Playing the Rush

by NRGburst

vb: playing loose and aggressive on a hot streak of wins TQGxRounders: Benny gambles his way to Moscow AU

2. Full Tilt

Full Tilt - adj: a player's state of impaired judgment due to emotional agitation

---

A/N: Better late than never? Sorrysorrysorry for the ridiculous delay in getting this up. I was really sick for a couple of months there and couldn't even look at text on the computer/phone without blinding pain and it really knocked me out of my creative groove. But I did not want to abandon this so I have been trying to get back into writing again out of sheer stubbornness, hehe. This chapter is also more than double the length of PTR (and the longest chapter I've ever written), so I hope that makes up for it somewhat!

This chap also draws on book canon, but follows the show timeline more closely.

This is an M-rated version of this chapter. For the E-rated original version (with cover art and links), please check out my AO3.

---

"Benny?!"

Beth had made plenty of wistful wishes on the airplane, but she had never expected any of them to come true. And no matter how many times she blinks, she can still see Benny edging past the people in the front rows until he's suddenly engulfing her in a hug.

She knows her body is stiff from surprise and she's gripping at him too hard, but she can hardly believe this isn't some delirious fever dream; that she's inhaling the familiar smell of his skin; that he's warm and solid and real and here ...

"...How? " All the regrets come welling up in her mind and she hugs him tighter, desperately needing him to understand all the things she hasn't been able to tell him. "Benny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"-I know," he interrupts, and his eyes look just as full of regret for a moment before he closes them and sighs, bringing his forehead to touch hers.

"...I figured it out, okay?" he says quietly. "Can we just... get out of here and talk it out elsewhere?"

She nods in eager acquiescence, pressing her lips tight together and blinking fast to try to force the tears back. This isn't the time and place to do this, especially since Benny suddenly jerks back and turns because Mr. Booth has grabbed hold of his arm.

Beth blinks in a daze while he gives Benny a suspicious inspection.

"I'm sorry, but you are...?"

Benny offers his hand automatically. "Benny. Benny Watts."

"You're American? From what state? I wasn't informed of anybody coming to join us."

Benny blinks before he gives Mr. Booth one of those crooked, shit eating grins that Beth used to despise.

"You want to see my passport?" he offers sardonically, and Beth gives him a repressive look before explaining.

"Benny was the American Chess Champion before me, and is still my US Open Co-Champion. He played in the previous Moscow Invitational, and helped train me. He's..." Beth takes a breath, quietly relishing being able to say the words "...my second."

Mr. Booth frowns. "...What's a second?"

Benny gives Mr. Booth a visibly appalled look. "It means I do as much of the pre-game prep as possible so that Beth can save her energy for the actual game. Look, can we do this at the hotel? Beth needs to eat and rest, in that order, since they probably only gave her tea and cookies before the adjournment. They assigned you a driver, right?"

Mr. Booth nods curtly and gestures for them to precede him on the way out, obviously somewhat mollified by the way Benny is clearly speaking from experience.

Beth is relieved too – it feels familiar to have him taking charge when the situation has suddenly wildly shifted, and holding on to his arm is tangible proof that she's not somehow hallucinated him out of sheer exhaustion.

---

Benny can hardly believe how wild it is just getting Beth to the car through the thronging crowd of her clamoring fans.

It's a trip, and he can't help grinning at her once he's slammed the door behind them.

"Shit, Beth. It's like you're a movie star," he marvels, shaking his head. She huffs a laugh and lifts a shoulder awkwardly.

"I still can't believe you're really here," she blurts giddily, still gripping his arm, and he's about to lean over and kiss her when both the driver and Mr. Booth get in up front and almost in unison turn to the backseat to give them knowing looks.

Right. Too many prying eyes while there's still too much unspoken. So he settles for squeezing her hand and scooting closer as the driver pulls away from the curb.

"Yeah, I know it's last minute, but if there's anybody you need a second for-"

"-it's Borgov," she agrees wryly, before she squeezes his arm again. " Thank you. You really have no idea-" she breaks off, looking away and blinking rapidly before getting a hold of herself again. "How did you even get the money for a last minute ticket?"

Benny gives her a warning look. "...Don't get mad."

Mr. Booth gives a scoffing laugh from the front seat at that lead-in and Beth's eyes widen with horror. "...You gambled for it?!"

God, not this again. As if they hadn't already had this exact same argument months ago. "It's not gambling; it's grinding; I told you . And if you know a better way to earn a grand and a half in two days, I'd like to hear it."

Beth rolls her eyes. "Well, I'm sure it's less exciting, but I took out a loan from my bank."

Benny frowns. "You're on the hook for it then?"

Beth shrugs uncomfortably. "My- I had a friend offer but I couldn't take her money. And I've been a good customer for years now, making all the mortgage payments on time, so they were happy to arrange it. I figured I'd have enough to pay it off right away if I even got third prize."

Benny gestures, making a face. "As if that's not gambling, Harmon, Jesus. Taking on four top Russians on your own?"

Beth's mouth quirks before she gives him a cheeky smile. "Jesus actually had nothing to do with it."

Smartmouthed little minx. Benny smiles despite himself, shaking his head. "You got me there. That pawn sac against Luchenko sure seemed like a miracle , though. Ingenious."

Her eyes brighten with pride before she shakes her head. "I actually got the idea from your game against Najdorf," she confesses, which pleases Benny so immensely that he can actually feel his cheeks flush too.

And it's just like before, deconstructing why she'd chosen one move over another in her games and thrilling in the sheer brilliant perfection of certain sequences. He commiserates with her over Flento being damnably inconsistent, and then they both exclaim over how Duhamel had actually made an error, which really just shouldn't happen when playing chess at this level, before he chuckles over how Laev must have been kicking himself for not snapping up her pawn when he'd had the chance.

Mr. Booth keeps looking back at them as if they're suddenly speaking Japanese, but Benny doesn't even care: it feels sublime to finally be able to share this sense of total synchrony over the game with her again.

He still notices how cold Beth's hands are and the way she's shivering slightly despite her thick winter coat though; sees the dark circles under her makeup and the new hollows in her cheeks; hears the brittleness in her voice. It's probably just residual adrenaline keeping her upright at the moment. This tournament has been grinding her down, and Beth's obviously almost on empty – he used to lose weight after tournaments with this kind of relentless pace and he doubts she's been careful about looking after herself.

Although there's another need that he knows they both have, and while he's not sure how wise it is to want to satisfy it, he can't stop thinking about it either.

"So uh, I don't have a hotel reservation," he says deliberately, and Beth shrugs a shoulder.

"I have a living area in my hotel suite. With an actual couch instead of an air mattress," she adds teasingly.

It's supposed to be a joke, but her words wipe the smile right off his face. He's been trying to convince himself to get over her for months, and the way she'd actually wept tears of joy to see him and still hasn't let go of his arm makes him think she still has feelings, too.

But if all she wants is a friend and a second he has to respect that, even if his guts suddenly feel like they're full of lead. "...You want me to sleep on the couch?" he asks carefully.

She snatches her hands back as if she's just realized they were out of bounds, opening her mouth to ask a question before she changes her mind and bites her lip, eyeing him hesitantly. "Only if you want to," she ventures softly.

It reminds him of that pensive way she'd looked in the passenger seat when he'd dropped her off at JFK, eyes full of longing and then quiet resignation when neither of them had reached across the gearshift. And then she'd gotten out of the car and never come back.

Benny suddenly realizes he doesn't care about circumspect behavior in public or the two relative strangers in the front seat anymore. He's already made a thirty six hour poker run, dropped three grand and flown more than four thousand miles in order to be right here – the whole fucking world probably knows exactly how he feels, and yet Beth still doesn't seem to.

So he closes those last few inches between them definitively, and the way she whimpers with relief and kisses him back, burying her fingers in his hair and dragging him close – god, this was exactly the welcome he wanted.

---

Beth is reluctant to stop when Mr. Booth clears his throat noisily and announces that they're almost at the hotel. Being able to kiss Benny like this feels like the most incredible drug, making her feel headily wanted, her heart achingly overfull with everything she'd tried so hard to stifle.

He's kissing her in public, like they're an actual couple. Maybe it's because the car is still relatively private, and the only witnesses are Mr. Booth and Balaga, their Russian driver. Or maybe because people are going to assume anyway, since he'll be staying in her room.

Or maybe he really does want to be with her, despite everything that's happened.

That hope has the same desperate edge to it that it had always had in New York, but surely his being here means something. It's always so hard to tell - she knows that impenetrable expression of his might be good for playing poker, but she wishes he could make it a little easier for her sometimes.

It's thrilling though, the way Benny quietly curses when he pulls away and has to visibly struggle to control himself, even while she's trying to catch her breath and calm her own heart-rate into less of a gallop. And she loves seeing the wicked promise in his eyes, feeling it in the way his thumb rubs circles through the thin stockings covering her knee even after they deliberately shift themselves further apart in the backseat.

