"I hope you have a plan." Rey leans with her arms crossed against the door of Rosshel's private dressing room, watching as Ben scours the room for anything he might use in a fight. So far he's come up short.
"I do."
"And I hope it's more than 'beat everyone senseless until they beg my big strong muscles for mercy.'"
Ben hesitates, suddenly finding the contents of a makeup drawer highly interesting.
"Seriously? That's your plan? By the Force, B-!" Rey bites down hard, swallowing the pieces of his name back down. Even in the privacy of Rosshel's personal dressing room, she doesn't dare say it aloud. "What are you thinking?"
Ben starts discarding his heavier armor, making a pile of it in the opposite corner, as far from Rey's fuming as possible.
"I can't believe you're going through with this. You realize this is - " the hem of Ben's shirt rides up as he pulls off his chest plate. Rey's voice catches briefly. Annoyingly. She clears her throat. "Insane."
Ben doesn't respond. Instead he goes about unclasping his ray-deflecting vest and thigh plates. The armor would have saved his life in a shoot out, but in hand-to-hand it will only slow him down.
After four vehement attempts to get through to him, Rey realizes he isn't listening. He's happy to let her go on protesting, as if she were humming a song stuck in her head.
She taps her irritation in a rapid staccato against her opposite elbow. Not interested in having this fight? Fine. I've got plenty of others to pick.
"So," she says brightly. "Betrothed to Kylo Ren, am I?"
That gets him. Ben's hand halts half-way to a buckle. He straightens by a degree, as if the tendons of his body were being wound taught.
"Let's not do this now."
"Why not? According to you this is the only room that isn't bugged."
The servant who had led them backstage had said they could use any dressing room they'd like. Said servant's jaw fell open as Ben promptly shouldered his way into Rosshel's private room and flipped the lock behind them. Rey had immediately wedged herself against the door, ready for security to burst in and remove them. While her nerves had come down a bit since, she was still keeping most of her weight jammed up against the door as a precaution.
"The room isn't bugged. But now is not the time."
"It's never the time," she retorts acidly.
Ben looks at her for the first time since he started changing. Despite the privacy, he hasn't removed his mask. Rey catches her reflection in the deep tint of his visor, a nearly perfect replica of a scowling Virya. Just the sight of the other woman rubs her the wrong way.
"Were you ever going to mention it?"
"It's not… relevant." Ben goes back to removing his armor.
"Not relevant?"
"It was a one-sided arrangement between Vorian and Snoke. It's not like -"
"Yes, it sounded very one-sided. Especially the part where the entire Inner Circle was ready to throw confetti at the wedding."
Ben throws a wrist plate to the ground a little harder than necessary.
"It makes sense now," Rey continues. "Why she came to you. Why you wanted to help her. Why you constructed this ridiculous scenario. You wanted to parade around next to her and relive your glory days. You wanted me to look like her so you -"
"Enough!"
Ben's sudden fury startles Rey into silence. He sees her struck expression and catches himself, spinning away to face the vanity. He grips its counter so hard, she thinks he might hurl the whole thing into the wall. "You have no idea," he says, voice barely contained, "what I want."
It takes Rey a moment to recover. "Of course I don't," she rasps, as if she'd been the one who shouted. "How can I when you won't let me?"
Ben's knuckles whiten. He looks the way he did in his room that first night, turning away from her when she'd tried to heal him. Cutting himself off from her like twisting the water off a tap. "We really can't do this," he says. "Not here. Please."
It's the 'please' that gets her. It's so out of character. Unguarded. Vulnerable. It cuts her anger down more effectively than any blade. Suddenly, she wants to cross the room to him. To lift away the mask and take his face between her palms. If she asks him now, why he left her in Exegol, why he's been keeping her at arm's length since his return, exactly what it is that he wants, she thinks maybe he might give her some answers. Maybe.
