Author's Notes…

Hope everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving had a happy one! I planned out the rest of the story, so it'll be done shortly. I'm thinking a week, but it could be two weeks. Depends on how it goes. Either way, there's only a few chapters and an epilogue left.

Rally ho!

How to Save a Life

Chapter Seven

The Piece

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

"I don't think it's necessary to hold me up for this! You're more than tall enough!"

In response, Ben shifted his grip around her waist and hoisted her up even higher.

Rey shook her head with a laugh and placed the star they'd chosen on the highest bough of their tree. Ben slowly set her down, his hands traveling the length of her body, stopping just short of her breasts. It made her breath catch.

His hands drifted away with a last brush over the line of her hips. Her skin was tingling as they stood back to admire their handiwork. Red, silver, and white had been the theme for their tree. A red buffalo plaid rug fringed with faux fur was beneath it. Unique ornaments as well as typical ones glittered prettily around the lights they'd strung.

"…It's nice," Ben murmured.

"It's more than nice," she said, turning around in his arms. "It's bloody fantastic."

"You get more British the more excited or tired you are."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, but her arms found their way around his shoulders. "Stop saying that. It's not as if I'm trying to smother my 'British-ness'. You're being ridiculous."

"I don't know," he disagreed. There was a twinkle in his eye that made her lightly smack him. "Stop doing that."

"Stop doing what?"

"Hitting me."

"Don't give me a reason to." She pressed her lips to his. "And don't be such a baby about it. I barely touched you."

"I know." He pulled her directly against him. His lips traced the length of her jaw. "But it's very easy to rile you up."

"Oh, psh." Rey's breath had caught—stayed that way as he nuzzled kisses to the side of her neck where it met her shoulder.

"Is this all right…?" he whispered against her skin.

Her throat beyond tight to speak words, she nodded slowly. His mouth touched the hollow of her throat with a hint of tongue. She groaned, her skin prickling all over with desire. But he was already pulling away with a secretive smile.

"You're a tease," she declared.

"…It's more fun that way, I think," he said.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows that led out onto the patio. Snow was falling heavily. It was a nice ambiance, what with the tree and the fire going. Rey herself had donned comfortable clothing, since dinner was a few hours ago. A large, soft sweater, fleece-lined black tights, and thick slipper socks that came up over the ankle with two pompoms a piece dangling at their sides.

"We should find something to do," she announced.

"Like what?" he asked curiously.

"I found some puzzles and board games earlier," she replied, heading in that direction. She pulled open a closet to reveal the stacks of both filling every nook and cranny. There wasn't extra room anywhere. She liked it.

Maybe, once upon a time, the Solos had enjoyed such things.

Ben groaned his disapproval.

"Come now," she said with a mischievous smile over her shoulder. "Don't be such a spoilsport."

"How am I a spoilsport when we haven't played anything?" He drew the chairs each of them had claimed for themselves closer to the fire and the coffee table there.

"I have a feeling," she said. "Do you want to do a puzzle?"

"Not if you don't want me to shoot myself," he grumbled.

Her fingers stilled over the cardboard boxes. He didn't notice, and, her heart wrenching, she stepped aside so he could see the selection better.

"Yahtzee," he said without looking.

She hadn't played it before, but she pulled it down carefully, nudging the other boxes when they began to fall to fill the void. She shut the door and set the game on the table. The edges of it were frayed, the colors muted with age. It was definitely a few decades old.

"You'll have to teach me the rules," she said. "I'm going to make us some cocoa."

His brows climbed up his forehead. "Yahtzee? Never?"

"Never," she confirmed.

She reached into the cabinet for two giant mugs. There was a Keurig on the counter, so the place had to have been visited by his parents still. After filling both with hot water, she poured the cocoa packets into each.

"I want a lot of marshmallows," Ben called from the living room.

Finding that very endearing, Rey smiled as she stacked his high. There was an unopened bag in the cupboard, and it wasn't expired yet. She forewent them herself, carrying the steaming mugs into the living room, slipper-ed feet padding on the hardwood.

"Here we are," she said, handing him his and settling into her chair.