A minute later, they look completely respectable, with Benny offering a hand to help her out of the car like a perfect gentleman. He fetches his suitcase from the trunk and then she takes his proffered arm again so they can walk into the hotel together.

Mr. Booth still looks distinctly disapproving when he speaks up in the elevator before getting off on his floor.

"We'll meet in the hotel lobby as usual, at five-thirty. Don't be late," he warns.

Benny dips his head agreeably. "A pleasure to meet you. We'll see you tomorrow at five-thirty, then," he says, and Beth smiles as blithely as he does.

"Good night, Mr. Booth."

She's a little breathless with anticipation after the elevator doors slide shut on his scowl, but the rest of the short journey is made with casual aplomb, as if she's simply inviting a friend to her suite for supper instead of sex. They even make small talk: Benny says something about how he'd stayed on the same floor a couple years ago, and she manages some reply about communist predetermined purchases.

But as soon as he shuts the door to the suite behind them and drops his suitcase, all pretense falls with it.

She loves her new winter coat, and she actually thinks the color and style of Benny's wool coat make him look far more handsome than his leather duster did, but it's frustrating to find so many thick layers and unfamiliar fastenings between them.

And they've only managed to get their coats off between desperate kisses when her stomach growls audibly.

Beth is mortified – her body is pressed right against his, so he must have felt the rumble too. And he pulls back with surprise, eyes crinkling before he bursts out into hapless laughter.

"Benny, I'm fine! We can eat after-" she insists, but he shakes his head and just hugs her tight.

"God, Beth, you drive me right out of my head, you know that?" He presses a kiss to her forehead, and Beth can't quite repress a pout – that is not where she wants him to be kissing her. "The order of operations still stands," he continues, "you need to eat a proper meal as soon as possible. And I know exactly how long you take in the bathroom, so I'll order dinner while you get cleaned up. Just tell me what you want and I'll call it down and get unpacked while I wait for room service to arrive. I'll take my turn in the bathroom after you, and then once we're both clean and fed and watered? We are going to fuck until neither of us can move anymore."

Beth lets out a flustered laugh, and she can feel her cheeks flushing. "...I guess it's an okay plan," she admits.

Benny smiles and brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, meeting her eyes seriously. "I'm supposed to be here to help you take on Borgov, not... hinder you, okay? We need to prioritize keeping you in optimal playing condition."

Beth hesitates, trying to take the sudden sense of disappointment in stride. "Of course. Chess and beating Borgov come first."

Benny studies her face and his eyebrows knit with concern before he nods reassuringly. "You've got this - we just have to stay on track. So go shower so I can take my turn - I smell like I've been traveling for way too long. You want something with eggs like a quiche for dinner?"

She thinks quickly over the options – if he's going to insist they eat first, she wants something neat and easy, but she does want something substantial, too. "No, the pork and mushroom stew with the mashed potatoes, please. And a green salad with the dressing on the side."

"Got it. Dessert?"

Beth smiles wickedly over her shoulder as she deliberately saunters towards the bathroom. "Isn't that you?"

She loves it when she manages to strike Benny dumb. His mouth works soundlessly before he exhales with an appreciative grin.

"God, I missed you.

That statement makes hope flare in her chest again, but she just wiggles her fingers at him with what she hopes passes for a flirtatious smile before shutting the door.

And she hurries through her shower and post-shower routine, wishing she had something a little sexier to entice him to bed than pajamas and a face scrubbed clean of makeup.

Not that she'd had anything like that at his apartment either, but she'd still had other ideas about what it would be like to have an assignation in a foreign hotel room.

Leave it to Benny to puncture all the glamorous fantasies she'd gotten from Cosmopolitan magazine.

But her heart still leaps when she emerges to find that he's already casually barefoot, having divested himself of his suit jacket and tie, leaving several buttons tantalizingly undone on his shirt. It makes her fingers itch to touch despite the mouthwatering scent of dinner waiting on the table in front of the couch.

The way he slowly puts down his fork and looks at her like he'd much prefer to devour her makes her feel instantly better about the pajamas too, especially when he murmurs, "there's my Beth, again," before swallowing hard.

"Start eating – I won't be long," he says, disappearing into the bathroom with a small case of toiletries and a bundle of folded clothing.

Since he's already started on his meal, she digs into hers ravenously, glancing around to see how he's been settling in between bites. They'd lived together for weeks, and obviously some habits don't change - he's placed a couple books, several Shakhmatni Byulleten magazines and a notepad next to her chessboard on the desk, hung up their coats and his suit jacket and lined up their shoes by the door just like at his place; his suitcase now sitting on the far side of the bed by the window. His place had been full of well worn books, mismatched crockery and battered furniture that she suspects were secondhand acquisitions, but he'd always had everything neatly put in its proper place.

Her heart skips a little faster to see the box of condoms he's placed on the nightstand - typical Benny too, always prepared.

She's weary and desperately relieved to finally be eating, but that hungry ache between her thighs has been growing insistently too, bolstered by memories that keep coming to mind.

She finds it even harder to focus on the food once he's out of the shower with his hair still towel damp, dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans, nodding approvingly at the way she's eating before he seats himself next to her on the couch and resumes tucking into his own meal.

They used to eat across from each other and not next to each other like this, and she finds she's very aware of Benny's leg next to hers and the soapy fresh smell of his skin. It'll be much easier to turn and kiss him again like this, but instead they apply themselves to the food conscientiously, both of them laughing a little at how eagerly they want to get this box checked off so they can move on to the next one.

Benny chuckles, shaking his head. "You're going to want to brush your teeth too, you know," he points out.

Beth scoffs and rolls her eyes playfully. She'd forgotten, but he's right - once they go to bed, they're not going to get back out. But somehow they bolt the rest of their meal and brush their teeth together like they'd used to in his apartment, although the air is more electrically charged now than it ever was then.

And when he grabs her arm as soon as she's put down her toothbrush, she's more than ready.

"Oh god, come here already," he groans, pulling her close, and finally being able to reach for him is the most glorious surrender.

It's strangely new somehow, falling into bed together. Maybe it's because this is a hotel bed instead of his; maybe it's knowing that he's come all the way here for her. And the way he keeps kissing her as they shed their clothing, bodies pressing together urgently, feels thrillingly intimate, and a heady accompaniment to the familiar, knowing movement of his fingers; the way he raises his arms in wordless cooperation when she tugs off his shirt before he undoes the buttons to her pajamas with ease.

He presses kisses down her throat even as her breath comes faster in anticipation. Everything he does to her always feels so incredibly good and she can still hardly believe that it's actually happening. When he slides his fingers down her body to tug at her panties, she lifts her hips to help, eager to just be naked together again.

As if he's also frustrated by the remaining clothing between them, he pauses to shuck off his jeans and underwear and kick them off the side of the bed, and they both groan with satisfaction when he turns back and their bodies finally come into full contact. It's heady just refamiliarizing herself with the taste and smell of his skin; how delightful it is to run her hands through that hair of his and feel the tickle of his mustache as he kisses her everywhere.

She expects him to turn her over as usual once he gets the condom on, but he doesn't - he pulls her close to kiss her again before putting more of his weight on her, adjusting the angle of his hips and sinking in.

Beth arches up against him mindlessly, holding him close - they've never done it like this, and it feels completely different from Harry and Tim despite being the same position.

"This good? Can't use... my fingers but… I want… to kiss you," he gasps between kisses, thrusting slowly, and she nods desperately.

It feels so good, but it's almost too much, and all she wants is to keep it going as they both strain together in a delicious rhythm. She's always known that Benny was a skillful lover, but there was a sense of deliberate distance before, of sex being a physical, even animal act for mutual release.

And surely this is lovemaking. It's so much more intimate - she loves being able to see his face and hold him close and kiss him while they move together. He's still very intent on finding the ideal angle and pace to get her to cry out with pleasure, but it's like he's also trying to show her how he feels with his body.

It's wonderful, but also overwhelming. She's already been through a rollercoaster of a day - she wasn't ready for this unexpected barrage of emotions with the promised sexual pleasure. It's like everything inside her is careening wildly out of control; a trip that's so much the opposite of the pills that she doesn't know how to handle it, though she desperately doesn't want it to stop either. Benny seems just as caught up - he can't stop chanting her name and his thrusting has gone from carefully controlled and rhythmic to increasingly hungry.

Orgasm is blindingly intense, and she can't even breathe for the long, ecstatic seconds it grips her body, only able to find her voice and senses again once the initial explosion leaves her shuddering. She's dimly aware of Benny reaching his peak too, crying out as he goes rigid in her arms, but all she can do is hold on to him, utterly lost to the blissful pulses still rolling through her.

"Oh god, Benny," Beth gasps when the intensity finally lets up, letting her head loll back against the pillow. The euphoric relief is still punctuated by occasional delicious aftershocks, and the weight of him on top of her is unexpectedly nice as they bask in it together. Every inch of her feels warm and connected to him like this, and she is just so happy to hold him close despite everything…

Too soon he shifts to ease his weight off her, rolling slowly to the side to deal with the condom before turning back, and his eyebrows knit with concern.

