a man who was, at heart, so kind and gentle, should be hurt. From a selfish point of view, it made him feel lost when Baze was unconscious or ill. They gravitated around each other’s orbits too much for either of them not to feel lost and unsettled when the other wasn’t there, whether that was physically or otherwise.

“When will he wake?” he asked, surprised that he was able to keep his voice so calm, though he suspected he was not fooling either woman at his bedside.

“Soon,” the medic said. “We don’t want to rush the natural healing process. We expect it may be today but he will wake when he is ready.”

Chirrut swallowed. “Thank you.”

The medic patted the side of the bed and then he heard her walk away. Jyn cleared her throat and he turned towards her.

“He looks… fine,” she said a little awkwardly. “What I can see anyway. There are some scars but he’s… fine.”

She paused again and there was a trembling in that hesitation that made him frown.

“What is it?”

“Um… they cut his hair. Shaved his head down to about your length or maybe a bit shorter actually.”

Chirrut sucked in a breath. “No,” he whispered.

“I can see why they had to,” Jyn said hurriedly, sounding confused by his reaction. “There’s a big scar on the left side of his head. Though, it can’t have been from a serious head injury or the medic would have mentioned it. But it’s long and messy. Maybe he was clipped by some shrapnel?”

Chirrut swallowed around the lump in his throat. Baze’s hair was often a mess, yes, but there had never been enough water on Jedha after the Empire came to make cleanliness a priority. They’d both hated it after their years at the Temple but it was what it was. Scarce potable water was for drinking, not to be wasted. But they’d kept Baze’s hair as neat as possible and Chirrut had always loved running his hands through it, first to work out the tangles and knots then once that was done, just to feel it flow through and curl around his fingers. Baze had always indulged him, leaning back into his touch and almost purring as he relaxed. And the braids… Baze had left his family to come to the Temple when he was young but he remembered the marriage braids his mothers had worn and had mimicked them as best as he could remember after they’d pledged themselves to each other.

It was foolish to mourn something that was done as a necessity but it didn’t stop the lump from forming in Chirrut’s throat.

“Chirrut?”

Jyn sounded worried and Chirrut managed a wan smile. “It’s alright, little sister. I have just always been very fond of Baze’s hair.”

“Uhuh.” Jyn was clearly sceptical about his explanation but she didn’t press the subject.

“How are Cassian and Bodhi today?” he asked, firmly changing the subject.

They weren’t often all awake at the same time, usually only two of them, and while they had spoken, they were each disinclined to share their medical states. Jyn, on the other hand, thought they were all idiots and made sure they were all reassured about each other. For Chirrut’s part, he was less inclined to hide his condition as he was to ensure Jyn had something to do that made her feel useful. She did not strike him as someone who liked to sit idle.

Jyn was silent for a moment then she relented. “They’re going to release Cassian tomorrow as long he agrees to use the crutches they’re going to give him.” She snickered. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he does. And Bodhi will be here for a while. They are going to start weaning him off the narcotics from tomorrow so that they can move forward with preparing him for a prosthetic.”

“His hearing?” Chirrut asked. “It seemed good when I spoke to him yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Jyn said, sounding a little happier. “He still gets bouts of tinnitus but they’re fading and he seems to have gotten lucky there.”

“Has he explained what happened?” Chirrut asked curiously. “He’s not precisely been in a state when I’ve spoken to him.”

Jyn laughed this time. “He told Cassian the other night, though Cassian isn’t sure what to make of it and thinks half of it might be due to the narcotics. He suggested waiting until Bodhi’s a little more coherent.”

Chirrut chuckled but his head turned almost inexorably towards Baze. He wished they’d moved the beds closer or that they’d let him get up. He wanted… needed… to touch Baze, to feel him, warm and alive, under his hands.

“He’s okay, Chirrut,” Jyn said softly. “Though… he looks odd without his hair.”

Chirrut smiled a little. “His ears stick out. He’s always hated that.”

Jyn laughed. “How long have you known each other? And… you’re married?”

