The Art of Broken Pieces

Local Porgs Flee in Fear

Leaning back in his chair, Poe let them have their moment, time to process and time to consider before he called them back to order and the truly exhausting part of the day began.

It was hours before they came to the place where they had discrete options on which to vote. Execution, exile, imprisonment, or rehabilitation. Hours of argument and discussion, though Poe heard his words circulated enough to give him some hope. For Rey, for the future of the new Alliance.

His throat was raw from calling over them, bringing them to order again and again, mediating, organizing. Finally silence prevailed, and Poe stood a last time, asking for the senate to cast their votes. As each senator quietly tapped the datapad at their seat, Poe looked again at Rey's pale face. The hours had taken a toll on her, though she had stayed firmly and vocally in favor of Ben's rehabilitation throughout the day. She was pale, and her fingers had a white-knuckled grip on the arms of her chair as they waited for the final counts.

The numbers climbed steadily in each column on the little datapad Rey could see in Finn's lap. As a non-senator, she hadn't been permitted a vote, though she knew both her friends had tallied in favor of rehabilitation.

At last, the numbers began to slow, and Rey watched as the bars representing Imprisonment and Exile fell away.

She shuddered. The column for execution ticked up slowly, and just behind it, the column for Rehabilitation. The margin was closing. Slowly, she watched the numbers begin to shift as those still considering cast their ballots between the two clear contenders.

She stared at Rehabilitation. Watched it creep up with her heart in her throat. It was so close now...

When the votes stabilized and the final counts closed, Poe was watching Rey. It almost didn't seem to register with her, her expression stunned, numbed by the ordeal. Her eyes slowly lifted to him and he smiled at her, leaning back in his chair as he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

They had done it.

The select senate burst into chaos, conversations and shocked voices tumbling over each other. Poe still wasn't sure how he felt about releasing Ben Solo on the galaxy, despite his own words he didn't completely trust that it was the wisest choice. But he had hope. For now, that would have to be enough.

Ben Solo was going to be rehabilitated, rather than executed. It had come to a margin of four points.

Rey shut down.

Poe stood, confirmed the sentence, and Ben was led from the room as the rest of the council set to the arduous task of deciding exactly what that rehabilitation would look like.

There were votes for service, for a pilgrimage to planets where his influence had caused a negative impact, for a continuation of his work hunting down the First Order holdouts. Rey barely absorbed it. She didn't speak, didn't weigh in an opinion, didn't even notice at first when the session adjourned. Not until Finn was standing beside her, offering her a hand up.

She took it. And when she stood, she was almost surprised that her body didn't float away. Her legs felt like nothing. Her face prickled.

"Rey?" Finn said. "You don't look so good."

Don't listen to him, you look gorgeous." Poe came up on her other side, bracing her elbow with one hand. "Of course, you also look like you're about to pass out." He gave her a concerned look as she swayed between him and Finn.

"Go on, Ace. Go find him." He smiled at her, eyes tired. "He's all yours now."

She had the wherewithal to hug her friends, though she couldn't bring herself to say anything as inadequate as "Thank you." She just kissed them each on the cheek and wandered into the bright sunlight.

A hot breeze hit her, blowing the dress around her ankles like a frothing wave. Suddenly, the whole jungle of Yavin IV was sprawled out before her, studded with Massassi temple tops and sparkling green and blue water. Below, hangars and new flagstones, the winding paths woven into the texture of the landscape.

All of it teemed with people, with aliens, with droids and machines and beasts all going about their purposes. Life. Death. Everything.

A flock of avians burst from the trees, wheeling, free.