There was official paper laid out on the table, along with a cup and five pieces of dice. He'd carefully cradled the bottom of the box in the top one. She supposed that must be where the die were going.

"You're going to rue the day," he said.

"So you've set me up for failure?" She cupped her hands around her mug and took a careful sip. It was still hot enough to burn the tip of her tongue.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But who knows? You could be good at it."

She kicked his foot under the table, and he snickered.

"There were some pens left in here, but I don't know if they have any ink…" He went through four out of five and tsked. "We'll have to share a pen."

"I think we'll manage," Rey said wickedly. "Your marshmallows are melting."

"Yes. That's the point," he returned with a sidelong glance. She wrinkled her nose at him teasingly.

"All right…" he murmured. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Do you see the left side of the paper?"

"No," she said. "I'm blind, I can't see. Help me." She clutched her neck.

"That was the most horrifying Southern accent I have ever heard," he said flatly. "Stick to British."

"I'll show you what's British," she muttered.

"I'm sure you will," he said. "But until then, these tell you what you need to roll. The upper half, as you can see, goes from one to six." He was intent on his task, bringing to mind a professor. Rey wondered if he'd be any good at teaching, if he had the patience. "And the lower half has something close to poker. You have your house, small straight, large straight…"

He went on until she understood the rules.

"Three rolls," he reminded her. "You can go first."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"So I can help you," he smirked.

Cocky bastard.

"Fine," she said graciously. She sat up straighter so she could hold the cup with the die over the box. She shook it and then let the pieces fall.

Except they didn't do it naturally.

Time stalled, the die falling in slow motion, their sounds muted. A six, and then a four and a three, followed with another four and a five. They came to their respective stops in the box. Ben was halted in watching, his brows furrowed. Rey knew without a doubt that celestial interference was now occurring.

Bullocks.

"Because I'm tired of this!" Ben shouted, but not the one in front of her.

She stood up and turned to find him in front of the patio doors. His phone was creaking beneath the force of his grip as he held it up to his ear. Their Christmas tree was there, and Rey knew then that this was a vision that would happen very, very soon. It filled her with dread.

Rey edged closer, the future Ben unaware of her presence.

"It wasn't my fault!" Ben cried.

"It's never your fault!" said a heated voice on the other end of the line. She was near enough now to hear it. "It's their anniversary, and you don't give a shit!"

"That's not true! You always say that, and it's never fucking true!"

"It is!" the man he was fighting with insisted. "I'm done with you! It wasn't enough that you took Jacen and Jaina away! Your whole damn life, you've fought us at every opportunity! You never once said you were sorry!"

Tears lined Ben's lashes.

"They're gone because of you!"

Ben swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"It's not my fault," he said hoarsely.

"No, it's never your God-damned fault, is it? You could care less that you killed them!"

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT!" Ben screamed.

"YOU WERE IN CHARGE OF THEM!" the man roared back. "You were in charge of them! I wish it had been you instead of them! You're an ungrateful piece of shit, and it's unfortunate that Anakin died, because he can't be a buffer anymore!"

"Dad," Ben choked around a startled sob, shocked to his core. His own father had said he wished Ben was—

The line went dead.

"His father didn't mean any of that," Sitrine's voice sounded to her right. He was leaning against the wall, his arms folded.

"But Ben thinks he did," Rey whispered.

Sitrine vanished.

Just when she thought the vision was over, Ben kept moving. He found whiskey and a glass and tossed a finger of it back.

Rey did a doubletake—she'd caught sight of her future self coming downstairs, probably in response to all the yelling. It was entirely bizarre. For a moment, she understood why it was theorized a person would kill their doppelganger. It was unnatural—it made her on edge. It—

"Ben, what's wrong?" Future Rey asked once she'd reached the kitchen.

"Nothing," he growled, slamming his glass on the table. "Nothing at all. You have to go. I can't take this anymore. I don't want you here."

"What?" her mirror self gasped. "Why?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" he repeated much more loudly. "I'm shit! I'm total fucking shit! You're wasting your time—get in the Jeep and go!" He dug in his pocket for his wallet and shelled out a few hundred dollars. "Here. Find a way home once you get to the city."