Chirrut’s smile widened into something more genuine, soft and fond and delighted. “We’ve known each other since we were children. And he said since no one else would have me, he might as well keep me.”

That drew a giggle out of Jyn and he let himself relax just a little. Jyn would tell him if anything changed with Baze, he was sure of it.

“He was sent to the Temple as a child,” he said quietly, almost contemplatively. “His mothers wanted him to get the best education possible. He’s so intelligent, Jyn. You have no idea how good a scholar he was. He was the pride of the Temple.”

“He was?” Jyn said and from the noises of her moving and the way her weight settled on the bed, she was leaning forward to listen comfortably.

“He was.”

“And you?”

Chirrut laughed. “I was the obnoxious street urchin that was dragged in by Master La’a because he sensed my Force sensitivity and thought there were better uses for it than swindling gullible tourists.”

“Somehow that’s much easier to see,” Jyn said dryly. “You could see then?”

“Yes,” Chirrut said. “I didn’t lose my sight until my late teens. A disease that tore a terrible swathe through NiJedha. It took a huge toll at the Temple because we did not close our doors to those in need. It killed the elderly and very young and of those who were healthy and hale, well, you either recovered in full or… it took something from you. Something permanent. We both came down with it. Baze recovered. The disease took my sight.”

“He must have hated that.”

Chirrut nodded. “He did. Foolish old bantha. He blamed himself. Felt that somehow he did something that allowed him to recover and robbed me of my sight.”

“Why?” Jyn asked, sounding baffled.

“Because he’s Baze,” Chirrut said simply. “It’s… just how he is.” He laughed softly. “Oh, I was terrible to him in the aftermath. I was convinced he was just staying with me out of pity and I wanted none of that. And Baze was never good at articulating his feelings unless he was pushed. We argued.” He laughed again, though this one had less humour and more pain. “Or rather, I spat horrible words at him, trying to hurt him and make him leave first because he hated me rather than end up abandoning me because I was useless and crippled.”

Jyn sucked in a breath. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.” Chirrut sighed. “And he just stood there silently and took it all until I finally ran out of words. Then he took the staff from my hands and pulled me into his arms, told me he loved me and kissed me.”

That startled a laugh out of Jyn. “He did? Really?”

Chirrut smiled. “He did. He’s very romantic really. He also said some things about pity being no part of how he felt and that he’d felt like that for a while and he’d been terrified that I was going to die and he’d take me however I was.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type,” Jyn mused.

“I know.” Chirrut let himself look smugly pleased. “That’s why he’s mine. Because I looked past the exterior to the beauty that was inside as well as outside.” He closed his eyes. “And he is beautiful, Jyn. So very beautiful.”

“I feel almost jealous,” Jyn said, an edge of wistfulness about her voice. “I think my parents were like that.”

Chirrut raised an eyebrow. “You think you will not find the same?”

Jyn made a self-deprecating sound. “I tend to scare people off, Chirrut, or annoy them so much they give up on me. I’ve been told I’m prickly.”

“You are confident,” Chirrut countered. “And firm in your opinions.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Jyn said.

Chirrut chuckled. “Trust me, little sister. When the right person comes along, they will love you because of your flaws, not in spite of them.”

Jyn laughed softly then sighed. “I like that idea.”

They were silent for a moment then Chirrut felt sleep creeping up on him again. He wanted to fight it, to stay alert in case Baze woke up, but he was helpless to fight it as he had been since he’d woken up. His body’s demands were not to be ignored as he healed, it seemed.

******

Baze woke slowly, almost reluctantly, aware that he had been hurt but momentarily unable to remember why or how. It was only when he opened his eyes and saw the professional medbay he was in that it all came flooding back – Scarif, Chirrut, the explosion. He would admit to being surprised that he was actually still alive but the moment his memories returned, only one thing was important to him – Chirrut.

He moved to sit up and immediately bit back a curse as his body told him quite forcibly how bad an idea that was. He looked around the room then he saw who was in the bed next to his. Chirrut was fast asleep and doing so in something as close to his usual boneless sprawl as he could manage in the narrow bed. His world righted itself and he let out a gusty sigh. Chirrut was alive. Everything else could be dealt with.

