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chapter sixty-four: mr. and mrs. shda
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"I LOOK RIDICULOUS."

And she does. Indira Beren really, truly does. The person staring back at her in the mirror looks absolutely nothing like her usual self — which, she supposes, is the purpose of a disguise, but still. With her hair pulled back into an elaborate twisted updo and her face painted with makeup, her reflection might as well belong to a complete stranger. Not to mention the dress — a slinky neon yellow number that clings to her figure like a second skin. It makes Indira feel vulnerable and exposed and she longs for the familiar comfort of her tattered Resistance uniform.

"No," Jessika corrects, her face barely visible through the choppy hologram that Indira had managed to patch through to their ship. "You look hot."

Indira presses her face to her hands. "Gods," she exclaims. "Where the hell did Suralinda even manage to find a dress like this?"

"Trust me," Jess advises, "when it comes to Suralinda, sometimes it's best not to ask."

Indira supposes that Jess would know better than anyone else. Though Suralinda Javos had been absent from the Resistance during most of Indira's time in their ranks, the female Squamatan had once been a key member of Black Squadron before she'd gone off-grid as an undercover journalist for the Resistance. She had a reputation for being resourceful — someone who always had a few tricks up her sleeve — and Indira is starting to see why. Part of her is grateful and the other part is terrified to know that she will be attending the auction with them as Finn's plus one.

"I can't even zip this thing up," Indira complains, taking a seat on the bed behind her. "This plan keeps getting worse and worse."

"Let me see," Kali says from somewhere offscreen before her face makes an appearance in the projection. She does a quick once-over of Indira's appearance before nodding affirmatively. "Jess is right; you do look hot."

Indira lets out a groan.

"Oh, come on, Indi. Lighten up!" Her best friend insists. "You're going to a fancy party! You might as well have a little fun while you're there."

"Ooo, I know what'll help!" Jess chimes in excitedly. "Take a couple shots before you land and you'll have a great time."

"Yeah, no," Kali says, shooting her girlfriend a reproachful look. "Definitely don't do that."

Indira shakes her head at the both of them. "I think you're forgetting one very important detail about all of this," she reminds them. "That the fancy party I'm attending is being hosted by people who want all of us dead. Not exactly my definition of a good time."

"Well, at least you're not breaking into a First Order prison," Jess points out. "I doubt that they're going to be serving us Corellian whiskey where we're going."

"Everything's going to be fine, Indi," Kali reassures her. "And at the end of the night, when we're all back together again, you'll get to tell us all about it. But we're about to exit hyperspace, so we've really gotta go. Just be careful, okay?"

Indira nods, chewing her bottom lip. "You guys be careful, too," she says. Her friends had volunteered to be part of the team led by Antilles that would be liberating prisoners. "Seriously, no pulling any of that charging-into-a-gladiatorial-ring bullshit. Listen to whatever Wedge tells you to do."

"That was one time and it turned out fine!" Jessika huffs. "Would everyone let it go?"

Kali just laughs. "Talk to you soon, Indi," she says with a smile. "We'll see you on the other side."

"See you on the other side," Indira echoes just before the hologram shuts off, leaving her in solitude.

With her friends gone, Indira has no choice but to resume her battle with the zipper on the back of her dress. She wriggles around for a while, managing to work it a little further up her spine before pausing to take a break. The ship gives a sudden jolt that makes her stomach lurch and Indira knows what it means — they've exited hyperspace and they'll be landing soon.

Someone knocks on the door.

"Hey Indira," Poe calls from the other side. "Not to rush you, but we've just entered Corellian airspace and we need to review the plan one more time. You almost ready?"

"Um," she says, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "Sort of? I just ... ugh. I need some help."

There's a pause and then, "Can I come in?"

Indira exhales deeply through her nose before she nods, turning away from the door. "Yeah."

She hears the door slide open and the sound of footsteps entering the room as Poe steps inside the transport ship's tiny bedroom. Without turning to face him, she points at the zipper on her back. "It won't go up."

His voice sounds like he's trying very hard not to laugh. "I ... can see that."

Indira scowls, casting a fleeting glare over her shoulder without really looking at him. "You're supposed to be helping me," she complains. "Not laughing at me."

"You're right; I'm sorry," he amends, stepping closer. "I promise I'm not laughing. It's just that — believe it or not — you're not the first person on this ship who needed assistance with their wardrobe today. I've never heard Finn swear as much as he did while trying to tie his tie."

She lets out a breathy laugh. "Well, it's good to know that I'm not the only one here who's in over their head."