"I don't—"

Since her doppelganger wasn't moving fast enough, Ben grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the cabin. The other Rey struggled the entire way, still wearing only her pajamas.

"Ben, no!" she protested. "I can't let you be alone! I know—I know you're going to kill yourself! I don't want to go! You need me!"

Fury filled Ben's face. This had been the wrong thing to say.

With renewed vigor, he yanked her down the stairs of the front stoop. There was ice everywhere, and she slipped, stumbling, flailing. She crashed to the ground, her head smacking off the asphalt of the driveway. Her lashes fluttered closed.

She was unconscious.

"No!" Ben whispered. "No!" He fell at her side, afraid to touch her. "Rey! Rey, wake up!"

Beep… beep… beep…

They were no longer at the cabin. Rey stood beside Ben as he stared through the window of the other Rey's hospital room. She was hooked up to multiple things, her face blank, her head wrapped. Rey couldn't tell, but she thought there may have been deep damage.

Ben shoved his hands into his hair, a whimper-y sob on his lips. His cheeks were wet with tears.

"Not again," he rasped. "Not again."

The world flickered.

The gun shook as Ben lifted it to his mouth.

"I'm a waste of space," he choked. "I destroy everything."

He pulled the trigger.

"I'd keep the three, the four, and the five," Ben Solo said in the present, jarring Rey as the real world shimmered back into place.

It took everything Rey had not to scream.

Three times now. Three times she'd seen him kill himself. It wasn't getting any easier.

Ben frowned at her with some concern. "…You all right?"

"What?" Rey found breath, her lungs filling. "Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Three, four, and five? For a small straight?"

"…Or a large." Still eyeing her, he slid the three die he'd singled out to the corner of the box. "It's ultimately up to you, though."

"No, that sounds good," she said, putting her hands in her lap to hide how badly they were shaking.

His family—new players on the chessboard of death. Ben had siblings? They'd died? His father thought it was his fault?

They played five games, and Ben won four of them. He attributed this to his superior playing skills, but it was really more because Rey couldn't concentrate. She kept combing over the vision in her mind. For once, she wasn't angry she'd been shown it. No, it had held vital clues.

While Ben took a shower to get ready for bed, Rey snuck into his room and grabbed his phone. It wasn't password protected—probably because he was never around anyone. There wasn't anything on there, anyway. Base apps, nothing more.

She hurriedly looked up his mother's phone number, praying it was in there. It was. Grateful, she tapped the number into her own phone and put his back where he'd left it. Still trying not to make a sound, she tiptoed downstairs and into the guest bedroom.

The mobile rang four times.

"Hello?" came a cautious voice.

"Um—hi," Rey said. Shite. She hadn't had a speech prepared. "I'm—a friend of Ben's."

"Is he okay?" the woman asked immediately. What had Padmésaid her name was? Leia?

"Yes, he's fine," Rey breathed. "But I have to tell you something he won't."

"All right…" Suspicion and hesitation hung on the other woman's words. Rey imagined she was going over a mental list of who Ben could possibly be friends with who would call out of the blue.

"He really wanted to spend Christmas with you," Rey said. "But he doesn't feel like—he doesn't feel like he's wanted anymore…"

"What?" Leia whispered.

"I don't really have a lot of time to talk," Rey continued. "He'll be back any minute, and—and he'd kill me if he knew I was telling you. But—please, please call him. Tell him he's wrong."

"I—of course, but who are you?" Leia asked, bewildered and worried at once.

The noise of the water running stopped.

"I'm a friend," Rey said.

She hung up, her phone beeping to indicate the line was closed.

Would Leia do it? Would she call Ben?

Rey's answer came moments later as Ben's mobile gave a standard ringtone. She relaxed, slumping against a wall, hanging her head.

Crisis temporarily averted.

This whole… suicide thing… It stemmed from what had happened with his siblings—with his father. That was the dark secret she had to get Ben to talk about. Right then, it felt insurmountable. How on earth would she ever get him to open up about that?

She knew one thing: whatever had happened, it had indeed been an accident.

Or why else would he be so tortured?