It was just as well he had that thought in mind when he became aware of the coldness of his head and the lack of the familiar weight of his tangle of hair. He raised his hand and ran it over his head, wincing as he realised his hair had been shaved. His fingers found the long, jagged, meandering wound that ran from behind his left ear up to just past the crown of his head.  He sucked in a hissing breath as he realised how close he’d come to having his skull cut open by whatever had hit him. He did vaguely remember something hitting his head but he’d blacked out shortly afterwards, no doubt because of that blow.

“Baze?”

He looked around and saw Cassian levering himself awkwardly out of a bed across the other side of the room. The Captain grabbed a pair of crutches that were leaning beside his bed and limped over to Baze’s bed, lowering himself gingerly into the chair that sat between his bed and Chirrut’s.

“We’re alive,” Baze said. It was more of a statement than a question.

Cassian nodded. “We all made it.” He flinched and grimaced, swallowing hard before continuing. “Except Kay but… I can fix that.” He waved that away with a sharp gesture then shook his head. “Bodhi. It was Bodhi who did it. I don’t know how. He was… pretty badly hurt. Got you and Chirrut on board somehow then picked up me and Jyn. We got off planet in the nick of time.” He shook his head again, his eyes distant as though he was reliving the memories. “It was chaos up there. The Rebellion had done some serious damage to the Imperial fleet stationed at the planet but there was… there was a star destroyer there. No idea where that came from. We didn’t stick around to find out.”

Baze listened to Cassian without comment. The man was clearly still a little rattled by what had happened but his summary was concise enough. “Bodhi?”

Cassian’s lips thinned and turned down. “He’s… lost his left arm from the elbow down. They were worried about his hearing but that seems to be coming good.”

“You? Jyn?”

Cassian shrugged. “Fractures of the pelvis and femur. Bacta can’t do much for that. Just time and…” He waved an annoyed hand at the crutches. “Those. And rest.” His expression was so sour that Baze barked out a brief laugh. Cassian shot him an irritated glare then he sighed and smiled wryly. “Jyn’s fine. Some bad bruising and a few torn muscles. She was the lucky one.”

Now Baze arrived at the subject he’d been slightly avoiding. “Chirrut? And me?”

“Chirrut’s going to be fine,” Cassian replied. “He’s been in the bacta tank. Now he just needs to heal. But he’s fine. As for you…” He hesitated. “I should get a medic.”

“Just tell me,” Baze said dryly.

Cassian stared at him for a moment then sighed in resignation. “Fine. You nearly lost your left leg and part of your left arm but you responded well to the bacta, according to the medic. There may be some impairment though. You had a lot of internal injuries and…” He gestured towards Baze’s head. “Well, your head. It didn’t look good on the shuttle, there was blood everywhere, but the medics said it must have been a glancing blow.” He paused again and when he continued, his tone was a touch hesitant. “Chirrut seemed… upset that they’d shaved your head.”

Baze grunted at the news about the possible impairment. He’d noticed the leaden sensation in both arm and leg when he’d woken and had refrained from moving them too much. He’d have to try a bit later, see what sort of pain and impairment might exist right now. He wasn’t concerned with the prognosis. He’d manage. He always did. But Cassian’s mention of Chirrut’s reaction to the loss of his hair made him chuckle.

“He’s always been fond of my hair,” he said, allowing his amusement to show in order to reassure Cassian. He knew precisely why Chirrut was upset and he would confess to some regret himself at the loss of the marriage braids. “It will grow back.”

“Has it always been long?” Cassian asked curiously.

Baze shook his head slightly and levered himself into a slightly more upright position, grunting with satisfaction when his injured arm didn’t complain too much about that.

“All new acolytes had their heads shaved when they first joined the Temple,” he said. “But we were allowed to grow it out after we passed our third duan.” He smiled slightly. “But we were only allowed to keep it long if we could prove that it wasn’t a liability in battle.”