"Beth?"

Oh god, she was hoping it was dark enough that he wouldn't notice. She swipes at her eyes and shakes her head. "I'm probably just overtired," she offers, lifting a hand dismissively, "I'm fine, really."

He doesn't seem convinced. "You sure?"

"Better than fine, okay?" she says, rolling her eyes and huffing a laugh. She hasn't figured out how to phrase things yet, and she has no idea how he'll react if she lets it all messily spill out again. "Do you really need me to tell you how good that was?"

He smiles wryly, his eyes searching hers for a long moment.

"...Good for both of us," he says finally, and she nods, relieved he isn't pressing the issue.

But she wiggles closer to him despite the way her nerves are jangling, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before stretching up to kiss him again. "Thank you for coming so far for me, Benny. I'll pay you back, I promise," she manages before a yawn cuts her off.

He squeezes her close and traces soothing circles on her shoulder in a way that makes her heart ache.

"Let's just get some sleep," he says, and she drowsily waits for him to ease away into his own space to do that. Still, she's happy that she slips under while he's still holding her close.

---

Benny wakes up again after only a few hours of sleep: typical jet lag effect, and he knows that it'll be pointless to try to reset his body clock with only a couple days left of the tournament - might as well use it to their advantage as much as possible. He's never been anybody's second before, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try to do better than Weiss, at least.

Opening his eyes to see Beth sleeping soundly next to him makes him feel all sorts of things too, especially with that deep post-sex sense of satisfaction still lingering. She would probably welcome being kissed awake for another passionate round, but he refuses to give in to that temptation: even a draw with Borgov will be instrumental to her career, and she's so ready to finally best him that Benny can practically taste it. She's even playing white this time, so they had better not squander the advantage.

Of course, convincing her to be with him is something he's hoping for too, and her ecstatically emotional response last night makes him think that he's made the right moves this time - maybe too right. This is basically a simultaneous, and he'll be pissed at both himself and her if she ends up too caught up to give the Borgov game the proper attention. He's here to prevent a repeat of Paris, not cause it.

They've just got to keep her playing with consistent excellence, and compartmentalize everything else until after. Which he's done before, so he's confident they can do it again for a day or two, tops. Beth's in an excellent mental position to take Borgov on otherwise: it's not like Mexico or Paris where the games she was playing beforehand were against far easier opponents; where she was used to relying on her intuition more than calculating out even the most mundane possibilities.

So Benny gives her beautiful sleeping face one last wistful look before he carefully climbs out of bed and finds the clothes they'd hastily discarded, shucking back into his before folding up her pajamas and placing them next to her - she'll need them once she wakes, especially if he's going to keep his hands off of her and their minds focused on chess.

Her chess board is already open and waiting on the desk. Funny to realize they'd always played on his boards and never hers - he quite likes the stark black and white, soft surface of hers - placing pieces will be a lot quieter than usual. But the first thing he does is calculate the time difference before making a phone call to Arthur.

"Hey," he says quietly, "it's me. Sorry to be calling so late. I just wanted to ask if you and Wexler could stand by to help figure out strategies in case Beth's game with Borgov goes to adjournment." He's keeping his voice low but he glances over at Beth, and he's reassured by the peaceful, unbroken pace of her breathing.

"Uh…sure? Should be an amazing game, of course. Why don't you come over - we can analyze it together if you've finally lifted your chess embargo," Arthur says, and Benny gives a chagrined cough.

"...I uh. I'm actually calling from Beth's room in Moscow."

To his credit, Arthur only sputters with astonishment for a few seconds. "You're - serious?! Right now? You just… got a plane?!"

Benny tries to sound nonchalant about it. "Yeah, took the direct flight out of JFK on Friday since I already had the visa; made it in time to see her play out her adjournment with Luchenko. Levertov: It was completely worth it. Just the most brilliant endgame. I'm still going over it in my head."

"She won the match, then? That's incredible! I mean, from the position she was in, I thought - sorry, you're going to pay a fortune for this call, aren't you? We'll see the game in the paper in a few hours - please give Beth my congratulations."

"Yeah, will do. You should see the crowds here following the game live outside in the cold just for the chance to see her pass by. It wasn't like this when I was here before, not even for their homegrown champions."

Arthur gives a chuckle. "Well I hope Beth was just as pleased to see you in turn," he teases.

Benny tilts his head and allows himself a satisfied smirk before affecting a casual attitude. "Well, you know. She seemed pretty happy with the surprise."

He can practically hear Arthur grinning. "That's good. Really good news, my friend. Well, I won't keep you, but you know Hilton and I are always willing to help if we can."

Benny grins, grateful that Arthur isn't giving him grief – yet, anyway – about running halfway around the world to chase after a girl. "Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

He gives Mike a call too, and is pleased that he immediately volunteers to recruit Beltik and his brother for the cause - the more brains they have on this, the better.

With that safety net in place, he spends a couple of hours selecting sequences from Borgov games until he can feel disoriented fatigue catching up with him again, and he eases back into bed next to Beth to grab another couple hours of shut-eye. He's got some good things for her to review and he's excited to see what she's going to come up with, but he's going to be useless to her if he isn't rested enough to be lucid.

He wakes again when he feels her stir and he can't help feeling concerned when she doesn't open her eyes, merely turning and sinking back into deeper sleep again.

Shit. She's obviously been pushing herself way too hard. But if they're going to have time to prep, he needs to get that ball rolling.

So Benny calls down for coffee and breakfast – Beth always likes egg based foods, so he makes sure to order a selection, plus plenty of waffles and whipped cream and extra fat and protein in the form of bacon and sausages, along with milk and juice. The tournament itself always covers the food bill, and he bets she's been eating normally instead of taking advantage of the chance to properly fortify herself.

He notes the hastily stifled grin on the bellhop's face when he opens the door, holding up a 250 ruble note and a finger up to his lips before gesturing to the coffee table for him to switch their dinner trays for the ones laden with their breakfast. Beth is still asleep under the covers on the tumbled bed, and the open box of condoms on the nightstand is visible too, but Benny's not worried that this guy is probably going to confirm to the KGB that they're lovers in exchange for another "tip". If the Russians believe that he's going to distract her from the Borgov game, he's all for it.

He figures if they're going to pry into people's private lives, he can't be blamed if they jump to the wrong conclusions.

Well, somewhat misguided conclusions - he can't help feeling a surge of affection at the way Beth wrinkles her face in protest when he gently shakes her awake. She blinks dazedly until her eyes focus on his with a shy smile.

"I thought you were a dream," she confesses, laughing a little, and Benny can't resist kissing her again, although he firmly ignores the way she lets the sheet fall from her body in blatant invitation.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty, we got a match to prep for, so you've got to put those perfect tits away until I've got time to pay them proper attention."

Beth gives him a disgruntled look and he chuckles and indulges himself in another kiss. "I'm not saying we forget sex. I'm saying it has to come later, okay?"

"Why do you have to be such a hardass?"

"I could ask you the same question about being an unrepentant hedonist."

That makes her laugh and roll her eyes but she puts back on her clothing anyway, and he can tell by the eager glances she throws at the spread that she's more famished than she wanted to let on.

Once they start discussing the schedule for the day over breakfast though, it's easy as pie to switch the focus back to chess, and Benny's delighted to dive into the subject of Borgov's endgame traps with her as she neatly polishes off eggs and sausages and toast; to see the resolve and focus in her eyes even before her coffee's had a chance to kick in.

It's funny to realize that he's looking forward to watching Beth play Borgov more keenly than if the match were his own; already feeling a sort of violent anticipation start to pool in his gut when she spots and immediately recognizes the game he's set up on her board on the desk. Benny's just glad that he'd made sure they ate first - once she goes over to show him how she'd deviate from the moves Petrosian originally made against Borgov in Monaco, neither of them want to spend any more time on something as mundane as even the excellent food anymore.

It's just like being back in his apartment, that air of excited challenge as they cooperate to set up games from memory; debate strategies and play through them without having to slow down: they both thrive and learn like this, and he relishes it as much as she does.

Well, with the added bonus of not having to worry about the dirty dishes and having Room Service provide another pot of fresh coffee with just a phone call.

He's missed the perks of prestigious tournaments - poker might be a more reliable way of earning money, but it's usually more grind than fun and getting roughed up for your winnings is a constant risk. Being here like this is giving him ideas about the possibility of going on more tournaments with Beth instead - they've both been avoiding the competition circuit of late.

But he ruthlessly shoves that tantalizing prospect to the back of his mind: Borgov first, anything else comes after.

In order to save Beth's stamina for the actual game, he's been sticking to review to get her mentally geared, and it's delightful to see how prepared she is; how she's already analyzed all of the games on her own and thoroughly familiarized herself with his style of playing.

Benny's a little surprised that she's planning to play the Queen's Gambit to open - Beth almost always opens to K4 instead – but being unconventional against somebody who has doubtless studied her style minutely is a sound strategy, and he tells her so.

