OOM: The Job

[iprotectyou]

The job pays well, at least. That's the only good thing about it.

The intel Baze was given was shaky at best, and while his target goes down without a fight, the Selkath bodyguard she employed is a surprise. An aquatic species resembling a catfish with aqua-colored skin, the Selkath fights viciously, tackling Baze from above and mauling his arm with venom-tipped claws.

Baze bellows, swinging his repeater cannon up and around to fire upon the creature. He pumps blaster bolts into him, stumbling away when the Selkath disengages. Baze didn't expect the claws. To a Selkath, use of their retractable claws is dishonorable, a sign of madness. Baze's arm burns, and he grits his teeth against the pain. He knows he has to find an antidote, and fast.

He staggers back home, back to Chirrut.

Comments

[iprotectyou]

Chirrut is so angry, Baze almost flinches at his tone.

"Oh," Baze says, with another huff of painful breath. That does make sense. Chirrut would have had to pound on his chest pretty hard to bring Baze back, he realizes. And how difficult that must have been for a blind man, much less Chirrut, who is much smaller than Baze.

He wants to roll over, to lean on his side, so he can better see Chirrut, but Baze doesn't dare move. For one, it would be painful, and for two, it would interrupt Chirrut in whatever he's doing to make Baze more comfortable.

"I'm sorry," Baze says, finally.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut huffs as he rummages through their supplies, hunting for soft sleep clothes for Baze.

"I'm not angry at you." This is... mostly the truth. He's just angry, fear and stress transmutating into something more pure. Baze is just part of it. The closest part.

"Here, we'll get these on you - pants first, I need to clean that wound." He's holding a deeply mismatched set of clothing. He pauses, frowning, halfway back to the bed.

"I... I don't think we have anything for pain, I... didn't think, I'm sorry. I'll get some later, and food..."

[iprotectyou]

Baze almost calls Chirrut's bluff. Almost. Baze is tempted, but he knows that doing so will only make his friend madder, and Baze isn't about to kick the hornets' nest.

Baze grunts as he struggles to his feet. He crosses to Chirrut with a plodding tread, and takes the clothes with his good hand. "Thank you," Baze says, swaying on his feet. He starts to strip from his jumpsuit, his hand catching on one of the pockets. "I don't need anything for the pain. I just don't want you to leave again. I... I can't. I can't bear having you gone."

[idontneedluck]

"You're going to regret saying that when you're able to feel it properly." Chirrut warns, worry thick in his voice. He's moved to support Baze though, keeping him from toppling over altogether and hurrying the process along.

"... You do know I'd always come back, don't you?"

[iprotectyou]

With Chirrut's help, Baze manages to strip from his jumpsuit, leaving it on the floor, and step into the pants. His movements are stiff and clumsy, hundred by the scarf wrapped tightly around his aching arm.

"Maybe I will," he says, instead of answering Chirrut's question. But, unfortunately for Baze, it's a question that deserves an answer. He faces his friend, wishing not for the first time that he could see Baze's sober expression. His tone will have to carry it forward for him.

"Yes," he says, with the strength of his faith in his voice. He may not believe in the Force anymore, but he believes in Chirrut. "And I will always come back for you."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut knows that tone, and feels both warmth and pain. It used to be he wasn't the sole focus of that faith. He doesn't know how to make it otherwise.

"Good, you wouldn't like it if I had to hunt you down." Chirrut tugs Baze back towards the bed, insistently. "Now, sit down, lie down, I don't care but you might - I'll go fetch the kit and I'll put a proper bandage on that arm."

[iprotectyou]

Baze sits down at first, stubbornly keeping his head up. Unfortunately for him, the walk across the room has made him both dizzy and winded, so he scoots down onto the bed in a lying position before Chirrut comes back.

When Chirrut does return with the kit, Baze lays a hand on his arm. "If you have to leave to get food before the markets close," he says, the words slurred from exhaustion, "I won't stop you. Just wait until I fall asleep."

[idontneedluck]

"As if you would sleep knowing I'm at the market, I've heard that complaint often enough." Chirrut retorts, kneeling beside the bed and working on undoing the knots he tied in haste. "Besides, there's enough."

It's a slight falsehood. There is, however, enough for Baze.

[iprotectyou]

"I don't know about that," Baze says, drawing a breath through his nose just because he can. He doesn't want to have that much difficulty breathing ever again. He yawns, letting Chirrut do what he will with Baze's arm--and wincing occasionally, especially when the wounds are exposed to the open air. "I'm pretty drained. Fighting for your life will do that to you. Even though you did most of the fighting."

[idontneedluck]

His cleaning holds a bit of a ruthless streak - if they can avoid infection, all the better.

"Well, don't stop now, I don't like how deep this is." Chirrut huffs as he slathered the wound with salve and starts re-binding it.

[iprotectyou]

Baze hisses in displeasure, wanting very much to pull his arm away from the torture Chirrut inflicts. The larger man keeps as still as he can, however, knowing that if Chirrut doesn't have the chance to be ruthless, the wound may get infected. Still, it hurts.

"I should have looked up," Baze says wearily. "I'm sorry. I know better."

[idontneedluck]

"Hush, I'm not Mas..." He freezes on the name, and backtracks. "You couldn't have known. Though I would prefer you don't do this again, if either of us had been less quick..."

He trails off again, and doesn't bother to try to find new words. He's going to need a long time to forget the horror of finding Baze so still.

He ties off the last of the bandages, neatly tucking the ends under so they can't unravel. Putting the kit back to rights keeps his hands busy for a while longer.