Cassian nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Chirrut wore his hair long back then,” Baze said, his voice a low rumble. He smiled faintly at Cassian’s look of surprise. “He was always the best of us. Quick, agile, highly skilled. He arrived at the Temple later than I did and caught up to me with ease.” He laughed. “At least when it came to zama-shiwo. He was not a particularly diligent student unless the subject interested him.”

“Why did he cut it?” Cassian asked as he shifted in his seat, looking for a more comfortable position.

Baze was silent for a moment. “He went blind. Then, in his mind, his hair became a liability.”

“You don’t think so?”

Baze shrugged. “It was not my decision to make. It was something he felt he needed to do.” He smiled a little. “I miss his hair. It was beautiful. But I would not have tried to convince him otherwise. If it was what he needed to help him recover then so be it. And he did have a point.”

Suddenly from behind Cassian came Chirrut’s sleep-blurred voice. “Baze?”

“I’m here.”

Cassian gave a strangled cry and scrambled backwards out of the way as best as he could even as he reached out to try and steady Chirrut as the blind man all but launched himself out of his bed and across the space between the two beds to land awkwardly half on/half off Baze’s bed. Baze seemed unsurprised by the reckless action and just helped Chirrut settle himself more comfortably under the blankets, curled around him.

“Baaaze,” Chirrut said happily, patting Baze’s chest and burrowing his face into the crook of his neck and breathing deeply.

Baze chuckled fondly and ran his hand over Chirrut’s hair. “Did you hurt anything doing that, you fool?”

Chirrut made a negative sounding noise. “Your fool,” he said, still sounding smug and happy.

“Did you hurt anything when he did that?” Cassian asked Baze, one eyebrow up though he was clearly amused by Chirrut’s behaviour.

“No,” Baze said. “Nothing hurts more than it did beforehand.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around Chirrut, lines of strain on his face easing as he did so. “This is better.”

Cassian smiled and levered himself to his feet. “I’m going back to bed then.”

“Sleep well,” Baze said then he turned his attention to Chirrut. “Are you well?”

“Better now,” Chirrut hummed then he reached up and brushed his hand along Baze’s face and over to his ear and hair. “They shaved your head,” he lamented.

Baze grabbed hold of Chirrut’s hand and kissed his palm. “It will grow back.”

Chirrut made a discontented noise and raised his head, his unspoken request obvious to Baze. He let go of Chirrut’s hand and curled his hand around the back of Chirrut’s head, guiding him in for a soft, chaste kiss. They both sighed at that and Chirrut settled down happily again. Baze closed his eyes and let himself drift slowly back to sleep, content to let whatever was to come arrive in its own time now that Chirrut was with him again.

******

Baze scowled at the clothes lying on his bed. He and Chirrut had finally been deemed well enough to be released from the medbay. They weren’t completely healed but whatever was left could be done without constant supervision and in the comfort of their own quarters. Now Baze just had to dress.

He should have known something was wrong when Chirrut turned that particular grin on him as the clothes were brought to them. He knew that grin and it always meant trouble. He’d been told that his jumpsuit had been a complete loss, having had to be cut off him when they brought him back to Yavin IV. He’d expected it to be replaced with another jumpsuit or perhaps a shirt and trousers like those Cassian and Bodhi wore. Instead, he’d been presented with… these.

He picked up the robes, perfect replicas of the ones he’d worn for years before the arrival of the Empire on Jedha and the subsequent fall of the Temple, and glared at them. They’d apparently been made and gifted to him by a group of Jedhans in the Rebellion who had been overjoyed to learn that two Guardians numbered among the survivors of Scarif. To refuse the robes, to refuse to wear them, would be beyond rude but that didn’t mean Baze felt comfortable about it.

“You have found your way back to the Force.”

Chirrut’s voice was quieter than normal, more contemplative than anything else. Baze sighed and turned to see his husband, resplendent in his own new robes, edging past the privacy curtain.

“Yes,” he finally admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I am a Guardian again.”

“Baze, my heart,” Chirrut said with a smile. “You’ve always been a Guardian. That you denied it, that you chose not to wear the robes or claim the title meant nothing.” He closed the gap between them and placed his hand over Baze’s heart. “You have always been a Guardian where it mattered the most – here.”