Right now the best thing he can do is just keep her confident, focused and calm heading into the match and make sure she's physically fortified for what will probably be a long game.

And it all goes according to plan, until it doesn't.

---

Beth hates to admit it, because even if Benny doesn't have the same opinions as her on say, the Caro-Kann defense, training with him spurs her to consider the board in unexpected new ways anyway. Hours always pass so quickly when they're in their chess groove too, which helps with her usual anxious watching of the clock before a big game.

She's noticed that he's going easier on her than he used to, but regardless, she feels ready; sharp and thoroughly prepared: each improved sequence she shows him bolsters her confidence that this might not play out like her other two games against Borgov. Although she can't help wondering if maybe she can persuade Benny to take a little break in bed: it's absolutely "later" now, they're reviewed plenty of Borgov's games, and relieving stress surely has to be a good thing.

Sometimes she thinks Benny withholds things just because it amuses him to see her steam and stew and strive for them, but she's fairly certain he can be persuaded this time. When she turns to get his opinion of the sequence she's just shown him though, she blinks with surprise.

He's leaning back on the sofa next to her, fast asleep.

She'd purposely arrived a couple of days early to get over the worst of the jet lag before the tournament, but he hadn't had that luxury. In fact, since he said he scrounged up the money in only two days, he must have been playing those all-night poker games again to manage it, like he'd done to pay off the parking tickets he'd been so annoyed about.

The way he's still got an open book in his hand makes him look so vulnerable somehow. She's had jet lag hit her like that too - he'd probably just closed his eyes for a second and gone under.

She glances at the bed, wondering if she should wake him and urge him to lie down properly before she decides against it.

He obviously needs the sleep and he'll just insist on prepping her instead, and she would prefer for him to be rested for the match later.

So she gets up and gets an extra blanket from the closet, covering him without waking him. His impromptu nap gives her a chance to get her outfit ready for the match too - she'd been too caught up in wanting to get Benny to bed last night to go through her usual routine.

She finishes the last couple of hours of prep quietly at the desk, occasionally looking over and feeling reassured - he's sleeping deeply despite the fact that he's not even on a bed, and it somehow comforts her, like all those days of prepping while Alma sat on the sofa and read or watched TV.

Once she's dressed and made up though, she goes back over to wake him, and she can't resist. She shakes him gently on the knee until he inhales with a start, and then she bends close to press a kiss lightly to his lips. "Now who's Sleeping Beauty?"

"Shit. …Sorry. …Meant to help you prep," he says blearily, and she's surprised when he pulls her down next to him. She's still not used to the way Benny has been touching her, but she likes it even if the familiarity of it still startles her.

"You did. But we have to go down to the lobby in half an hour, so I figured I should wake you."

Benny nods, yawning. His hand feels good rubbing her hip, and she can see the start of an erection through his jeans. He nuzzles at her neck and her heart skips faster until he nips her wayward thoughts in the bud abruptly.

"Thanks. Can you call down to room service for coffee and nut and cheese plates while I get cleaned up?"

She blinks, slightly put out. "You're hungry?"

He tilts his head, his eyes still not open. "...You need fuel that won't cause your energy levels to crash, so we'll have to save the Prague cake for later."

"Prague cake?"

"Moscow specialty - regular folks sometimes line up for hours to buy it, and the hotel has it on the dessert menu. Probably worth going to the restaurant for the original though, if you have time after the tournament."

Beth makes a wry face. He really does seem content to just hold her. "I don't think the State Department allotted any time for sightseeing."

That gets Benny to crack open his eyes with a frown. "You're not their employee. Hell, you paid for the ticket and hotel."

Beth sighs. She can't argue with that, but hindsight doesn't help her. "Well, I didn't pay for Mr. Booth, so I suppose that is why they decided everything."

Benny looks ready to argue about that some more, so Beth quickly speaks up again. "I'll know better next time at any rate. Pretty sure I'll have more leverage, even if I lose this game."

That has his eyes snapping open, and he grips her waist and meets her eyes seriously. "Hey. You're ready to play him and you know it. Don't psych yourself out now. He's not unbeatable - nobody is."

Beth closes her eyes and sighs. "I know, it's just… nerves."

Benny nods and then his gaze falls to her dress and he gives her a slow, appreciative smile. "And yet you're wearing black as if it's his funeral," he teases.

That gets a laugh out of her. "Oh, is that why you always wear black?"

He gives her a smirk. "Why else?"

She's glad Benny seems to understand that she doesn't want to talk about Borgov or the game right now, keeping the conversation to other sights and attractions in Moscow while he gets dressed before they both "fuel up" at his insistence.

Mr. Booth seems pleasantly taken aback when they show up in the lobby right on time, although his tolerance of Benny's sudden addition to their party seems to take a nosedive when Benny scoots forward in the seat while on the ride to the State Kremlin Palace.

"Driver, may I know your name?"

"...Me? Balaga, sir."

"Balaga, you must get around town a lot. I'm betting you know: where would a young lady go to find something fashionable to wear in this great city?"

Balaga grins cheekily. "The Soviet Union does not have fashion. It has light industry instead."

Mr. Booth turns to give him an almost accusing look. "You speak Russian?"

Benny quirks a brow. "A little. So does Beth," he says dismissively, and leans forward again to talk to Balaga. "Please think about it and let us know. After the tournament there should be time, yes?"

"Listen, this isn't some holiday. Miss Harmon is here representing America," Mr. Booth says curtly.

"So was I when I came, and yet I decided my own schedule outside of the tournament. That's an odd discrepancy, don't you think?" Benny says, as if puzzled.

Booth gives him another irritated look but turns back to stare at traffic instead of replying, which makes Beth wish she didn't have to make a request of him - she didn't have a second until Benny showed up, so he'll probably see it as a prima donna move when she asks him to give up his seat for Benny.

Luckily, the crowd in front of the State Kremlin Palace is even bigger than it was yesterday, and that turns his mood right around as they're pulling up. He takes a breath and turns back to size up Benny again before he speaks.

"Listen. I've spotted cameras and reporters that don't look like the usual Russian dispatch. How about I handle the press and you escort Beth into the hall?"

Benny's mouth twitches with a knowing smile and Beth immediately puts her hand on his knee to stop him before he spoils the perfect opening. "That sounds perfect, Mr. Booth. Thank you for doing that," she says quickly, smiling as charmingly as she'd seen Alma do. "Actually, would it be all right if Benny took your usual seat? It's supposed to be reserved for a player's second, since he'll be helping me analyze the game if it goes to adjournment and the front seat would give him the best view of the pieces…"

Mr. Booth pauses, frowning and glancing out the window again before seeming to come to a decision. "…Sure. Divide and conquer, right? Don't leave the hall without me though," he warns.

Benny nods agreeably, and Beth sighs inwardly with relief that he's taking her cues. "Wouldn't dream of it," he says lightly. "You want to take one side and I'll get the other to get her in past these guys before you do the press thing?"

That offer seems to satisfy Mr. Booth: he gives his head a marveling shake as he looks at the crowd clustered around the car before he takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle. "Let's do this," he says firmly.

---

Benny has always appreciated the prestige and gravity the Russians give chess, and he takes a moment to take in the marble floors and massive hall as the usher guides him to the seat. He likes how the spectator seats are on raised platforms on either side of the tables, affording them a decent view of the action, and he dips his head in acknowledgement when Shapkin and Duhamel, both of whom he's played before, greet him discreetly as they are led to their seats.

He'd left Beth with the referee to make her player's entrance, as if this whole thing were some sort of ritual duel.

He supposes maybe it is, and he enjoys the pomp and showiness anyway, especially with Borgov stalking in looking grim and square in stiff contrast to Beth entering like a femme fatale a minute later.

In the car she was talking about anything but the game and squeezing his hand tight, so he knows she's anxious even if she looks perfectly poised under the spotlights, her heels echoing in the expectant silence as she approaches the only table left.

She catches his eye for a moment and smiles faintly in response to his encouraging nod before she continues past to stand behind her seat, resolutely straightening her posture before she raises her hand to shake Borgov's.

Whichever way this goes, he's glad he's here to be with her through this.

Right from the start Borgov plays with surprising aggression, declining Beth's Queen's Gambit with an Albin Counter Gambit. So Benny's delighted when Beth deviates from the Albin in a way she's never done before, getting her pieces out into the open first.

It's still a typical battle between two Grandmasters though - skirmishes and strategic retreats lead to roughly even losses around the board with no mistakes, although Benny can tell Borgov's advancing queen is troubling her. Thirty-six moves in though, Beth uses a pawn to force it back and Benny can clearly see a muscle twitching in Borgov's upper jaw before he suddenly speaks.

"Adjourn."

Beth's head jerks up with obvious surprise and Benny studies Borgov's stiff attempt to play it cool as he waits for the referee to accept his written move. They're both still well within time control and they'd all been prepared for this match to go on longer - it has to be nerves rather than strategy or exhaustion behind the decision.