But if she moves from the door, nothing would stop the guards if they tried to burst in. And if Ben lets her remove his mask, she might accidentally expose him to the entire Order. Rey's hands fist in frustration. She doesn't budge from her post. Because Ben is right. Now is not the time. Here is not the place. They are risking their lives on this mission. And until they come out the other side, there is no room for distractions.
"I don't want you to do this fight," she says. "I'm worried."
His broad shoulders relax in something like relief. His spine goes slack for a weary moment, then straightens again."I know. But we don't have a choice."
"We could find a way out. We could sneak away before this gets out of control."
"Every exit will be heavily guarded by now. He's expecting you to run. And even if we force our way out, where does that leave us for the Frost Ball? Rosshel will just start this whole thing over until we resolve it. We need to do this now."
"Maybe I just don't go to the Frost Ball."
"If you don't," Ben reminds her, "everything will be undone. Maybe not tomorrow but in a month? A year? Walk away from this and everything goes back to the way it was before."
Rey clenches her jaw, knowing he is right. The First Order would rebuild unless she and Ben can uncover concrete crimes committed by its members. Despite the greed and despicable behavior she'd witnessed tonight, there's nothing they can take back to Leia to warrant an arrest.
"Then," she defies. "I'll go back to Rosshel and tell him I refuse any bidder he tries to accept."
"And then he'll keep you here in this house until you change your mind. He'll claim it's his duty as your guardian to keep you under his protection. You'd be his prisoner."
Rey laughs. "He couldn't keep me here if I wanted to escape."
And then Ben has crossed the room and is standing right in front of her. He grasps her wrist, voice lowering. "Stop it," he says, voice like iron. "Stop underestimating him. Rosshel is more dangerous than you think. And I need you to start taking your safety seriously before you drive me out of my damn mind."
Rey blinks, taken aback by Ben's sudden intensity. She can feel her own pulse against the texture of his callouses. He squeezes firmly. "Alright?"
"… Alright." With him bearing down her, she can't say anything otherwise.
Someone raps sharply on the other side of the door. A stranger's voice, deeply muffled, travels through the panel. "Time's up. Is he ready yet?"
"He's coming," Rey calls, wedging her back more firmly against the door in case it tries to open. The sound of fading footsteps puts her slightly at ease.
Ben releases Rey's wrist and reaches for the doorknob, but Rey halts him with a hand to his chest. "I should be the one going out there," she whispers. "You're not even connected to… you know…"
Ben tenses. "I don't need it for this."
"But what if-"
"I said. I don't need it."
Rey sighs. "You better not. Because you can't expect me to just stand on the sidelines if you do."
"You don't have a choice, remember? You don't know how to fight."
"I don't care what I do or don't know. If you need me, I'm helping. Then you'll be the one who doesn't have a choice."
Ben stares at her for a long moment. Rey wonders if he isn't considering tying her up and locking her in this room.
"It won't come to that," he says finally.
"Good." Rey drops her hand and steps away from the door. "Oh and by the way, when we get back? You and I are going to have a talk about how we do things on our… excursions."
"Agreed," Ben replies dryly, stepping out into the hall. "A long one."
#
When Rey returns to the Vorian box, Rosshel still there. He's switched from champagne to an amber liquid with a deep, smoky scent that coils with his cologne. Spotting her, Rosshel pats the cushion beside him. Rey briefly considers stalking off to find somewhere else with a view of the stage but then remembers what Ben had told her. He's expecting you to run.
Rey squares her jaw and sits beside Rosshel. He offers her a glass identical to his own. She places on the side table without so much as a sip.
"You'll regret not taking my offer," Rosshel says mildly. "We could have established the New Order with a simple 'I do'. This way is messier for everyone. And I'll be the one left cleaning it up."
'Like you cleaned up your first wife when she became a mess for you,' Rey thinks. But part of her wonders if Virya would have agreed to Rosshel's proposal. Has she stoked his suspicion with her flat refusal?