Baze closed his eyes and bowed his head, his heart heavy in his chest. He drew in a shuddering breath, unable to articulate what he wanted to say. “Chirrut…”

“Oh, Baze, my heart, my love.” Chirrut gave a helpless laugh. “Still doubting yourself, even now.”

Baze let Chirrut pull him into his arms and allowed himself the comfort his husband was offering. It was true that he had always had his doubts, dark thoughts running around in his mind, occasionally growing stronger but always kept in check by Chirrut’s relentless optimism. After the fall of the Temple, Chirrut had turned his despair and anger into renewed faith in the Force, Baze had let his anger and despair draw him away from it.

Lying in bed these past days, he’d felt it as he once had when he’d called himself a Guardian, the Force lingering on the edges of his perception. He knew if he meditated, he would be able to grasp it, albeit fleetingly, and listen to what it had to tell him. He didn’t have the same level of Force sensitivity as Chirrut but he had always been able to find his way there in the end, when he truly needed to.

He’d let himself forget that in his anger, his bitterness, his grief. He’d blamed the Force for… not warning them perhaps. For allowing the Temple to fall. For the deaths of the Disciples and Guardians. Foolish of him really. The Force didn’t work that way. The only one responsible for all of that was the Empire.

But there, on a beach on Scarif, so far away from what had once been his home, he’d found his way back to the Force. His fear for Chirrut, his grief and despair at what he’d thought was his husband’s imminent death, had not driven him away from the Force but instead had shown him the path back to it. And just before he’d lost consciousness after the blow to his head, he’d felt the comfort and peace of the Force once more.

Now, in the robes still lying on his bed, was another path. This one back to something that had once been his life, that had given him pride and joy and a sense of purpose, that had given him Chirrut and all the love, wonder and joyous frustration the man brought with him. This time, as always, the path was his to choose. He could turn away and have the Force direct him back again and again… or he could accept it. He smiled faintly, knowing, as he had back when he took his vows as an acolyte, before he’d passed even his first duan, that the acceptance wasn’t giving in or being defeated, it was peace and joy and honour and knowledge. It made his decision easy.

He gently pulled away from Chirrut and stripped off the white tunic and loose pants of a patient and slowly donned the robes of a Guardian. It felt oddly ceremonial, though there had been nothing beyond the ceremony of his vows back when he was a boy becoming an acolyte. He’d have laughed at his own fancy but the expression on Chirrut’s face told him that his husband felt the same thing lingering in the air around them.

When he was finally done and he settled the robes into place, he realised that he felt… whole for the first time in a very long time.

Chirrut’s hands came up and flitted over the front of his robes, twitching things unnecessarily into place. He then smiled. “Guardian Malbus.”

Baze considered those words. They still didn’t quite fit, feeling a bit like an old coat that needed letting out, but there was some comfort in them that he realised he had missed.

“Guardian Imwe,” he replied, letting his acceptance of this new-yet-old path be reflected in his voice.

Chirrut’s smile turned incandescent with delight. “We shall have to find you the makings of a new lightbow.”

Baze rumbled thoughtfully as they made their way towards the door. They were no longer limping – though the injury to Baze’s leg meant that his days of scrambling over rooftops were over – but they were moving slower than they normally did and Chirrut had tucked his free hand into the crook of Baze’s arm, a concession to both his physical state and Baze’s peace of mind. “I have some ideas how to improve it.”

He had refused to touch the lightbow he had carried out of the Temple when it fell. It had sat in the corner of their tiny room in NiJedha, gathering metaphorical dust. Not actual dust though. He might have rejected all that the lightbow stood for but Baze had been too well trained by the Temple to let a weapon gather dust and rust. He’d cleaned it every few months, making sure all its parts were in working order before putting it back in its corner. He remembered how his last blaster had overheated and been slagged and how Chirrut had quietly but pointedly reminded him that he had a replacement weapon. Thankfully, he’d found the repeater cannon shortly afterwards and avoided more pointed remarks and now, well, that lightbow had been lost along with the rest of NiJedha

Chirrut chuckled, his eyes shining with delight that Baze didn’t reject the idea of returning to the lightbow as he had so many times in the past. “With no Master La’a to flail his arms around and chide you for destroying a wall or a door?”

