Archive of Our Own

Their first interaction after Beth’s victory in Moscow took place not in a gray concrete box masquerading for an apartment in New York, nor in a renovated, cleaned, and recently booze-free household, in Lexington, but over a chessboard in Las Vegas.

“Will you start my clock?”

Across from her, Beth saw a small, subtle smile on his lips, its corners sitting just below a golden lock she never remembered falling there before; Benny started her clock.

One can only assume the number of times they almost called each other, almost flew across the country, almost spoke face to face. But those times mattered no longer; they were here to play.

The game was just 4 moves in, a typical Sicillian position. Beth went through the motions, followed opening theory, and captured the knight on queen’s bishop 3. Both of them knew this position very well. Benny, however, did not recapture the pawn. Beth bit her tongue in confusion.

At first, Beth thought she had missed an obvious tactic, or a simple intermezzo that would make her look like a fool and end her career on the spot. But as the minutes passed, the faster Beth shook her leg, the more audible her foot tapping was. A player at their level never took this long on such a simple move.

What is he playing at? Just take the damn bishop, Benny!

Beth, however, felt a heavy gaze, and looked up from the board to see Benny, staring right at her. She’d seen that look before. It was the look he gave her in their first lesson of her five-week stay in his apartment. His eyes were wide, inviting, but tinged with a bit of smugness and attention-seeking charm. To the spectators, it was an odd sight to see. Both players’ eyes were aimed not at the board, but at each other. It was like a mirror arose beneath the table in between the two of them.

Jolene had once quipped to Beth that she and Benny could be twins and it may be so, considering how they could communicate silently, almost telepathically. Possibly due to all they shared: their unorthodox social skills, their obsession with chess, and their frustration to the “no-sex rule” that Benny slyly imparted in Ohio, they developed a way to talk without outright saying words.

They had honed this secret language the night of the three-way simultaneous speed chess games between Beth and the boys. While everyone else in the room was focused on Beth’s next move, Beth was focused on Benny’s next secret word that he would slip in his slightly stupored state. But was Benny seriously willing to use up his clock and potentially throw the match, just to converse with her on the board?

Beth was annoyed at how easily Benny can command her a conversation, but she trusted he wouldn’t just psyche her out for a game. Even though it was his move, he still was waiting for her response, allowing her an out if she needed it. She succumbed to Benny’s silent request and lightly nodded. In light of her nod, he finally recaptured; the real conversation began.

Beth castled kingside, an uncharacteristically safe move for her, but Benny had once suggested to play a move like it in a similar position, signaling him that she did remember her time in New York with him. Benny tipped his hat in response.

He was rusty with the language and lacked Beth’s elegance with the unspoken word. It wasn’t much of a surprise; he learned that Beth’s understanding of Russian was far beyond his on the nine-hour drive to New York.

Beth shot him a look.

In fairness to Benny, though, Beth’s stoic face was the hardest to read. No other player, friend, or adopted mother could have guessed what she was thinking when she put on that face. But Benny roughly translated her look to:

‘Where do we begin?’

And where should he have begun? She clearly remembered New York; he started there.

‘Why didn’t you come back?’

Benny played pawn to king’s knight 4; a risky move. He left his king in the center wide open for Beth to take advantage if she wanted.

‘Because your place was a mess and I didn’t like sleeping on your shitty air mattress.’

Benny didn’t make her sleep on the air mattress for her last two of five weeks with him, though his place really was a mess. She grinned while blitzing out knight to king’s knight 4 with a playful thud when she landed the piece on the white square.

Benny didn’t budge, and instead simply castled queenside; she missed her chance.

‘I could’ve been your second in Moscow. Why didn’t you accept the Crusade’s money?’

Beth glanced at the ceiling, as if her answer were hanging above their heads. She peered back down and faintly smiled. Benny couldn’t read exactly what the smile meant, but based on how she answered his first question, he assumed that it was another half-answer. He thought of prodding her again, of asking about her silence in the face of his vulnerability. Beth must have known how hard it must have been for him to muster up the words “I miss you,” and he wasn’t sure if he was willing to let his heart break again.

But before Benny could come up with another question, Beth threw him a question of her own.

‘I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me. Why did you call me from New York?’

Benny sucked in air through his teeth as he captured Beth’s rook on king’s knight 2. A few moves later, he answered.

‘I–’

Or at least, Benny tried to answer. Instead, he blitzed out a move, which confused Beth; he was clearly in an advantage, and he decided to squander it for a quick draw. His refusal to answer her question puzzled her, too. For Beth, at least she put the effort to answer his questions, even if they were half-answers. She thought about punishing Benny and his inelegant technique, although she sharply remembered playing against this version of him.

She recalled herself playing speed chess with him in Ohio: just as embarrassed, ashamed, and something else with each repetition of Benny’s “again.” She also recalled herself playing speed chess again in New York City: triumphant, adrenaline-pumped, and that same certain feeling every time when she beat Benny at blitz in his own home in front of his friends and his ex, but she still had that certain feeling she had in Ohio, even if she won the games.

Her epiphany came a little too late; in this current game, they both were blitzing out their moves.

The spectators were shocked to witness the game in front of them; Elizabeth Harmon and Benjamin Watts were playing speed chess in a classical time control.

Both players eschewed writing down their moves on their scoresheet for playing their moves as fast as possible instead. It was almost comical that the players even bothered to click their clock, considering how swiftly they were playing and how much time remained on both their clocks, in spite of Benny’s 10-minute deficit from seconds ago.

It wasn’t just the speed of pieces moving that was shocking; it was how they played them. The thuds of pieces clattering on the floor echoed loud through the entire Mariposa Hotel.

The arbiters were shocked, as well. No one in the room seemed to have kept track of the number of moves that were played. Someone must have been violating a rule or regulation, but in reality, could the rule makers of such a formalized and elite sport have even imagined a situation like what was taking place? Perhaps a new rule would have come to fruition after this game. It will likely be called the “Harmon-Watts rule” and both players will wince at the idea of having their names that close to each other written on official documents.

The sounds that echoed throughout the entire hall could have been akin to a horse galloping as the pieces of wood collided, clacked, and slid. The sudden shifts between prolonged inhales and rapid-fire exhales were hard to ignore. After a flurry of however many moves (15? 30? 50?), Benny placed an elbow on the table, his arm straightened upwards, and his hand pointed towards Beth. Despite his overly expressive gesture, Beth looked at his hair first, and eyes second.

“Draw?”

If a draw was his plan all along, he really outdid himself. The position became bone-dry of any winning chances for either player in spite of the madness that ensued. Beth was planning on very audibly saying “no”, but that feeling from Ohio, from New York City, from every time they played blitz was too much to ignore for a dry game.

“Draw.”

They shook hands. Unlike their first formal handshake an hour ago, the contact was firm. Benny’s ring dug a few millimeters too deep into Beth’s fingers. Beth smiled as she saw Benny’s lock of hair finally brushing away from the corner of his lip. Benny smiled as well and whispered,

“Let’s go up.”