"I've never understood your foolish devotion to Kylo Ren," Rosshel sighs. "It's the only childish aspect that your father never managed to stamp out of you. Even knowing his lineage, you still pine after him… his Skywalker blood. He and his kin are infested with the Light, you know. It plagues him, like termites chewing at a house. It was only a matter of time before his collapse."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Rey snaps. "He's stronger than you could ever know."
"Ah," Rosshel glances at her. "So you are still in love with him. That's a shame."
Rey startles. Jerkily, she turns her face to hide the blossoming heat in her cheeks, hoping the dim lighting and veil obscure whatever shows on her expression. More than anything, she is angry with herself for the slip.
Rosshel watches her a moment, then turns his attention to the stage. As if on cue, Ben emerges, his mask reflecting a dozen spotlights, each honed on him.
"But if you still feel so strongly about Ren," Rosshel ponders, "I wonder what it is you're doing with that man."
Rey's irritation ices over at the question. She turns to see Rosshel watching Ben with a calculating intelligence. Her gut drops. Does he suspect the identity of Virya's masked body guard? In her stupid, emotional outburst, had she given Ben away?
#
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the auctioneer begins, "Welcome back from our intermission. As I announced before the break, our second half will be run a bit differently. I described the rules before we adjourned, but I'll repeat them now for anyone who may have missed it.
"The item up for bid is the hand in marriage of none other than Virya Vorian herself. As you all know, Miss Vorian recently became the wealthiest heiress in the known universe."
A murmur ripples through the theater. Rey sees people leaning forward in their chairs.
"There are only two requirements to win her hand. First: you must submit the highest bid. Second: after securing the highest bid, you must beat this man beside me in a duel. Once and only once you fulfill both of these requirements will you win her hand in marriage. Keep in mind, if you are beaten in one round, you may participate again in the next. We will keep going until no one here can continue, or a winner is declared. And now, without further ado, let us begin. Do we have a starting bid at -"
Before the auctioneer can finish, the entire theater lights up. A barrage of figures, flashing so rapidly they create a strobing effect. The auctioneer's dark eyes flick around the room, tallying the climbing bids. They come so fast he does not even bother to declare them. A muscle in Rey's jaw flexes. She'd known people would be enticed by Virya's fortune, but this was beyond what she'd imagined.
On stage, Ben stands like a soldier in the middle of an electric storm. Tall and silent, his shoulders back and his hands clasped behind his waist. Each flash is a threat to strike him down, yet he remains unwavering. Anyone with a fighter's instinct would be wary of his stoicism. The fact that the room is rushing headlong to challenge him is a testament to greed's blindness. Rey watches the perfect stillness of her alleged fiance and wonders how many of these finely dressed people will leave Rosshel's manor broken? How many minutes will it be before Ben has smeared that immaculate stage with blood?
Finally, the pace of the bids begin to slow. The numbers flash, then flicker, then drip, and finally come to a rest. The number has more zeros than Rey has ever seen in her life.
"Number 28 at 1.2 trillion. Going… going… gone to Number 28. Please proceed to the stage."
An older man in a sharply tailored suit stands. "I send my champion in my place."
"He what?" Rey asks.
The auctioneer only nods. From stage-left, a great hulk of a man steps from behind the curtain. He is wearing light armor and steel-capped boots.
Rey turns to Rosshel for an explanation. The older man just watches placidly on.
"Who is that?"
"Number 28's champion, I presume."
"His champion?"
"The man who will fight on Number 28's behalf."
"I know what a champion is," Rey snaps. "But isn't that… I don'r know, against the rules or something?"
"Rules? Did you forget I'm the Auction Master?" Rosshel scoffs and takes a deep sip from his drink. "I make the damn rules."
#
The hulk man rushes, trying for the element of surprise. Ben moves so fast, even Rey barely follows. There's the crack of a an elbow, the crunch of a knee, and then Ben hurling the man's massive weight head-first into the floor where his opponent lays motionless.
The whole thing takes seconds. The crowd's stunned silence lasts twice as long as the fight itself.
