The Art of Broken Pieces

Schrodinger's Porgs

Far more accustomed to giving orders to soldiers than to children, Ben could feel the fear rolling off of them as he tried to get them organized, frustration building as the children slinked along the walls, heading for rooms as far from him as they could get. The common room of the wayhome was wide and cluttered, tattered chairs scattered around a central pod that held a holo table with cards strewn across its dirty surface.

Ben's lip curled with disgust. The traders and slavers had not been neat people. The doors the children had disappeared through led off of the central room, presumably to bunks and to whatever form of kitchen and facilities the filthy building had to offer.

Kneeling at Rey's side, Ben lifted her easily back into his arms, where her weight was becoming a familiar thing. Her head fell against his shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven. The Chiss girl was the only one who had not slid away, though she was watching him with suspicious eyes from what she presumably considered a safe distance.

She pointed with her chin towards a door to the right, gaze tracking him like a wounded animal. "She can rest in there."

Ben kicked the door open and carried Rey to the small bed along one wall, laying her down carefully. Reaching a hand toward the room behind him, he force-pulled the pack to his side and rummaged through it for the second med kit. Though the more serious of her injuries was treated, at least for the moment, infection might creep in through her other wounds.

He sliced off the sleeve of her shirt, pulling back the rough fabric to expose the blaster burn on her shoulder. Knowing Rey, this was the only chance that he would get to satisfactorily treat her before she woke and became difficult again.

As he laid the bacta patch down over her skin and smoothed it into place, she stirred slightly, brows drawing together in distress. Perhaps some dream or a distant acknowledgment of pain, he couldn't tell which. For the moment, her mind was closed to him.

Without thinking, Ben brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair from her face, tucking it back behind her ear. Her skin was clammy and pale, and his fingers lingered on her face, wishing he knew how to soothe away whatever demons haunted her. The rebellious fire that always burned in her was gone, leaving her seeming smaller and more delicate than he had ever seen. His hand suddenly seemed too large in comparison, clumsy and unsure.

Ben quickly pulled away, settling down more permanently on the floor beside the bed. Leaning back against it he finally took the time to take a closer look at his own wound. The shirt he had thrown on was stained with drying blood. He grimaced, knowing he would hear about it later, when Rey was feeling more herself. Pulling it off and tossing it aside, he carefully cut away the makeshift bandages, peeling them back where blood had crusted against the edges of the wound. Fresh pain spiked through his senses, and he didn't resist it, letting it distract him from his thoughts of Rey.

"I found some clothes..." A timid voice broke his concentration as he was finishing up, and as he jerked his eyes up.

The Chiss girl drew back to halfway hid behind the door frame. Cautiously she held out her discovery, tossing it across the floor towards him as though he were a wild animal she was trying to tame. Before he could respond, she disappeared as silently as she had come.

The clothes that she had found were drab and sand-colored, shapeless tunic and pants with a wide sash that had no doubt belonged to one of the slavers. Plain, simple, and he had to admit reluctantly, probably big enough to fit him.

For the moment, he set them aside and settled in with arms draped across his knees to wait for Rey to wake.

The silhouettes of the other scavengers faded as the sandstorm's winds picked up, and their adult legs carried them more quickly toward Nima outpost. "Stop!" Rey called, and got a mouthful of sand for it. "Wait, please!"