Beth gives him a pensive look as Borgov hurries off, the audience waiting in awkward silence, and Benny gives her a reassuring nod.

She's playing well, and there's no reason to worry yet. But he's doubly glad now that he came - he can see Luchenko and Shapkin studying the board intently on the other side of the table, and he surmises they'll be helping out Borgov. As if Beth having to contend with one Russian World Champion wasn't enough, but he was expecting this.

On top of that, Borgov doesn't also have to run the gauntlet of reporters Booth has waiting when they emerge from the hall, either.

Beth freezes in her tracks and turns around abruptly when the first camera flash pops, and Benny finds it hard to rein in his annoyance. "She still has a game to prep for! I thought you said you would take care of them."

Booth shoots him a disgusted look, as if he's the one with the wrong priorities. "She's bigger than the Monkees. This is an opportunity." He turns to Beth before continuing. "How about you tell them that being in Russia has made you feel lucky to be an American? Just something short and sweet."

Beth rolls her eyes and Benny doesn't bother to stifle a smirk. What is it with people thinking Beth Harmon will actually parrot jingoistic statements? Still, she thinks a moment before she sighs and turns back towards them.

Booth smiles with satisfaction at her apparent compliance, but Benny already knows the play: they have to walk past this circus anyway and Beth's done enough media to know how to choose the questions she answers before cutting it short.

He even finds out a new thing or two about her himself and he makes a mental note to ask her about that janitor who taught her chess sometime, although he hangs back with Booth as Beth answers a few more rapid-fire questions, waiting for her cue that she's done feeding scraps to the vultures. She answers with poise, confirming that he's a friend and here as her second, and refusing to predict the outcome of the game prematurely or answer inappropriately personal questions.

She's come a long way from the girl who was quick to snap when baited in Ohio and Vegas.

And as soon as she makes her excuses, they both quickly step forward to flank her in preparation for wading through the crowd outside when a Kentucky drawl calls out. "Excuse me, Miss Harmon, I'm from the Lexington Herald Leader."

Beth stops short and turns, her eyes widening as a handsome dark haired reporter Benny recognizes steps forward with a smile.

"How would you feel about the support of another friend? Our Kentucky readers believed you were here all by yourself."

Beth's whole face lights up, and Benny blinks wryly when cameras go off madly capturing them hugging.

Another guy flying across the world to be with Beth Harmon when she should be focusing on the Borgov game, and these pictures are going to set off all sorts of speculation. He'd be more worried about Beth being distracted by a guest, but Benny's positive he played this guy at the Open before he started writing for one of the chess publications, and his name is…

Beth turns to him happily. "Benny, this is-"

"-Townes, right? We've met at least a few times," he says, offering him a hand and a smile automatically. Beth's body language seems to indicate Townes is a really close friend, and he's pretty sure he recalls him penning an article with some pretty photos of Beth in Chess Review.

Townes smiles wider. "We have. But I really am here with the Lexington Herald Leader. We had a hometown hero making waves all the way over in Russia, so. I told my editor I had a good shot at an exclusive," he says pointedly towards Beth.

She gives him another beaming smile. "Well… I'm famished. Join us for dinner and we'll talk?"

"I'd be delighted."

Benny can't help quietly enjoying the way Booth is obviously struggling with how to deal with two unexpected men crowded into the backseat talking past chess tournaments with Beth and accompanying her up to her room. Benny keeps waiting for some brand new regulation to come out of his mouth in the elevator, but he doesn't comment with anything more than another terse warning about being on time for the adjournment.

Townes makes a hesitant face as the elevator doors slide shut. "Your… chaperone doesn't have to join us?"

Beth lifts her eyes. "He's here to make sure I don't wander around Moscow unaccompanied - had a whole list of rules for me when we first got here. Although I'm not really sure what the State Department thinks is going to happen if I walk down a street here on my own." Beth muses before she raises her brows. "Still, I think he's annoyed that I have too much company now."

Benny waves a hand dismissively. "I never had a state sponsored bodyguard, and political tensions were sky-high back then. This is sexist bullshit."

"Or maybe they weren't worried about you defecting," she pretends to ponder, and Benny chuckles, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Townes gives them a speculative glance, but he broaches another subject instead. "In all seriousness: I would love to catch up and get your perspective on this tournament for the article. But I understand that your game with Borgov has to come first. Just tell me how I can help."

She inhales and shakes her head slightly before she closes her eyes and blurts what's obviously been running through the back of her mind. "I'm not sure why he asked to adjourn - maybe there's a strategy there, but I can't see it yet."

Benny's been thinking the exact same thing, but he has a better idea about how they should approach it. "I can only see one good move for him at this point, so I'm stumped too. But I'm sure we'll be able to analyze better after eating, and we've got until 5 tomorrow to prep you. Townes, you had a rating around 1800 right? If you could help us analyze, we'd really appreciate it."

Townes blinks with an astonished smile. "Me help two Grandmasters? You're sure?"

Benny nods seriously. "The more heads the better. You can bet the Russians will be doing the same thing, especially with Beth getting far enough that they have to take her seriously."

Beth heaves a sigh. "They already did during my Luchenko game adjournment."

Townes chuckles, shaking his head. "Turning chess into a team sport?"

Benny gestures emphatically. "No man is an island," he says, then looks at Beth. "Or woman, in this case."

She looks almost like she's going to cry, but she huffs a little laugh and gives them both a warm look. "...And I really appreciate it."

Once they order dinner, Benny claims the shower so he can get his suit and shirt out for dry-cleaning. He figures it'll also give the two friends time to catch up a bit before they all dive back into chess.

It rankles a little - it's not what he'd had in mind before Townes showed up, but he has to concede that it'll be more effective at keeping them all on task. He can't quite figure out the whole history there: they apparently met at the State championship where she wiped out Beltik back when she was 15, although the way they smile at each other seems to imply some sort of regret on both their parts.

Which is why he can't place that odd sense that this guy really isn't an ex-boyfriend or would-be rival despite the white knight gesture, especially with the way Beth shifted closer to him and held onto his arm in the car to give Townes more space. The two of them were making gossipy small talk about some newly built department store in Lexington when he left to drop off the suit, anyway, which probably means that they don't spend a lot of time together despite living in the same city.

The way they abruptly stop talking and the color in Beth's cheeks when he walks back into the room makes him raise his eyebrows though.

"...Should my ears be burning?"

Townes holds up his hands. "All off the record, I promise. I have to confess, I was curious. The last time I'd seen you two interact was at the Open in Vegas and the relationship seemed… antagonistic."

"Oh, it was," Beth admits with aplomb, rolling her eyes and Benny has to grin.

"I was in her way," Benny explains, not the least bit apologetic.

Beth narrows her eyes in mock outrage. "Thirty moves in Ohio," she reminds him saucily.

"That why you forgave me?" Benny chuckles.

She seems surprised as she considers the answer. "...No."

Huh. Interesting - he'll have to pick at that more later.

Townes is watching both of them with an air of fascination, and Beth hesitates before going on.

"Benny trained me after that. For five weeks, at his place in New York. I thought I knew all about how to analyze positions and calculate, but he helped me take it so much further. I'm still so grateful for that," she says before she looks at him earnestly, and Benny swallows and has to look away.

Damn.

Townes waits when Beth bites her lip. "...I sense a 'but' coming," he ventures.

Benny makes a face and shrugs before speaking carefully. "But due to… a number of things we're still technically… in adjournment."

Beth opens her mouth before closing it again and glancing at Townes, giving him a wan little shrug.

Townes raises his eyebrows before dipping his head slightly. "Understood."

There's a knock at the door and an announcement that their dinner has arrived, and they all deliberately shift conversation back to the tournament.

Once the hurried meal is over Benny gets out his board, Townes works on one he had in his bag, and Beth works on hers in tandem, figuring out ways to open up files or lock in Borgov's pieces, gleefully sharing results wherever one of them comes up with a good sequence. The underlying tension of the Borgov game hanging in balance is still there, but each new possibility they add to the pile for Beth to memorize feels like a possible contribution to a historic game.

It's close to midnight when Beth stifles a yawn and Benny immediately calls things to a halt. "We still have tomorrow to prep," he explains, "and you need to be rested properly. You're way more worn out than you should be after what, 8 days of this?"

"It's not even a full game and this is fun," she protests, but Townes is already getting up.

"It has been a treat seeing the two of you work, I have to say. But I should really get back to my hotel and get in contact with my editor while it's still a decent hour, too," he says smoothly, and Benny gives him a grateful smile. Anybody who keeps Beth's well-being as a priority is a good guy in his books, especially since Beth doesn't always do the same thing.

Once he leaves, Beth makes a beeline for the bathroom to do her usual night ritual and Benny takes the opportunity to call the guys: it's getting to evening in the US, and both the Kentucky chess crew and Arthur and Hilton are thrilled to get the Borgov game well before tomorrow's paper even comes out.

Eager, fresh eyes and minds not clouded with fatigue and jet lag - Benny is grateful he had the forethought to call them in advance to help out in a second shift of sorts.