Baze’s laughter rang out as they walked down the corridor, making a few of the rebels they passed turn their heads curiously. “I’m not sure if I’ll miss that or not. Besides, I only destroyed a wall one time.”

“I will miss it,” Chirrut replied. “His voice always reached new and interesting octaves when he was chiding you, like he couldn’t believe his favourite student was being so rash. He always blamed me for leading you astray.”

“You did lead me astray,” Baze said mildly.

“You didn’t argue very much.”

Baze shrugged. “I didn’t mind being led astray.”

“Who’s being led astray?”

They both turned to find Cassian coming up behind them on his crutches, Jyn on one side and Bodhi on the other. Jyn had a faint expression of exasperation on her face that grew every time she looked over at Cassian, which Baze took to mean that the Captain was being stubborn. Bodhi had the stump of his left arm tucked tight against his side and he canted slightly in that direction, as though the loss had left him unbalanced and lopsided. Baze noticed that Cassian had planted himself on Bodhi’s left side and the young pilot eventually came to rest gently against the Rebel captain.

“Me,” Baze said.

“By me,” Chirrut added smugly. “Again.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Jyn said dryly. She then raised an eyebrow at Baze. “I see he got you into those.”

Baze smiled slightly. “I chose to wear them.”

Jyn arched an eyebrow. “Did you have a choice?”

“There is always a choice, little sister,” Baze replied.

“Did I miss something?” Bodhi said, looking between Jyn and the two Guardians.

Cassian’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Uh, Bodhi… Baze is wearing…”

“Guardian robes,” Bodhi said with a nod. “Yes, I know. But he’s a Guardian.”

They all looked at Bodhi strangely at that and he began to fidget until Cassian wrestled free of one of his crutches and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“What do you mean, Bodhi?” Chirrut asked, his voice gentle.

“Well, he… just… is,” Bodhi said, looking more and more like a startled rabbit as everyone stared at him.

“Huh,” Baze said contemplatively. “He’s Jedhan. How did the Masters miss him?”

Chirrut snorted. “The Masters were too busy looking inward in those final months, even years if we’re being honest. We would not have been caught so unprepared if they had listened more and looked less.”

“True,” Baze said with a resigned sigh.

“Did that make sense to anyone else?” Jyn asked, cocking an eyebrow at Cassian and Bodhi.

“No,” said Cassian while at the same time, Bodhi said, “Sort of?”

Chirrut began to smile as he glanced over at Baze. “Well? You were always the better teacher of the two of us.”

“Teach?” Cassian said suspiciously, his arm tightening around Bodhi’s shoulders. “Teach him what?”

“Bodhi is Force sensitive at the very least,” Chirrut said. “That’s why he knows that about Baze.”

“Me?” Bodhi squeaked, his eyes widening. “You mean… you want me to become a… a Guardian?”

Baze chuckled. “No, that decision is a long way off, little brother. But if Chirrut says you’re Force sensitive, then he is unlikely to be wrong. He very rarely was, back in the day.”

“You always knew as well,” Chirrut said, poking Baze in the side. “You were just never confident enough to tell the Masters. And the one time you disagreed with me, you were the one who was correct.”

Baze waved that away with the pretence of an irritated scowl. “It is your choice, Bodhi. Your path is always yours to choose.” He smiled ruefully. “However, from experience I can tell you, that if the Force wishes you to take this path, you will not be able to avoid it. You can fight it but it will just bring you back to the same point again and again until you get the message.”

Baze was surprised when it was Cassian who gave a startled jolt. The pilot stared him with a troubled expression then shook his head and turned his attention back to Bodhi, who was staring at the floor.

“Bodhi?” Cassian said worriedly.

The pilot’s face was a picture of apprehension and wistful hope when he looked up. “Could I really… be a Guardian?”

“There is little left to guard and precious few of us left,” Chirrut began.

