The Art of Broken Pieces

31 Porgs

They spent a Jakku week in space, drifting between fueling stations where Ben kept scarce and Rey refused gifts and discounts from those who either recognized the Falcon, or who recognized her. For the whole week, she didn't see him. He slept in the gun turret and must have come down while she was getting rest. She'd wake to food missing, the showers in the head changed to a scalding temperature, and a flurry of resentful porgs pouting up at the turret ladders.

At a rim station called Grafa Tak, she'd stumbled across a clothing vendor. At first she passed it by, barely noticing, and ducked into a parts shop for some replacement copper wiring and a few other repair bits.

She wouldn't have noticed it at all if she hadn't stopped for food. After so long eating rehydrated rations, the smell of baking bread had reached out and snared her, drawing her into the shop. She'd sampled cheeses and breads and sweet rolls until she realized the owners knew who she was and would have given her a bit of everything without payment. Grateful, and a little embarrassed by the attention, she'd insisted upon buying two loaves of bread, a wheel of creamy lavender colored cheese, and two rolls stuffed with spices and some unidentifiable chopped fruit.

Weighed down by her purchases, she'd left the bakery just as the Ithorian across the corridor shook out a large, navy shirt. Her mind flashed to the too-small black shirt, and Ben's bare ankles. He'd need something else to wear. After the neglect of captivity, Ben's own clothing had been beyond saving. He seemed just vain enough for the lack of properly-fitting clothes to edge close to humiliation. Though, some humility couldn't hurt...

She'd walked a few feet back toward the docking quay when conscience slowed her feet. Snoke had humiliated Ben. He'd used that sort of grinding-down to exacerbate his apprentice's angry pride, much the same way Ben's hammering of his own wound that day in the forest had seemed to incite a pain-induced rage in him.

And he deserved at least something as basic as a good set of fitting clothes. Rey, who'd never owned more than what was on her back at any given time, now had several sets of clothing, most of them chosen by Leia or one of the other women on her staff. Rey had pilfered a few basics from the Resistance bases, but everything she owned was earth-toned and functional.

Except the dress. She had one dress, foisted upon her by Leia for an ambassadorial mission to Bespin. It was made from a thick indigo fabric, and though the collar had been high in the front, it winged up into points at the back of her neck and that opened in a long, revealing slit down to her lower back. The front had long, narrow pleats down the bodice, which fit snugly to her hips and then flared into a glittering skirt studded with crystal shards. She hadn't recognized herself in the mirror, with the intricate braids Leia had done.

"I always wanted a daughter," she'd said, putting the last pin in place.

"I always wanted a mother," Rey had responded, and they'd refused to look at each other for the next few moments, afraid to see the gleam of tears.

Despite general assurances that she didn't look ridiculous, the dress had made her feel exposed and clumsy. She'd been unnerved when Finn stared and said, "Yeah, good. Fine. You look fine. I mean good." And when Poe frowned, she felt even more nervous. When he asked Leia, "You sure Calrissian's going to give her back?" Rey had wanted to call off the whole thing.

She'd secured the funding they'd needed for new fighter ships, but she still didn't understand why she'd needed a dress to do that. But even Rey had strong preferences for clothing, so it was only fair to put Ben at ease in that small way.

She bought the shirt, which was a deep, twilight navy, and asked the shopkeeper to help her estimate the right size trousers based on height and build.