The Art of Broken Pieces

Porg Nest Vest

Rey lasted two more days on medicated recovery, glad the biotelemetry droid made suggestions of how and when to step down her painkillers. All she had to do was press a button, and it administered a gradual step down of doses. It had finally stopped screaming every time she moved, and Rey took advantage of this to finally sit upright in bed.

Lunch waddled from the top corner of her bed, where he'd taken to sleeping, and with a grunt and a hop, rolled onto her lap. He settled in and fluffed out his downy feathers, which smelled mysteriously of soap. RD must have been busy.

Rey turned to peer at the little nest he'd made on her bed, which appeared to be primarily composed of one large green scrap of fabric. Blood-stained fabric.

"Ugh, Spoon," she said. The little thing must have taken the bloody thing as a trophy.

She grabbed it, preparing to throw it off the bed, and stopped.

It was crumpled, stained in blood and stuck all over with porg feathers, but once it had been a rather well-made vest. It looked almost new beneath the stains, stitching still tight and intact, color still deep and vibrant. She frowned. It wasn't quite the right size to have been Leia's. Maybe it belonged to someone else who'd been in the resistance?

Either way, it was a good piece, if it could be cleaned. Those pockets would be great for stashing tools.

Rey decided to make putting the vest in the sanitizer her first goal for getting out of this bunk. She carefully shifted her legs over the side, using the wall to balance. Then, when she was sure her feet were firmly planted, she stood up.

A rush of dizziness came first, but she beat it back, gritting her teeth until her blood pressure equalized and her vision cleared. Slowly, carefully, she picked her way toward the door. She'd have to hold onto the bulkhead the whole way, but she was 79% certain she could make it without passing out.

The telemetry droid floated behind, beeping soft anxieties.

Ben had made hovering uselessly around Rey a full time job until she had summarily evicted him in a fit of drug-induced irritation. Since then he had managed to distract himself around the Falcon with various tasks, minor repairs, and a great deal of plotting Hux's bloody downfall.

He was sitting sideways in the co-pilot's chair, long legs draped over one arm as he looked over navigation data when he heard the medi-droid's worried beeping. He reached out, sensing Rey's determination--and dizziness. Swinging his legs down quickly, Ben hurried out of the cockpit and down the hallway just in time to catch her elbow as she stumbled and nearly fell into one of the walls.

"What are you doing up?" He scolded her. His eyes caught onto what she was holding and he paused, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Ah... where did you find that?" He asked awkwardly.

She considered pulling away on principle, but Ben's steadiness helped mute the frantic little half-spin of her vision. He also looked like he was prepared to toss her over a shoulder if she pulled away.

Ben was making a pained expression as he gazed down at the bloody vest, and Rey suddenly realized the blood must have been hers. This must have been one of the things he'd used to stanch the flow.

"Lunch was using it as a nest," she said. "A few rounds in the sanitizer will probably clean most of the blood out. It doesn't look it, but it's almost new, and I'm down at least two shirts now, so..."

She trailed off. Ben was giving her a funny look, like he was struggling to understand the mentality of someone who wouldn't just buy a new vest if they wanted one. She set her jaw, prepared to pull away and argue if she needed to.