And with that last contingency plan covered, he figures he's only got one more responsibility tonight.

Beth emerges from the bathroom in pajamas, her hair and skin still glowing from the warmth of the shower. She looks softer without all that sharp eyeliner and scarlet lipstick, but she has a determined look on her face as she walks over even though her eyes are also full of trepidation.

"Benny, we really need to talk."

Just what he was afraid of. "Beth. Stop. Just- hear me out first."

She has that look in her eye, like she's afraid his words are about to hurt, but she nods.

He meets her eyes seriously. "Look, I know you're sorry. And I know I'm also sorry about… a lot. But I think we still need to just table all the rest of it until after tomorrow. The Borgov game has to come first. And… if we figure out things will never work, or if it's all peachy wonderful - either of those could tilt you - bad. Tilt both of us," he admits.

"Tilt?"

"Getting too emotional to play properly. You need to be focused on the game, not how you and I fucking feel. Not yet."

She swallows, hugging herself. "Benny. I just really want to clear the air."

He shakes his head and gestures emphatically. "Yeah, trust me, I do too. But look at how upset even thinking about it gets you. We've avoided hashing this out for three months. What's another day?"

Beth bites her lip and considers for a long moment before she sighs. "...Fine."

"Good." He can tell she's relieved too. And he has the perfect diversion. "Now what you need is to get a good night's sleep. And… I happen to know a great, drug-free way to knock you right out."

She crinkles her nose teasingly, not resisting as he pulls her close. "Oh, really?"

"Mmmhmm. Proven effective and 100% natural," he quips like a commercial, and her smile widens.

"Well, if it's what my second recommends," she says softly, looping her arms around his neck. Her eyes drift shut dreamily as she tiptoes to kiss him, her body melting against his and his heart twists despite what he just said.

He doesn't want to think about what will happen if he doesn't manage this queen capture. It's the smart play not to confront that messy tangle of hurt feelings until after the Borgov game, but he figures a bunch of orgasmic reminders about the benefits of being with him isn't playing unfair either.

They just need to avoid the tears and accompanying confessions, and they've always had great sex without being as vulnerable and needy as last night.

So Benny deliberately takes his time with the foreplay: he's not as worked up as he was yesterday and also because he just wants to enjoy the hell out of her body; refamiliarizing himself with how soft her skin is and how much he loves making her arch and tremble and cry out.

Still, he can see the confused dismay on her face when he turns her away into their usual position once he's got the condom on. And even though he knows exactly how she likes it, it's as if something is distracting her from abandoning herself to the pleasure the way she used to.

Or maybe it's him. It was easier to do this in New York, when he wasn't worried about her feelings and only focused on getting her off. But he doesn't like that pensiveness he's sensing, even if he wants to keep them both on a more even emotional keel tonight.

"C'mon babe. I've got you," he gasps, nuzzling the nape of her neck as he moves. "Doesn't this feel good?"

She leans back into him. "...So good. Always so good, Benny." She starts to move her lower body in rhythm with his. "Is it… good… for you?"

Encouraged by her response, he presses a kiss to her neck and keeps talking. "You're so wet. And warm. God, Beth. Love being… inside you. Oh, fuck!"

He can't help but exclaim when he feels her internal involuntary response. It's like his voice in her ear was all she needed to let go of whatever was inhibiting her, and with that gone, they can both fully enjoy themselves.

He can never get enough of how she can't seem to get enough, how she grips at the sheets and cries out his name and how he can get her to come over and over in cycles.

Once her response starts to fall off, her movements and sounds slowing with replete exhaustion, he takes the cue, getting them both to the peak one last time before he lets himself drive over the edge with her into white hot space.

He always feels clumsy after, so blissed out that all he wants to do is bask in the intense relief and not have to let go of Beth. He's so worn out that he's pretty sure he's going to sleep through until morning, body clock be damned.

But he forces himself to pull out of her and roll to the side of the bed to ditch the condom in the trash. And maybe it's also crossing the line into being too sentimental, but he rolls back to hold her from behind again anyway.

The contented little sigh she gives and the way she hugs his arm close before they both drift off makes him think he made the right call, though.

---

Beth is grateful Benny lets her sleep in again the next day, although she's disappointed that he doesn't kiss her after shaking her awake.

She gets that he's trying to maintain a distance, like he did during the sex last night. It's strategic, so they can stay focused on the game. Still, it has almost the opposite effect: she doesn't like feeling like she had in New York all over again - aching for signs of his affection and hanging onto any tiny scrap. Not knowing where they stand bothers her, but she already knows that talk is going to bring up some ugly truths that might wreck things permanently, even if they both still want each other.

She's not above clinging to those words he said months ago, even if they were meant to be a slap in the face.

The cup of coffee he holds out towards her feels like déjà vu, too.

She takes it automatically and sips. "What time is it?"

"Late. But we've got plenty of time to prep still." He glances at the clock and smiles a little, fidgeting impatiently. "C'mon and get started on breakfast."

He's been busy: his dry cleaned suit and shirt are slung over the chair, still in plastic, and he gleefully reports how he called Hilton and Wexler and that he has lists of moves they've come up with for her.

They're still eating when the phone rings - the first time it's happened the whole tournament. Benny jumps up to answer it immediately, and Beth unaccountably remembers Mr. Booth warning her not to answer it unless it was him calling.

Well, she can honestly say it wasn't her answering, at least. Benny looks pleased with whoever it is on the line, anyway, so it probably isn't Mr. Booth with a change in the schedule.

"Yeah, she's up now. Here - I'll put her on," he says, and he holds out the receiver.

She takes it with a puzzled frown, but he doesn't elaborate, so she puts the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, Beth."

"Harry? "

Her eyes prickle with unbidden tears before she manages a reply. "...Hi. It's so good to hear your voice."

"Hang on," he says, and then she hears, "It's Matt! It's Mike! We're so proud of you!" and has to bring a hand up to her mouth, overwhelmed. She looks up at Benny, who's standing there grinning proudly, and she can't do anything but huff a laugh and shake her head at how he's managed to surprise her again.

She has no idea how he even knew they were friends. And they aren't just calling to wish her well.

"So, uh. Watts asked us to work on ways of opening up your Queen file, and we've got a few methods, depending on what he does - uh, do you have a pen and paper?"

Benny is already proffering a notepad and a pen, and she tilts her head to meet his eye as she takes it.

"Thank you," she mouths, wishing she had better words to express how incredibly grateful she is.

He gives his head that smug little twitch, smiling before ducking close and stealing a kiss.

She ends up having to ask Harry to repeat the sequence of moves, but it's absolutely worth it.

The rest of the afternoon is intense work - the last time she'd drilled the outcomes of a single position so thoroughly was at Benny's, and then it was only theory. This has so much riding on it that she's more than a little daunted, and she wishes for the pills more than once, just to take the terrifying edge off.

It isn't just the idea of defeat at Borgov's hand again, right on the pinnacle of triumph: losing this game might mean losing Benny too, especially with everything he's put into helping her. The memory of him calling her a loser still hasn't healed over, and she doesn't think she can bear his contempt when she's right back to adoring him all over again.

Still, she's desperately glad he's here, even if it gives her that extra hidden pressure - he's been the perfect second: steady and driven all at once. His support means the world right now, and she probably wouldn't have managed without the pills or calling Jolene again otherwise.

The hall is even more crowded than it was for the Luchenko adjournment - the tournament runners must be thrilled to be able to charge for extra tickets on what won't nearly be as long as a full game. She smiles and lifts her hand in a little wave when she sees Townes in a seat too - she's not sure if the media were allowed in because of the grand finale or if he was able to win the lottery for a seat, but she's glad to know there will be another friendly face in the crowd.

She certainly doesn't feel as calm as she tries to look as Benny walks her over to the referee. And he doesn't have any last minute advice - he just looks proud and sure.

"Go beat him," he says.

The flippant words that pop into her head are from what feels like a lifetime ago. "Oh, I'm planning on it."

But she doesn't need bravado in front of him anymore - not for chess, anyway. So she just gives him a little smile and breathes out slowly when he nods and then walks away towards his seat.

The game proceeds quickly at first as both she and Borgov play through predetermined moves. It's almost like speed chess except she doesn't even have to think - they've already calculated out the best moves dependent on how Borgov responds to hers and she and Benny played through each branch until she knew them cold.

So it's startling when Borgov shifts a pawn forward unexpectedly on the 41st move. She can't help looking at Benny - he's frowning too, his hands gripping his knees, but no longer able to say or do anything to help.

Despite the fierce look on his face and all the hours of prep, what happens from this point on is all solely on her again.

She stops and closes her eyes, taking a breath. She can do this. There's plenty of time left on the clock and she's not tired - she can't let her own intimidation defeat her. So she looks up to try to visualize, even without the chemical boost.

And she's exulted to realize she can see it: Mr. Shaibel's old pieces and board, which she automatically sets into position.

She plays the rest of the game through, trying sequence after sequence until she knows what to do.