[iprotectyou]

Baze knows what name Chirrut was about to say, and the older man wishes the younger one had just said it. Baze thinks Master Sheotar is still alive, subduing stormtroopers and fighting the good fight, like he and Chirrut are. But some days, it's difficult to keep it up, and they barely scrape by, eking out a living. Days like today.

"It won't happen again," Baze grumbles, resting his arm againsr his chest. "I still need to talk to my contact, and get paid for the job. If I can, I'll try to squeeze more out of them for the Selkath."

[idontneedluck]

"Good. They should have warned you." It's bad enough that Baze takes these jobs - they shouldn't also come with bad intelligence.

"There. I'll check on it again in the morning. Let me get some food in you before you sleep. I think there's porridge that shouldn't take too long to make." And, added side benefit, he doesn't have to do much more cooking than heating water.

[iprotectyou]

"They should have," Baze agrees, his words more a grumble. He snags Chirrut's robes with his good hand. "Is there enough for both of us?"

[idontneedluck]

"There's enough." He repeats. It doesn't make it any more true, but he's not the one injured - he can skip a meal just fine. "Now let me cook, or you'll never get a meal, you bantha."

He gently pulls himself free, and collects his mug on the way over to their tiny kitchen. The 'tea' has long-since gone cold, but he sips it anyway. "There isn't much salt, so it's going to a little bland."

[iprotectyou]

"That's fine," Baze says, trying to track Chirrut's progress through their tiny kitchen despite the sand weighing down the larger man's eyelids. "Bland food is better than no food."

He can't tell if Chirrut is lying, and that bothers Baze. Still, he does have faith in his friend. If Chirrut says there's enough, there's enough. Baze yawns, and gives into the temptation to close his eyes. His arm and chest ache fiercely, but there's nothing he can do about that, and he's ever so tired. Maybe Chirrut will forgive him a quick nap. Maybe...

His breathing steadies, an easy rhythm, so different than the harsh panting from before. Every inhale is agony still, but that doesn't keep him from dozing off.

[idontneedluck]

When Baze goes quiet, Chirrut freezes, listening hard. But no, there's breathing, steady if not as easy as he would like. Asleep, then.

Chirrut quietly, fervently offers his thanks to the Force - the misses today were too close to be anything but the Force's aid. That done, he starts making the porridge, everything laid out so he can get through the task with a minimum of fumbling. Well, more fumbling today, as his nerves are a bit shot after thinking he'd come too late. Soon the scent of cooking grain fills the air, and he rummages through their stores to try and find something to mix in to lend the mash some flavor.

[iprotectyou]

Baze sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning in a bed too small for his frame. His sleep is just deep enough to suffer nightmares, and when he sees the Selkath crash down upon him, claws biting into his flesh--

"Chirrut!" Baze cries. He sits up straight in bed, clutching his heart and panting, his eyes wild. It takes him a few moments to realize where he is, and to remember that he's safe, and not poisoned anymore.

He spots his friend in their tiny kitchen, and relaxes a fraction. Baze's arm is on fire, tight bands of it digging into his forearm, and that's a sufficient distraction from sleeping.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut turns at the noise, spoon in one hand.

"Baze? Baze, lie back down, I still need to tape your ribs. I'll be right there." He's managed to find some dried fruit, so he mixes that in with the vain hope it might make the whole more palatable. Munching on the last handful, he spoons up a bowl for Baze and heads over.

"How do you feel?" He doesn't bother hiding the worry in his voice, worry is a given at this point.

[iprotectyou]

Baze struggles into a lying position again just as Chirrut comes over with the bowl. The larger man sighs, forcing himself up to lean on the wall.

"Like bantha poodu," Baze says, drumming up a smile for his friend from Force knows where. "I can't lie down--I have to sit up to eat. You can tape up my ribs after that."

He takes the bowl of porridge and starts wolfing it down, but soon stops. Baze gives his friend a searching look. "Chirrut Imwe, where is your bowl?"

[idontneedluck]

"I'll eat later, I need to strap your ribs first." Chirrut dismisses with a vague wave of his hand. "You'll be in trouble if one of those cracks moves on to a full break, which it might. I wasn't being gentle." When he hands off the bowl he then heads over to where they keep their supplies, searching for the tape.

[iprotectyou]

"You'd better," Baze grumbles, and returns to scarfing down the porridge. The fight for his life burned a lot of energy, and he's veritably starving. Even though the porridge is blander than bland, it's still food. His spoon clinks against the empty bowl, and he sets it down on his belly, disappointed that it's empty.

Curling his toes, he watches Chirrut putter about the room and mess around with their supplies. "I don't blame you, you know. For cracking them. You did what you had to do."

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut freezes.

He stands, tape and padding held loosely in his hand, his head bowed as he breathes. Under his breath, he clings to one of the old chants, the stress and pain of the day threatening to undo him. If he thinks about it too hard, he can feel the crack of bone under his hands again.

"I know."

[iprotectyou]

Baze watches him for a few moments. Then the larger man hauls himself out of bed--slowly, ever so painfully slow--and pads over to his smaller friend. He loops his arms around Chirrut's thin shoulders--so strong, so proud, so bent with grief and sorrow and anger--and leans on him, heavily.

Words won't work here, Baze knows. Much as he'd like to, he can't simply tell Chirrut that he's all right, that they're safe now. That despite the pain Baze is in, he's glad to be alive and glad Chirrut is with him and just generally glad--happy, even. He sniffles, tears welling in his eyes, and he tries to blink them away.