There's a rustle of fabric before Poe closes the gap between them and she can feel his presence behind her before he even touches her. "You know," he says casually, warm hands skimming over the bare skin of her back as he pulls the dress shut. His knuckles brush up the ridges of her spine as he tugs the zipper closed and she resists the urge to shiver. "I never thanked you for agreeing to do this."

Indira stays frozen in place, caught between wanting to both pull away and push back into his hands. "Yes, you did," she replies when she finally remembers how to speak. "You've thanked me at least a half a dozen times."

"Did I?" Poe asks, sounding incredibly distracted.

She swallows with some difficulty, wondering when, exactly, it had gotten so warm. "Yeah," Indira says, counting them off on her fingers. "Once after I finished swearing at you for that very unfunny proposal stunt and agreed to help; twice at dinner last night while I was trying to eat my meal in peace; once this morning when you came banging on my door to wake me up at the crack of dawn —"

"Okay, I get the point," he interrupts sheepishly. "Just wanted to make sure that you know how much I appreciate you agreeing to do this." His hands fall away from her dress. "You're all set."

Indira clears her throat and turns to face him. Her skin seems to burn where he'd touched her and the brief moment of contact between them feels like it was both too long and not long enough. "Thanks —" she begins, pausing to take in his appearance.

Suralinda had hunted down "dapper" party outfits for everyone who would be attending and Poe Dameron was no exception. His fancy garb consists of a black tux and vest, paired with a sheer ascot and a white button-down shirt. The dark, unruly curls atop his head have been slightly tamed with some sort of oil that makes them shine. His face is clean-shaven, save for the mustache on his lip that almost makes her laugh. He appears to be the spitting image of an unscrupulous Canto Bight profiteer. More than that, though, he looks ...

"You look good," Indira blurts before she can stop herself and then she winces. Fuck. "I mean, you look like ... a good example of what a shady businessman from Canto Bight would look like."

Poe grins at the obvious slip-up; so stupidly handsome that it makes her want to throw herself out of the nearest airlock. "That's very high praise, coming from my wife."

"Fake wife," Indira reminds him, feeling flustered.

He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like fake for now, but before Indira can ask him to repeat it, someone bangs on the door. "Mr. and Mrs. Shda," Suralinda calls, addressing them by their fake surname as she pokes her head in the room. "You can continue roleplaying later, but right now we've got a plan that we need to go over."

Poe grinds his teeth together. "Suralinda —"

"Chop, chop, Commander!" She says, snapping her fingers. "We're not getting any younger here!"

Indira follows Suralinda to the cockpit, willing her face to stop burning. Finn and Wesley are already waiting and they're all dressed up and ready to go. Indira thinks Finn looks handsome in his silver suit. It shimmers with every move he makes and she smiles when she sees the silk tie knotted around his neck. Wesley's appearance is a little more jarring. He wears the stiff-collared uniform of a First Order officer and his hair is slicked back, making him look more austere than usual. He seems uncomfortable with the outfit, tugging at the neckline of his uniform and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

"Alright," Poe says grumpily when he joins them. "Let's review the plan one last time before we land. Cover stories?"

Wes goes first. "Lieutenant Wesley Pryde," he says. There's a bitter, mocking edge to his voice. "Proud son of Allegiant General Enric Pryde and First Order loyalist."

"Sadi Vas," Suralinda recites from memory, sounding almost bored. She picks at a loose thread on the violet-hued dress adorning her figure that compliments her cobalt skin and dark hair. "Foreign dignitary and First Order donor."

Finn clears his throat. "Kade Genti," he announces. "Business partner of Lorell Shda. Attending tonight's auction in the hopes of freeing some brothers-in-arms that got caught up in First Order sweeps."

Poe looks at Indira expectantly and she blinks a few times before speaking. "Mari Shda," she says. "Wife of Lorell Shda and accountant for his ... business."

"Lorell Shda," Poe finishes, pointing at himself. "Notoriously wealthy and immoral businessman. Am I forgetting anything?"

They all exchange glances before shaking their heads no.

"Good," he says, satisfied. "Now, as for the plan: we get in, we separate, we let ourselves mingle. Wes, you use your First Order connections to find out where the list is being kept and what kind of security it's under. Once you do that, you link up with me and Indira so that we can get in and steal it. Suralinda, be on the lookout for my signal. You'll stage a diversion during the time of the theft so that most of the security traffic is directed elsewhere. We won't be able to wear comms or bring any weapons in with us, so everyone needs to be vigilant. Keep your eyes and ears open. Any questions?"