Ben returns to parade rest, his breathing still steady. He looks expectantly at the auctioneer who, with a start, announces the start of the next bidding round. This time, the numbers don't flicker quite so fast. Rey is careful to keep her expression blank, fighting back the smile lurking in the corners of her mouth.
The next four champions go down hard. By the fifth, Ben breaks into a light sweat. His mask obscures his expression, but Rey almost thinks he is enjoying himself. How long has it been, she wonders, since he's been able to have a real fight?
"Where do you say you found this fellow?" Rosshel asks, irritation tousled with curiosity in his tone.
Rey pointedly doesn't respond, watching the numbers flicker with bids for the next chance to fight. When the sixth champion steps from behind the curtain, she wields an electrostaff, the live current writhing like a purple serpent at both ends.
Rey looks at Rosshel, though by now she knows better than to hope he'll intercede. "You're just going to let that go? She has an electrostaff. He's completely unarmed."
Rosshel shrugs. "If he chose not to arm himself, that's no one's fault but his own."
Rey scoffs. "Unbelievable."
"There, there," Rosshel comforts. "It'll be over sooner this way."
The woman leaps without warning, screaming a battle cry. Her staff blurs, a purple comet arcing down. Ben waits until the last moment, then lunges. The crack of the staff striking splits the air in the theater. The next moment, the woman is on the floor, writhing as Ben presses her own staff down into her navel. Then he flips the weapon deftly from wrist to elbow and around his arm, planting it in the ground like a crackling banner.
"You were saying?" Rey asks dryly.
Rosshel sighs unhappily.
When the medics come to lift the woman's jittering body, Ben offers the electrostaff back to them. The medic hesitates, then accepts the proffered weapon as if it might bite him. The audience murmurs as Ben surrenders the weapon he'd won.
"Fool," Rosshel comments. "He should have kept that."
"He doesn't need a weapon to beat these thugs."
"Perhaps not for now. But how long any one man last against an entire room?"
"Longer than you think," Rey retorts. But inside, fault lines of worry begin to surface. Ben is the best fighter she knows, aside from herself. But Rosshel has a point. And while Ben is putting on a good show of appearing unfazed, Rey can see the early signs. His reaction times are slowing. His breath is quickening. No single man can last forever against endless opponents. If he was connected to the Force, she wouldn't have any reason to worry. But he isn't anymore.
#
When the winner of the twelfth bid names her champions, plural, Rey tells herself she's misheard. But her ears are proven right when not one by five fighters climb up onto the stage from the mezzanine. A Zabrak man and woman with durasteel sabers, a Human man wielding an electrowhip, a Twi'lek giant swinging a mace, and a humanoid reptile species Rey has never seen before. The group forms a loose perimeter, circling Ben like a practiced pack. Rey notices that each fighter has an identical tattoo stamped on their shoulders. This, she realizes, is a mercenary squad.
"This is too far," she protests. "Even if they beat him five to one, wouldn't you be ashamed?"
Rosshel says nothing. At some point, all the ease in his reclined posture has calcified into rigid grimness. He is no longer an aristocrat lounging in the luxury of his mansion, but a furious tyrant seething on his throne. He wants Ben broken. And he won't stop any attempt, shameful or not.
Rey stands and goes to the railing, scanning the theater for every visible exit. As Ben had predicted, each door is heavily guarded by armed men and women. If she helps Ben and reveals herself, they'll have to cut their way out. It would be messy and dangerous. But they won't have any other choice.
As if he feels her thinking it, Ben turns on the stage below and looks straight at her. Faintly, he shakes his head. Trust me, he seems to be saying. I can handle this.
Rey grips the banister and wishes she could hurl something at his head. He didn't want her help? Fine. She would wait. For now.
The entire room is holding its breath as Ben waits in the center of circling predators. The human man lashes his electrowhip, scorching the stage an inch from Ben's boot. The reptilian fighter gnashes crocodile jaws, flashing rows of razored teeth. Ben stands like a statue amid the taunting, waiting for someone to make a real move.
