greymichaela:

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Chirrut’s face is blank when he’s told the news. Baze can’t detect any hint of emotion on his usually mobile features. Irreversible. Permanent blindness within six months. No known cure. The healer trails awkwardly to a stop and hesitates, glancing at Baze for his cue.

Baze shifts his weight. “Chirrut?”

“All is as the Force wills it,” Chirrut says, and rises. “Thank you, Master T’ron.”

He turns and is gone before the healer can reply, robes swishing in finality.

Baze gives the healer an awkward nod and scrambles to catch up. “Chirrut, wait.”

Chirrut glances at him when Baze falls in step beside him. His eyes are cloudier these days, the cataracts advancing ever more rapidly, it seems, but Chirrut’s feet are still quick and unhesitating, his stride as confident as ever.

“We have lessons,” he says when Baze can’t think of anything to fill the silence.

“But—don’t you want to—” Baze hesitates. Grieve? Mourn your loss? You’re going blind, Chirrut!

Chirrut’s face shutters. “I want to go to class.”

He quickens his steps and Baze gets the message.

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tastewithouttalent:

“Is that Baze?” Chirrut calls as
Baze pushes open the door to the room the other has claimed for himself,
ducking to clear the frame of the too-low doorway made for non-human forms, or
at least humans shorter than he is himself.

“You know
it’s me,” Baze tells him, stepping clear of the door so he can let it swing
shut behind him. “Don’t try to give me that lost blind man routine, you knew I
was coming the whole way down the hallway.”

Chirrut
tips his head up and sideways, angling his chin so Baze can catch a glimpse of
the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I was just welcoming you back,”
he says. “I didn’t think you’d make it home for another hour or two.”

“No point
in wasting time.” Baze sets his gun aside, balancing it carefully upright
alongside the door where he can grab it at a moment’s notice of the latch
behind him giving way before he ducks his head to twist open the fastenings
down the front of his armored vest. “You get into too much trouble for me to
leave you alone long.”

“Your
concern for me is touching,” Chirrut smiles, still with his head tipped back to
listen to what Baze is doing behind him rather than seeing it. “I am
able to protect myself, you know.”

“I know,” Baze
says, tossing his vest aside with far less concern than he gave to his weapon.
“That’s what worries me.”

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