"Do we have a contingency plan?" Indira asks. "Let's say: worst case scenario."

Poe nods, licking his lips nervously. "Right. At the first sign of trouble, you get the hell out of dodge. If you think your cover has been blown or that you've been found out or if something just doesn't feel right, make your way back to the ship. We'll rendezvous there by midnight at the latest. Do not risk letting yourself get caught because — like Maz said — these people will kill you, but they'll probably torture you first."

His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument. Suralinda seems unbothered and yawns, stretching her arms over her head. "Relax, Black Leader," she says breezily. "Remember: we're supposed to be guests at a party, so you should at least try and look like you're enjoying yourselves. Who knows? This might even be fun."

Finn grins at that. "The last fancy party I went to ended with me and my friends in a jail cell," he jokes. "We'll have fun tonight, if it's the last thing we do."

"There's the spirit!" Suralinda cries, fanged teeth flashing as she offers a feral grin. "This might get us killed, but at least we go out in a blaze of glory!"

Poe shoots her a warning look and it's jarring for Indira to realize just how much he has changed since their time on the Raddus. A mere matter of months ago, Poe might have agreed with Suralinda's sentiment. Hell, he might've been the one shouting it loud and proud for everyone to hear. Instead, he is now the one urging others to exercise caution and restraint; not quite the hotshot pilot that he used to be.

"How about we don't go out at all," he suggests.

Suralinda shrugs. "Live free, die young," she replies. "Like heroes in a story."

Her commander shakes his head. "Let's just try to stay alive."

Wes, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the flight, chooses to speak up. "Sometimes," he says somberly, eyes trained on the lights outside the window as Coronet City grows closer and closer in the distance, "death comes for you."

A chill of foreboding races up her spine and Indira shivers.

"No matter how hard you try."

"DO YOU THINK THEY RECOGNIZED US?" Indira whispers, her voice low and worried as she clutches Poe's arm. Their pace is a leisurely stroll as they enter the tower (calling it a house seems inadequate, since the structure stretches nearly thirty stories high) where the auction is taking place. Despite their casual gait, Indira feels anything but calm; her nerves thoroughly rattled after they'd been stopped by security at the doors, who nearly recognized Poe. She'd been almost certain that they'd been found out, but the troopers ultimately decided to let them pass and they continued inside without further incident.

"No," Poe says quietly, in what he must think is a reassuring tone. "Otherwise, we'd both be dead."

Indira grits her teeth, keeping the fake smile she'd plastered onto her face from slipping. "Thank you for that reminder."

He winces. "Sorry."

"That was too close," she mutters, ignoring the apology. "Way too close. We should have invested in better disguises."

"I know, I know," Poe acknowledges. "But we're here; we're fine; we made it in. All we have to do now is mingle till Wes gives us the signal."

They make their way further into the building and its interior is undeniably lavish in the sort of way that can only be described as wasteful. Crystal chandeliers dangle from the ceilings, precious metals adorn the furniture, and even the curtains seem to be made of the finest material. Worst of all is the abundance of food, stacked onto towering tables in ridiculous amounts that Indira knows won't be finished by the end of the night.

Her stomach twists as she thinks of the poverty-ridden areas of Coronet City that they'd passed over en route. The fact that there are innocent people starving on the streets while some of the worst beings in the galaxy live in such extravagance makes Indira's blood boil. These people are killers and criminals; murderers and mercenaries. They had made their fortunes by ruining innocent lives and abusing whatever power they had — enslaving children like Elsi and blowing entire planets like the Hosnian Prime to hell — yet the reward for their cruelty was seemingly abundant.

Poe hands her a flute of champagne from the tray of a nearby server and Indira nearly smashes it on the ground out of protest before remembering that the wife of a wealthy businessman would most definitely not act that way. Reluctantly, she sips at the drink while letting her anger fester beneath fake smiles and forced conversation as Poe makes introductions for them with the other guests. Still, she must not be doing a very good job at hiding her obvious disdain for the crowd around them because Poe eventually pulls her to the side to speak with her.

"Sweetheart, you seem tense," he says through a tight-lipped smile, leaning in close to keep the conversation to a hush.

Indira grits her teeth. "Do I, darling?"

His voice drops even lower. "Seriously, what's up?" Poe asks. "If you grip your glass any harder, I'm pretty sure that it's going to break."