The reptile loses patience first. It breaks ranks with a roar, maw gleaming under the stage lights. Ben twists, striking with an open hand. Rey has to summon the Force to track his movements. Ben sidestepping, plunging fingers into the lizard's eye, bursting through the socket and then through the brain, the reptile's own momentum spearing itself on Ben's strike.
The reptile goes limp mid-air and careens into the human man directly across. The human flails, whip snapping. Ben dodges, but the erratic motion catches him across the bicep, flaying a gash of char and blood into his arm. The Twi'lek lunges, mace cratering into the floor. Wood cracks and splinters. Ben spins out of the way, his left arm swinging numbly, and the Zabrak male lunges from behind. Ben, somehow anticipating, ducks and drives his right elbow back to crumple the Zabrak's sternum. The opponent drops his sword and keels forward onto Ben's bent back. Ben angles, twists, and then flips the male over his shoulder and onto the ground. The female comes in swinging overhead. Ben jerks back, her broadsword narrowly missing his neck, then slams his fist into the arch of her back. She crashes onto her partner as he struggles up to all fours. The impact knocks the wind out of her and the consciousness from him.
Ben dips, grabbing a sword off the stunned couple. But the Twi'lek is already swinging his mace. Ben raises the sword to block, but the mace shatters it like an eggshell. The blade's tip flips through the air, somersaulting to land in the Zabrak female's shoulder. It pierces clean through her and into the chest of her partner still beneath her, staking them both to the ground. The female screams. Her partner doesn't.
The Twi'lek swings his mace again, not giving Ben the chance to regain his balance. Ben stumbles left, but the electrowhip strikes like a serpent, coiling tight around his ankle. The human man, still pinned by the dead reptile, grunts from the ground as the electricity surges into Ben's flesh. Ben deflects the falling mace on what's left of his shattered blade, managing to shove it left of course. It misses his face but catches him on the shoulder. Even from the boxes, Rey can hear the sickening crunch of Ben's bones.
Ben doesn't scream, but he drops the broken sword to clutch at his left arm, as if to hold it in place. The Twi'lek grins, finally halting his battering assault. He grasps Ben by the collar, dragging him in close.
"Now that you're properly crippled," the Twi'lek growls, "let's see what's underneath that mask."
Rey's stomach plummets. The Twi'lek drops his mace and reaches for Ben's visor. The entire audience leans forward in their seats including, Rey catches from the corner of her eye, Rosshel himself.
Rey gauges the distance from her box down to the stage. If she uses the Force to guide her leap, maybe she can make it down there before -
Ben's helmet cracks into the Twi'lek's face. A vicious headbutt. The Twi'lek's head snaps back. Blood splatters across Ben's visor and slaps onto the floor. Before the Twi'lek recovers, Ben hammers his only good first into the Twi'lek's temple. His massive opponent staggers, but doesn't go down. Instead he screams with rage.
"You dirty, little -!"
With a sharp kick, Ben rips the electrowhip from the human's grasp and flips the handle upward. He catches the live wire in his hand. The voltage buzzes at the contact, sounding almost like a light saber as it feasts into his flesh. The audience gasps. Someone even screams. Rey shudders, her grip making the railing creak. That pain would be unbearable. Debilitating. But she remembers the way Ben had driven a stake of ice into his hand at the lunar temple for her, as if it were nothing to him. That was part of what made him strong. His unflinching willingness to wound himself if that's what it took to win. The Twi'lek, stunned by the act, barely has time to react as Ben lunges, wrapping the charged line around his opponent's thick neck.
The Twi'lek screams, collapsing as purple volts rip into his throat. He claws at the whip as Ben presses down atop him, pulling the crossed line taught with his right hand and fixing it into the floor beneath his left knee. His left arm dangles uselessly from his shoulder. The Twi'lek convulses, and finally loses the fight against pain for his consciousness. Ben lets the line slip, still humming with biting energy. Rey sees and smells the charred flesh of Ben's palm and winces for him.
