Two Sides

Drugged

"Don't leave a bruise this time," I say, glaring at the med droid. 

The crook of my right arm is sore and marred with a livid blue splotch. Mechanical phlebotomy isn't something I'd place on the list of beneficial scientific advancements.

"Dietary deficiencies are the leading cause of bruising," says the droid in its monotone voice. "You are deficient in both vitamins C and K. I am prepared to provide dietary guidance in correcting these imbalances." 

"No, I don't want dietary guidance. Just hurry up." 

The droid was here earlier, taking blood samples, and now it's back. I cannot think of a single reason why Lord Carias would want my blood. The droid doesn't know. There seem to be an army of droids on the ship. I haven't seen any other humans. They've taken blood from Ben, too, but he's still lying on the bed and out cold. I've been awake for hours, but I don't have good control of my limbs and I'm sluggish. I tried to attack the first droid that poked me awake, and ended up in a heap on the floor, the droid pinned beneath me, unable to get up. A bigger droid came and heaved me, not so gently, back onto the bed. 

The droid secures the samples it collected into a recessed cavity and leaves the room. There's a sally port system outside, which makes it nearly impossible to escape. Not that I could move fast enough to even try. We're in some kind of luxury suite. The furnishings are sparse, and lack any materials that could be fashioned into weapons. There's a full bathroom with a shower, but I haven't regained enough of my strength to take one. I can't detect any cameras, but I'm sure we're being watched. 

I curl up beside Ben, willing the heaviness and lethargy to lift. I check his pulse and breathing over and over, assuring myself he's well. And I drift into hazy naps, my brain filled with cotton and my dreams incoherent and discordant. Ben's groan draws me out of my most recent drifting.

"What the fuck," he mumbles, trying to raise himself up without success. 

One eye cracks open and trains on her. "Rey?" 

Then both fly open, his rage chasing away the rest of the confusion. 

"Don't struggle. You've been out for a long time." 

"How long?" 

"Well, longer than me. What do you think he gave us?" 

"A high dose of some nasty drug," says Ben, testing his hands. "I only ate what he ate and drank what he drank. How did he manage it?" 

The struggling stops, and he becomes very still. I help him sit, pulling on his arms and countering my weight against his to tug him fully up. He's able to shift back against the wall. It took me much longer to gain control of myself. Ben closes his eyes for a while, and I wait. 

"I can't feel the Force," he says finally. 

I blink in surprise, a little embarrassed that I didn't think to try that yet. And when I do, the absence is plain. Ben grimaces. 

"So much for secret conversations."  

"So much for actually defending ourselves. I depend a lot more on the Force than you do. It feels like my entire insides have been carved away. It feels awful." 

He does look a little green. "Do you want some water?" 

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and after a few minutes, tries to stand. His legs fold beneath him and he topples over with a grunt. I drop down beside him. My legs are much better adjusted. He places a calming hand on my back and stops me from trying to lift him. 

"This won't do," he grumbles. "Can you walk?"

I stand and take a few steps. I'm not fast, but I don't fall. I move around the room, searching for anything that might help. There aren't any panels on the wall. The bathroom stops me in my tracks. While the bedroom is plush and pretty, this bathroom is fit for an emperor. It's bigger than the bedroom. There is a large soaking tub that could fit four people, and a shower room. I dig through the recesses, finding plenty of plush towels. There are soaps and oils in small plastic bottles, and an electric razor. I snatch it up and walk back into the bedroom, holding my prize.

"I found a razor." 

"Is it sharp enough to cut that bastard's throat?" He glances up and me and frowns in disappointment. 

"No, but it will take care of your face. Come on." 

I return to the bathroom and test the water in the shower. It's hot and there's no sign it will stop. I don't dare fill up the tub. If we aren't fully recovered and I've had enough of the threat of drowning. Ben manages to get himself into the bathroom, through a combination of crawling and then shambling and leaning heavily on me. 

"There are seats in the shower." 

I help him out of his clothes and into the shower. The room is steamy and warm. I sink into my own seat and work on flexing my muscles. 

"This is probably the safest place for us to talk," says Ben. He stands and stretches. It irritates me how much faster he's able to shrug off the effects of the drug. He works with the electric razor until his face is once again smooth, my scar in clear view. "The creeper might be recording us in here, but if we're quiet, he won't be able to hear it over the sound of the water." 

He drops down in front of me and folds me into his arms, his mouth at my ear, his smooth cheek pressed against mine. I'm struck mute, and nod. Ben's chuckle rumbles through me. The delicious heat of the water seeps into me, and the muzziness lifts. 

"We'll find a way out of this," he says. "And in the mean time, I intend to enjoy you thoroughly." 

"That won't be very quiet," I murmur. My body is screaming for him, buzzing with anticipation. 

"Oh, I intend to make sure of that."