One of the couples that they'd mingled with earlier walks by, waving as they pass. Indira smiles and returns the gesture with a wiggle of her fingers before whispering, "I hate all of these people."

Poe laughs as if she'd said something charming and witty. "Believe me, I feel the same."

"All this money, all this power ..." Indira shakes her head. "They could be using it to help — using it for good — but all they care about is themselves. If even a few of them gave their support to the Resistance, it could change the tide of the war. More than that, though — they could change the lives of people everywhere who are struggling to survive. But they don't. They won't."

"I know," he mutters, voice low. "But we've gotta fake it — just for tonight — and then we can make sure that all of these shitty people are held accountable after we win the war."

Indira knows that he's right. It is the fundamental nature of the Resistance. They have to pick and choose their battles while their numbers are scarce and their forces are weak; make compromises and sacrifices in the short-term for the sake of their end goal. But part of her is starting to get weary of having to watch injustice go unpunished.

"Mr. and Mrs. Shda, is it?" A male voice inquires.

Indira almost jumps and the arm Poe has around her waist tightens out of reflex. They turn around slowly, finding themselves face to face with an older man wearing the decorated uniform of a First Order officer. Indira finds something familiar about his gaze and she worries that they've met before.

"Yes?" Poe asks hesitantly.

"I don't believe we've been acquainted," the man replies, examining their appearances in a way that seems clinical. "Allegiant General Enric Pryde," he says extending a hand and that explains it.

Indira's breath catches in her throat. She wills her fingers not to tremble as she grasps the hand of Wesley's father and shakes it, resisting the urge to recoil when he pulls it to his lips. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"I hear you are acquainted with my son," Pryde continues, letting her hand fall. "He spoke very highly of your business endeavors. Perhaps you might consider lending your services to our cause."

"What cause is that?" Indira asks boldly, meeting the challenge in his stare.

Pryde's soulless eyes bore into hers. "Establishing order, of course, my dear. The galaxy is in chaos. Someone must bring back the balance and our Supreme Leader will be the one to do it."

Chaos that he created, she wants to spit back at him, but Indira bites her tongue.

"We are but humble servants of Supreme Leader Ren," Poe says, barely managing to keep the mockery out of his tone. "It would be our honor to serve him in any way possible."

"So you say," the general replies skeptically. "Although, I must confess that I am wondering what has brought you and your wife to tonight's event. Surely, not the list of traitors that will be auctioned. It would disappoint me to learn that you were tied to any of that scum."

Poe laughs and the sound reminds Indira of sharpened steel. "I'm ashamed to say that we did come for the list," he admits. She shoots him a warning glance. "But not for personal reasons. This is purely a business venture. A few debtors of mine have gone missing and I am eager to find them so that I might receive what I am owed. I thought this list could be of use."

"Ah," Pryde says knowingly, nodding his head. "I fear that may not be possible. Anyone who is on that list is now property of the First Order. Their wealth, their bodies, their possessions — it all belongs to us. I do hope you understand."

Indira forces a smile onto her lips even as her stomach rolls unpleasantly. "Of course," she agrees, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "Traitors deserve nothing less."

Pryde smiles, but none of the warmth reaches his eyes. "I am glad to hear you think so," he replies. "Enjoy the rest of the party. And I do hope you'll reconsider the auction. It would pain me to see such ... potential go to waste."

She doesn't let herself exhale until he is far, far away and Indira is sure he will not hear it. Her posture slumps and she rests her head on Poe's shoulder, justifying it by telling herself that it's only to keep up with their appearance as husband and wife.

"Nice guy," Poe jokes weakly. "Can you believe that's Wesley's father?"

"People aren't always their families," Indira says, thinking of her sweet aunt and the terrible son she'd been given; of her own father and his father before him, who made the galaxy bleed. "Blood isn't something that we can choose."

"I know," he amends quietly, the words spoken into her hair. "Sorry. Bad joke."

"Do you think he knows?" She whispers. "He seemed suspicious. What if he —"

Poe shakes his head. "No," he says firmly. "If he knew, we'd both be —"

"Don't say it," Indira interrupts, covering his mouth with a hand. "Don't kriffing say it."

Thankfully, he grants her that request and lets the words die on his lips. "What he said about the list, though," Poe mutters under his breath. "It was almost like he was ..."

"Threatening us?"

"More like warning us," he replies, brow furrowing. "But why?"

"Boo," someone says near Indira's ear and she nearly shrieks before she realizes that it's just Suralinda and Finn. The two of them are holding plates loaded with food, wearing twin expressions of glee.