Ben stands, unsteady and disoriented. Blood and chunks of char stream from his flayed bicep. The angle of his left arm is grotesque. And although he is still masked, Rey can tell from the line of his gaze, the list of his head, that he is looking for her in the crowd.
So he sees her when she screams, "Behind!"
Ben turns in time to see the Zabrak female lunging for him, her partner's sword in her hands, a gaping wound in her shoulder where she'd wrenched out the fractured sword. She slashes, gashing Ben across the chest. He half-stumbles, half-dances backward, nearing the edge of the stage. Another few steps and he will fall into the orchestra pit. The Zabrak sees his precarious footing and screams, charging with her sword overhead. Ben twists sharply, and her foot slips, skating in a trail of Ben's blood. Rey realizes in shock that he had guided her there.
Ben wheels as the Zabrak lands hard on her knee. She slashes, but he is inside her reach now, catching the hilt of her blade as it falls. He rips the sword from her grasp and then slams the butt of it into her temple. She crumples like a doll. The last of the mercenaries, fallen.
Rey releases a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Relief washes over her.
It then vanishes when Ben stumbles, tries to stand, and fails. Panting, he has to drive the sword into the stage floor like a cane to bear his weight. Even after he is up on two feet again, she sees him leaning on it heavily.
The auctioneer, standing like a lost child amid a heap of crumpled bodies, looks to Rosshel.
Rey turns and sees the older man nod.
The auctioneer blinks in a passing moment of disbelief, then clears his throat. He can't quite get the tremor out of his voice. "Well," he says. "With permission from the Auction Master, we now move onto our next round of bidding."
Rey whirls. "No," she hisses. "Stop this."
"Rules are rules," Rosshel says. "We continue until he cannot, or until we run out of champions. Which we haven't."
"You're having these fighters brought up from the city," Rey accuses. "That was a trained mercenary band just now. You'll never run out of champions."
"Then it ends when he is broken," Rosshel replies harshly. "By the looks of it, we don't have much longer to wait."
"Do I hear double?" The Auctioneer asks from below. "Very good, double is bid. Triple is bid. Very good. Quadruple bid received."
A low grade buzz is permeating Rey's brain. Panic, some part of her labels it. Fear.
"Feel free to tour the museum," Rosshel is saying to her. "If you don't have the stomach to watch."
Lights are blinding her, like a dozen little explosions. The mezzanine is a storm of bids, every flash caught and reflected by the gleam of the blood smeared stage. The audience has recovered from the shock of violence and realized what Rosshel himself has: it won't take long before the monstrous opponent in black is brought to his knees for good.
Rey looks at Ben, waiting grimly for his next fight. Although he would never admit it, he won't last much longer. Not without a light saber or a connection to the Force.
Again, Rey tries to feed the Force along their bond. But she meets only the jagged edges. She cannot feel Ben on the other side. Cannot help him. Even though there is so much of the Force stuffed inside her that she is overflowing with it, she cannot share a single drop of it with him. Him, who was the other half of their whole.
Rey is useless. Isolated. After all her Jedi training with Leia. After joining and winning the war alongside Finn and Poe and Rose. After all those long, lonely years in the sand yearning for relationships and bonds. Now that she finally has these things she'd spent her whole life wanting, she feels more desolate than ever. All because a single one has been cut.
It takes everything she has not to scream.
"Come, Virya. Don't make such a face. It spoils your loveliness."
Rey's eyes snap to Rosshel. This horrid, hateful man who she is about to strangle. She'll take his drink off the table and smash it into his smug, gray -
Rey's eyes snap back to the table. To the drink, which is positioned right next to the call button, which is part of a number pad provided to every seat. Rey stares at the number pad and begins to surface from the darkness of her mind. An idea breathes to life inside her like a flame of light.
