Chirrut had never seen the stars in his life but he had never thought of that as a problem. He might never had seen the stars in the way humans talked about seeing, with eyes and all that, but he saw them every time he travelled through space, every time he thought about the Force and willed it to help him keep the faith. They were so bright in their incandescence, in their will to burn bright no matter the consequences, that how anyone could not feel them to their very core was always something Chirrut could never quite understand. No, Chirrut felt their brightness, sensed their purpose and in that manner, he saw them.
He was watching the stars tonight, his chest breathing slowly as he took in the earthen scent of Yavin IV and heard in the distance the rustle of Rebellion hopefuls in the midst of waking up or going to bed. It was one of those crossover hours, when you were either up ready to take on the day to come or laying your head down preparing to sleep the previous day away. Baze had gone off to do the latter but for some reason Chirrut did not feel like joining him tonight. He had heard about the fuss with Jyn, her little stunt with the X-Wing that everyone had labelled reckless and dangerous. It had not been dangerous, not truly. Chirrut had faith in Jyn, as he had faith in all his friends. He hoped that she was not spending tonight angry at herself, though he knew that this scenario was more than likely.
The blind monk tapped absentmindedly on his knee and hummed to himself. He remembered this particular song from somewhere in his childhood as well, though as with all of his memories before the temple they were hazy and he was never sure if he was remembering them correctly. In his mind's eye he remembers a man, one he is fairly sure is his father, singing to his mother. He does not remember the words - Chirrut thinks he was not old enough then to understand them and so they did not settle - but he remembers the tune. What were those words? Something about true love in the moonlight? Or was it starlight? There was something about walking with those your loved with the sand between your toes, moonbeams throwing gentle spotlights. Was that the right song? No, he could never remember the words.
Either way, it didn't matter. The tune said it all. In the gentle way it lilted and hung in the air for the ear to pick up. Chirrut smiled to himself as he hummed, the stars glistening above him.
He had hummed the tune two more times when he heard a voice far behind him and the smile on his lips widened. It was Jyn. Her voice was so very faint, barely carrying on the breeze, but he knew its inflections. She was talking slowly tonight, and it sounded as though she was choosing her words carefully.
Chirrut made sure not to listen. It was not right for him to listen if the words were not his to recieve. He continued to hum, and if the tune seemed a little louder than before… that was just as well.
A few seconds later more words drifted on the wind, words that Chirrut could not ignore for all his humming.
"… you don't need to apologise to me, please -"
"No, I do. I was angry… so angry… I just - why can't I say what I mean?! I… I get angry when I feel helpless, Jyn."
Chirrut stayed very still as he heard Captain Andor's voice, his words more passionate than Jyn's had been, but only by a fraction.
"But it wasn't your fault, it was my decision. Please, you trusted me and I took it too far -'
"And I wasn't there when it looked like it was getting dangerous for you - I was three, five moves behind -"
"It isn't your job to be a step behind me -"
"But I said I would be there, that I would always be there -"
"I never asked you to make that oath -"
"You didn't need to ask me!"
There was silence then, the sound of the soft breeze tumbling through the trees, filling in the lull in their conversation and Chirrut realised with a start that his humming had dropped to a level so quiet he barely heard it himself. Ever slightly ashamed with himself for allowing their conversation to get the better of him, he quietly stood to his feet, hoping they would not notice him or that at the very least, his steady movements would not cause any alarm.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jyn's voice whispered.
"I swore that oath long before our flight today, long before Scarif, back to when I was there on Jedha. I swore I would be there, have your back. You did not need to ask for that."
There was another long silence as, every footstep measured and careful, Chirrut began to walk in the direction whence he came, a different one from which Jyn and Cassian had approached.
"It's what friends do, right?" he heard Jyn say.
Another long silence, as Chirrut moved forward about two feet, no more. When he had progressed forward yet another two feet and still no words passed between them Chirrut used the opportunity to speed up, hoping that it meant he was somewhat in the clear.
If Chirrut had been a lesser person, and had instead taken the time to spy on his friends he would have sensed that Jyn and Cassian had indeed stopped talking, but not out of anger or a bitter end to their conversation, but because they were standing so close together they dense rays of moonlight would have had trouble squeezing through. Their fingers were entwined and their foreheads were pressed together.
They stood like that for a long time before Jyn pulled away a fraction of a centimetre to turn to look up at the night sky.
"Stars," she said. "You know, Luke mentioned something about how he liked the stars. Good to clear the head, he said."
"Funny," Cassian whispered. "Bodhi said pretty much the same thing."
Jyn turned to look at Cassian and if Chirrut had been there he would have felt the same burning heat that came from even the greenest stars, one direct and true. She pressed her forehead back against his and smiled. Feeling nothing but utter contentment in this moment, Captain Cassian Andor slowly shut his eyes.