She looks back at the board in front of her and moves her bishop out of range of his rook, landing neatly among his pawns like a cat among pigeons.

Borgov moves his queen to neutralize it, and she immediately moves a pawn to support the bishop. He's technically a pawn up on her still, but three of them are locked into place now with nowhere safe to move.

All pawns and no hope, she thinks to herself. But that's just the first phase of her endgame.

Borgov frowns and returns his queen to defend in his back rank, thinking for a long moment before he speaks again suddenly.

"Draw."

It's a startling offer, especially from Borgov. He's accepted draws before, but never offered one, and her first desperate impulse is to accept.

Taking it would finally end all this, and she would leave the tournament in a tie with the World champion - something completely unheard of for even Russian grandmasters, nonetheless American players for the last twenty years.

But she's already seen the endgame unfolding in her mind's eye, and it's a thing of beauty. Not letting it come to fruition would be a travesty.

So she shakes her head before she goes on the attack, checking with her queen. He retreats his king and Beth gives chase, her queen devouring his defending knight.

Borgov pounces with a pawn, taking her queen off the board.

It was a sacrifice that had to be made - she swoops her rook in from the very back of the board to take the pawn, leaving his king cornered.

With his best defense left in attack, Borgov checks her king with his rook back on her side of the board. Unperturbed, she moves it one file over to evade. He brings his queen into the fray and then she quietly queens her pawn on his side of the board, and out of the corner of her eye she can see Benny's fingers twitch.

Borgov uses his queen to check and she takes down his last rook with her king, unworried by the next check Borgov follows with. She calmly brings her rook back over to defend, and he checks again, merciless.

But all she has to do is slip her king one space over again to completely disempower his queen. Borgov is now in a hopeless position, down a rook and a bishop, checkmate in two.

She almost can't believe it.

She's done it.

She can feel tears threatening from a wave of emotion, but she manages to lift her eyes to Borgov's to see if he will resign as expected.

He's not glowering or coldly angry. He simply seems tired and resigned to his fate, and he actually smiles.

"It's your game," he says. And then he does something unexpected - instead of laying down his king, he picks it up and holds it out to her. "Take it."

Applause washes over them like a thunderous wave when she does, and Beth finds she can finally smile again.

Borgov urges her to stand and then pulls her in for a hug before standing back to clap effusively, and the roar of noise and everything she's feeling is dizzying.

There's one person she's desperate to see, and she's dismayed momentarily that she can't find him in the crowd - everybody is standing and clapping and she can spot Townes in the back beaming and adding to the noise but-

Benny is standing just behind her clapping, and he looks so proud that she can actually feel her cheeks flush before she laughs as he hugs her.

"God, Beth. You're amazing, you know that?" he murmurs in her ear, and she holds on tight and inhales. There's a soaring feeling in her head and chest almost like she's high, and probably what he said earlier about tilting is true, but she already feels less likely to crash holding on to him.

"You helped," she manages, and he steps back and grins, giving his head a smug tilt before meeting her eyes with sudden concern.

"You okay?"

Her cheeks are still hot and her insides too full with elation, but the furious roar of it is abating somewhat. She does a quick internal assessment before she squeezes his arm and nods.

She's far better than okay. And it's a lot to handle, but she's sure she can do it.

---

She won. She won. She fucking won against Borgov and it was incredible: from queen sacrifice to queening that pawn until finally reducing Borgov's queen… She played the Queen's Gambit to start too - honestly the whole game was a work of art, and Benny is annoyed to find himself increasingly pissed at Booth after instead of getting to revel in it.

He acts like Beth's some political show pony and doesn't even consult her before making arrangements for a speech at some stuffy embassy event that evening instead of letting her celebrate her huge win out. He's been on the pay phone eagerly making plans for her back in the States too, as if he's her agent.

Benny's experienced that crazy VIP whirl after a big win before, but he's never had some government suit try to co-opt that into a political agenda before, nonetheless feel entitled to make decisions about his schedule. And he knows Beth's no slouch at standing up for herself, but Benny ducks out to double-check Balaga's contract with the tournament anyway before he sidles back up beside Booth to wait out the media panel Beth is facing.

Watching her turn his unauthorized agenda upside down might be fun to watch, anyway.

The first chance they have to talk about the game is in the car back to the hotel, and Booth actually interrupts them to inform her about the embassy thing. Benny resists the urge to roll his eyes at the kind of self-important idiocy that displays as he watches Beth's face go from giddily proud to appalled.

"Talking points?" she repeats flatly.

"There will be some prominent members of society attending," Booth says proudly. "You've made a real name for yourself."

Beth blinks. "...Do any of them even play chess?"

Benny finds it hard to hide a smirk.

"Don't be like that. It's not as though you had other plans. You make the speech, have a few cocktail sandwiches, meet the Ambassador and some other important people. It'll help assure American folks that we can beat the Soviets at any game, even their own."

Benny's had enough of this. He scoots forward and speaks up in Russian. "Balaga, it's not far from The National Hotel to Prague Restaurant, wouldn't you say?"

"Prague Restaurant? On Arbat Street? That's right. Maybe five minutes drive?"

"We're staying at The Moscow Palace," Booth snaps.

Benny shrugs. "Townes isn't."

Beth perks up, instantly diverted. "You talked to him after the game?"

"Yeah, he figured it'd be easier than trying to touch base with you with all the-"

Booth interrupts furiously. "Just what do you think you're trying to do? Ms. Harmon is expected at this official function!"

"Even though you booked it without asking her? Didn't think you were that kind of agent."

That renders Booth speechless for only a second before he smirks condescendingly. "You're not her husband or guardian. You have no right to interfere here."

"He doesn't have to be. I can decide what I'd like to do myself, thank you," Beth says coolly, and Benny gives him a slow grin.

He loves it when people are their own worst enemy.

Beth gives him a repressive shake of her head, but Benny's already made his point and knows when to cool it. She takes a deep breath before she speaks, her tone warm and firm. "I appreciate that you're just trying to do your job, Mr. Booth, but I think I've earned the right to have some time off. There are people I have to call as soon as we get back, and I would like to spend what little time I have left here after that with friends who have flown a very long way to support me."

"The Ambassador-"

She continues, undeterred by his outrage, "-will surely understand that I've just been through a strenuous tournament and will need to rest before our long flight home tomorrow. Please convey my gratitude for his support and my apologies, but I really don't feel up to meeting with any more strangers tonight."

It's a very gracious refusal, but something she's just said makes Benny's thoughts stutter to a halt. He's dismayed at his own carelessness - they came here out of step and he should have checked the details right off the bat. He keeps his lip zipped though - they've got things to do before he brings up a brand new problem.

He's not totally tactless either, waiting for Booth to stalk off testily to the hotel bar before he turns back to Balaga and asks him to pick them up again in about an hour. He also urges Beth to go upstairs first so he can stop by the front desk and get their help in booking a table - as expected, the name Elizabeth Harmon produces magic results.

Once he gets up to their room Beth's already on the phone, giggling like he's never seen before, but as she glances at him she suddenly lowers her voice to a murmur.

Benny raises a brow and his grin widens when she blushes and then rolls her eyes.

Yup, caught her talking about him again.

Once she finishes her call, he dials Hilton and Arthur for her so she can pass on the news herself, leaning against the desk and enjoying how flushed and pleased she is as she talks them through the last moves, one of which was their contribution.

The response when they call Mike and Matt (and Beltik, who had stayed to await the results) is even more exuberant, and both of them can't help laughing at how Beth has to hold the receiver away from her ear because all the guys are shouting with glee.

Benny can't be more thrilled with the results of the team experiment. Sure, the phone bill will probably be hefty, but he's sure Beth will agree that the moral support and additional help were worth it.

The last call they make is just to Townes at the National Hotel, to confirm plans Benny had suggested earlier - dinner at Prague in about half an hour for some real Russian fine dining and dessert to celebrate.

Beth's still flushed with happiness after hanging up, almost floating to the bathroom to refresh her makeup before they head out, so he tries to bring it up as casually as possible, leaning against the doorframe.

"So… you said your flight's tomorrow? What time?"

Beth answers lightly, not even glancing at him as she carefully reapplies mascara. "In the afternoon? I can check my ticket - not sure how long we're stopping in Amsterdam for, but I'm glad it isn't non-stop."

Benny nods slowly. "Okay. Damn. Mine isn't until Tuesday at four. Pan Am. You're on Aeroflot?"

Beth's mouth falls open with dismay as their eyes meet in the mirror before she turns to look at him with real consternation. So he tries to make light of it - they're supposed to be celebrating.

"Don't worry about it. I can see if Townes can spare his couch for the night tomorrow."

Beth bites her lip. "Oh. I um. Don't know that his… roommate would be comfortable with that. Although he might understand, you know, considering the circumstances. Hotel rooms are so expensive to book here and Intourist has to set it up beforehand."

Comprehension dawns. "Roommate, huh." It explains a lot - he couldn't understand why Beth hadn't doggedly gone after such a good looking local guy when they clearly enjoy each other's company so much.