“But it’s not lost,” Bodhi said and they were unsure if it was a question or a statement.

“No,” Baze said softly. “It is never lost while there are those who believe.” He snorted and nudged Chirrut. “Like this fool.”

Chirrut prodded him right back. “And you, you stubborn old bantha.”

Baze shrugged equably, willing to admit to it for the first time in years. “And me.”

“But… what about the Rebellion?” Bodhi asked. “They’re going to help me build a new arm and they said I might qualify for the X-Wing program and I… I want to stay. I want to help.”

“The two are not incompatible,” Baze replied.

“Then you two are willing to stay?” Cassian asked. “To help the Rebellion?”

Baze hesitated and Chirrut leaned against him. “It will not be like working for Saw Gerrera,” he said.

Cassian frowned. “Wait… you two worked for Gerrera?”

“Briefly,” Baze said. “He approached us and for a period of time our paths were… compatible. We did not part company on particularly amicable terms.”

“He did keep his part of the bargain,” Chirrut said. “At least until the end.”

“What bargain?” Cassian asked, frowning deeply.

“Food, medical supplies, whatever else he could spare for the orphans under our care,” Chirrut replied. “He was as generous as he could be with such things. We have no cause to complain about that.”

“And in return?”

“We aided him,” Baze said. “We knew the city better than many of his operatives and we had been fighting against the Empire in our own small way. Gerrera was pulling together many of the disparate rebels in the city. We were not the only ones he sought out.” He grumbled under his breath for a moment. “I suspected we would not last long allied with him. He was willing to use methods that we were not. It was only a matter of time.”

Cassian nodded slowly then his lips twitched in a small smile. “I imagine he found you two very frustrating.”

Chirrut laughed. “Oh, he did. And he didn’t much like me.”

“You unnerved him,” Baze said dryly. “You saw too much of him.”

Jyn nodded in understanding. “He wouldn’t have liked that.”

“Explains why he put a bag over your head anyway,” Cassian said with an edge of teasing in his voice that Baze thoroughly approved of. The Rebel captain was far too dour and he said that with full knowledge that it was a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Chirrut harrumphed but he was grinning far too broadly for anyone to believe he was put out. The others chuckled then Bodhi swallowed audibly.

“I… I’d like to do it.”

 “Wonderful,” Chirrut said, then he turned his grin on Baze. “Do you still remember the lessons of the first duan, my love?”

Baze snorted. “I’m not that old, Chirrut. Besides, you were always better at zama-shiwo than I was.” He gave Bodhi a sharp look. “And with his build, you will be the better teacher for that.”

“Zama-what?” Bodhi said hesitantly.

“You saw the way Chirrut fights?” Baze said. “That.”

“Oh,” Bodhi said and while he sounded rather intimidated, there was a thread of interest and excitement in his voice as well. Baze was not surprised. Chirrut had been one of the finest fighters the Temple had ever produced.

“Think of it as both a useful skill and a form of meditation,” Baze said, reading Bodhi’s apprehension correctly. “When done correctly, zama-shiwo centres both the mind and the body.”

He caught Chirrut’s smile and audibly grumped at his husband. Chirrut just laughed in return and Baze shook his head. It still felt strange, talking about this, and even stranger to be thinking of actually teaching someone. The robes still felt just not quite right and there was an itch in the back of his mind that was urging him to rage against all that had happened.

But… overlying all of that was the sense of peace, of balance, he’d lost during the Imperial attack on the Temple, when he’d seen the dead and dying, when he’d realised the futility of fighting the faceless, remorseless Stormtroopers of the Empire. That terrible moment when he’d lost track of Chirrut and every body lying on the ground had suddenly looked like him.

It didn’t matter that the path he was walking now was still a little strange, still rocky and uncertain. It didn’t matter because it was the right path. He knew that because he felt at peace. The path would smooth out, would become familiar and certain. The robes would stop feeling like a stranger’s skin. It was ironic that it had taken such pain and suffering, such agony and fear to bring him back to the Force. Maybe he really was just the hard-headed, stubborn old bantha that Chirrut teased him about that needed such extremes to remind him of what was important.