Beth puts down the mascara to hurry out to the safe, pulling out her ticket to inspect it. She looks at her passport and the wad of rubles still inside, her expression that quickly calculating one he's seen so many times over the board before she speaks. "I haven't had a chance to use any of the spending money I brought, so I should have enough to extend my stay for a day and get another ticket on Tuesday."

Benny can hardly believe what he's hearing - why does she keep making these insane financial decisions? "And flush your return ticket down the drain? That's a grand, right there! Not to mention the cost of the new one - Jesus, Beth!"

"I can exchange it for another flight within a year," she protests, but it's a paper thin excuse.

"Right, because Aeroflot flies to the States so often," he retorts. "Seriously Beth, don't worry about it. Worse comes to worst, I can overnight it in the airport. Wouldn't be my first time."

Beth looks absolutely horrified by that suggestion.

"Benny. After coming all the way here for me? No. The least I can do is stay an extra day." She lifts her eyes to his and his gut clenches at the fear in them but she keeps going anyway. "...Relationships are supposed to be about compromise, right? Let me do this for you."

He hadn't expected them to throw down cards until tomorrow, well after celebrating her win, with a sleep-in and lots of sex to ease them into it. But even he's surprised by how bitter he sounds.

"Is that what we have? Then why the hell didn't you come back, Beth? Since when do you adjourn a game and not see it through?"

Her eyes brighten with tears but she swallows and looks away, refusing to let them fall.

"Because after Paris I thought… I'd already lost you. There was no point playing it out and wasting both of our time, and ending up stranded in New York on top of that. I'd been living out of a suitcase and not belonging anywhere for months. So I went home."

Benny shakes his head, refusing to concede the point. "Since when do you ever give up when you want something? How many shots did you take at beating Borgov? At beating me ?"

"That's chess, Benny. Not… people." She wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head. "It doesn't matter how crazy you are about somebody or how hard you try. If two people don't feel the same way, it just… doesn't work. And in New York, you made it clear that we weren't… actually anything. Not just to me: to your friends and everywhere we went out - even that poker place."

She scoffs bitterly. "You hate losers, Benny. How was I supposed to win you over after Paris? I just hoped maybe we could stay friends if I stopped bothering you."

Fuck. He knew he'd played his cards wrong, but having her look so miserable thinking back on those weeks makes him feel sick. She'd never minded the power games before - well, okay she'd fucking minded, but having her just try harder with some new tactic had been part of the fun.

It was supposed to be her pride he was wounding, not her.

Besides, he'd been honest in the end, and she'd left him hanging alone in the dark, as if she'd turned off all her feelings like a lightbulb. "…What do you mean bothering me? I told you I missed you. "

She gives him a guilty look, hesitating. "...I missed you, too. But I didn't miss being the latest… hopelessly mesmerized girl, so I couldn't say it. That isn't how I wanted to be with you. With anyone. Even if I'm a drunk and an addict and I make bad decisions."

The tears in her eyes spill over then, and she immediately wipes them away, although she still can't seem to look at him.

"...I understand if that isn't what you had in mind."

"Fucking hell , Beth."

He takes the three steps over to her to grab hold of her, forcing her to look up at him, and the way she flinches like she's bracing for him to end things feels like a sucker punch.

Well, too bad. He's fucking terrified, too. "How can you even think that? You think I flew over 4000 miles on a whim?"

She pauses, blinking with confusion before she lifts her eyes to his. "You kept saying the Borgov game was the most important thing."

"To help you! Because it's important to you. And you're important to me, dammit!"

He pants, suddenly out of indignant frustration, and he searches her eyes. "I want you to get whatever is best for you. …Even if it's not me."

He shakes his head. Fuck. Now he's getting choked up. "But I really want it to be me," he admits.

She searches his eyes, her expression almost pleading. "...I want it to be you, too," she confesses.

She rests her hands on his chest gingerly, as if she's not sure he's real, and there's a flicker of hope in her eyes. "...Stay with me so we can try? Not just tomorrow, but after," she ventures.

The tension in his gut dissolves even as she hurriedly scrambles to support her position.

"I have a garage sitting empty, so you won't have to worry about parking tickets. And Townes says there's a poker table at the baccarat club his roommate is a member of, so you can still-"

"Beth. " God, she's adorable, and pulling her close feels like clinching the sweetest victory, even with the words he's about to say. "...You don't need to sell it, okay? I resign; you win."

She shakes her head, making a little crease between her brows even as she wraps her arms around him. "I resigned first," she insists.

He can't help laughing. Contrary to the last. "...Draw, then?"

She considers with a surprised smile before she nods and tiptoes closer.

He's never concluded a game with a kiss instead of shaking hands before. Draw notwithstanding, maybe that's why it feels like they both won somehow anyway.

---

Beth suspects that this is what a vacation is supposed to feel like. Or maybe even a honeymoon.

It's just one stolen day in wintery, communist Moscow, and the circumstances are hardly perfect: between having to combine the rest of their cash for the extra night's stay and the phone calls, they're too broke to shop like typical tourists or go on the usual Intourist deluxe boat tours.

Still, she knows the hours will forever be emblazoned in her memory as halcyon-bright, full of passionate pleasure and warm laughter and infinite promise. From Benny kissing her awake to make love to spending the day exploring the Red Square, St. Basil's Cathedral and the Kremlin with him and Townes.

Even lining up and eating at the public stolovaya canteens together is an adventure - the carefully portioned Russian food on the tray is often something she's never tried before, flavored with juniper and saffron, and their idea of "dessert" a dried fruit kompot tea or a starchy kissel drink.

It's a far cry from the elaborate Russian feast that first night of the tournament or the expensive meal and decadent cake they'd enjoyed at Prague the night before, but she doesn't mind the simpler food at all - in fact, she actually thinks it's tastier than the canned foods and TV dinners they get at home, and it's far more affordable.

She's sure Mr. Booth would be absolutely scandalized by her opinion. It's a lucky thing he's already flown home, having thrown up his hands in disgust over her being "completely unmanageable" and her "recklessly foolish decisions" when she'd informed him that she would be staying in Moscow an extra night and that he could entrust her safety to Benny, who she'd officially hired as her agent for the rest of the trip.

She thinks it's really a matter of perspective, too: yes, it's a lot of money, but getting to see Russia is always incredibly expensive and difficult, and she's seizing an opportunity that won't come for at least another two years.

It would be really wonderful to attend another tournament with Benny like this - she'll have to bring it up, since he hasn't been playing internationally much either. And now they get to make plans for the future together.

Even the thought gives her a warm thrill - maybe someday she'll still end up like her mothers, but she's so blissfully happy now that she can't help but feel optimistic. Mr. Booth had accused her of thinking with her vagina, and while she has to admit that accusation has some merit to it, she now believes falling in love is a glorious experience that has more to do with mutual regard and understanding, and she doesn't care if the emotions have hijacked her decision making.

Some feelings are rare enough to be worth a little sacrifice.

Besides, it's created the time for something she's been itching to do for days, just a short walk away from their hotel, and also totally free.

Mr. Booth would allow her to take walks in the nearby park as light exercise, and she could see the games the old men would play on the rickety weather-beaten tables: good, sophisticated chess, with solid positions and slight variations she's never seen before. Of course, Mr. Booth had hurried her along when she'd dawdled to try to see how they would play out.

They need to leave for the airport around noon, and they've already checked out and left their suitcases with Balaga, but they still have time left this morning.

Benny rubs and then pats the small of her back and she turns to look at the table he's indicating.

It's the Richter-Rauzer, from the Sicilian. She'd written about it for Chess Review a couple of years ago, and what the man playing black has done with his pawns is unusual but clearly sound.

He looks up, blinking owlishly before he suddenly smiles. "Harmon? Lisabeta Harmon?"

Flustered, she replies automatically. "Da."

He stands and eagerly holds out his hands for her to shake, smiling warmly, and calling out "It's Harmon, the chess player!" Within seconds they're surrounded by players from the other tables who are also excitedly shaking her hand and talking all at once about the tournament and giving their congratulations.

The first man then gestures to a seat, wordlessly asking her to play.

She glances at Benny - she'd only been intending to watch the games, but…

He chuckles and gestures magnanimously and she smiles back, feeling almost like a little girl again. She hasn't played for just the fun of it for so long.

Setting up the pieces is as easy as breathing, creating the stage for any possibility.

"Let's Play."

---

A/N: Aaaand it's done at last. I am aware of the discrepancy between what GMs like Beth and Benny should perceive vs. what the radio host voiceover and the reactions onscreen seemed to reflect, but I tried to create a balance between the two to write this!

I did my best to retcon some of the things that just did not make logical sense to me, and also get Beth to the same ending, but with her people instead of weirdly disconnected phone calls/looks where she doesn't even talk to them? I understand why they did the ending the way they did, without the side of romance, but hey, in AU my faves can get it alllll (and I can fill in plotholes like a boss).

Reviews are always welcome!