"Damn it, Suralinda!" Poe hisses through clenched teeth.

"Stop standing around," she says, cutting him off before he can start scolding her in earnest. "Eat or drink or dance, but do something. You two stick out like a couple of sore thumbs."

"Try the buffet," Finn suggests, taking a bite out of something gelatinous on his plate. "I'm sticking it to the First Order by stealing all their fancy food."

Indira's brow furrows. "What is that?"

"Who cares?" He replies with a shrug. "It's delicious!

Poe takes a closer look. "Are those ... sea worms?"

Finn shoves the rest of the delicacy into his mouth and Indira shudders. "De-lic-ious."

"Suddenly, I've lost my appetite," she says, feeling queasy.

"Dancing it is," Poe agrees.

They make their way to the dance floor and join the array of couples already swinging to the jazzy melody playing overhead. Indira scans the crowd of faces for Wes, anxious to find him so they can get on with the next part of the plan, but there's no sign of him yet. With a sigh, she resigns herself to dancing and allows herself to be swept up in Poe's arms.

She determinedly does not think about the last time they shared a dance together.

"You look beautiful, by the way, Mrs. Shda," her fake husband tells her, voice low and teasing. "I should have told you sooner; especially after you were so quick to compliment me earlier —"

Indira huffs indignantly. "You're a di —" a couple spins by, close enough to hear "— fficult man, Mr. Shda. Do you know that?"

He feigns innocence. "Is a man not allowed to tell his wife that he thinks she looks beautiful?"

She tries to shoot him a stern look and fails; unable to stop herself from smiling. "Dick," she mouths silently.

Poe grins before he spins her out and Indira is grateful that Suralinda chose to give her practical heels to match her ridiculous dress instead of something awful and deadly and pointy that she would have undoubtedly broken her neck in. There's a tug and then she's spinning back towards Poe, finding herself in his arms again as the song changes to something slower.

The hand on the small of her back pulls her close, gentle yet firm at the same time, and Indira presses her cheek to his shoulder as they sway. It feels nice to be held by him. She doesn't bother with making excuses for why — she just wants him to hold her.

"You know, the last time we were together like this, we got interrupted," Poe says casually, his tone almost conversational, and Indira can feel the vibrations under her cheek.

She exhales slowly but doesn't pull away. "We did, didn't we?"

"You never answered my question that night," he reminds her quietly. "What were you going to say before everything went to shit?"

Indira purses her lips. "Pretty sure now is not the time for this conversation."

Poe shakes his head. "On the contrary, I think it's the perfect time."

"You really believe that right now is the best time to do this?" She repeats. "When we could be interrupted at any moment?"

"A simple yes or no answer would suffice, sweetheart."

"What if you don't like the answer I was going to give you?" Indira asks, because it's not that simple.

If she were to be fully honest with him — if she were to tell him exactly what she would have said weeks ago, when her grief was still a gaping wound; too raw and too fresh and too fragile for her to even consider the possibility of opening her heart again — her answer would have been no.

"What then?"

He sobers up immediately and she can physically feel the change in the way his body stiffens. "Then I would understand," Poe says, his voice pained but wholly sincere. "And I would let you go for good."

Indira pulls back to look at him. "Poe —"

He avoids her gaze, staring at a point over her shoulder. "Wesley is waiting at the bar," he informs her, clearing his throat. "We should go."

He doesn't give her the chance to finish speaking, stepping away and walking swiftly in the other direction. For a moment, Indira just stands there before swearing under her breath. This had been the exact reason that she wanted to wait to have that particular conversation, when there was more time for her to explain everything and there was less of a chance that disaster would strike and leave them with words left unsaid. Yet the universe seemed determined to keep screwing her over.

She catches up with Poe at the bar and finds him sipping a Corellian whiskey, blending in with the other patrons. Wesley slides up next to them, shaking Poe's hand in greeting as if they are nothing more than casual acquaintances, but Indira catches sight of a medallion being passed between their clasped hands before Poe tucks it into his sleeve.

Wes then waves the bartender down and orders a drink, drumming his fingers on the surface of the bar in a particular rhythm while he waits. Indira listens carefully, picking out the short and long sounds of Dadita — a code composed entirely of sounds meant to spell out words and numbers. When he finishes tapping, Indira casually knocks on the counter a few times to convey that she'd understood his message and Wes offers her the barest hint of a smile before taking his drink and leaving.

Poe looks over at Indira, brow furrowed. "What —"

She presses herself close to him and drapes an arm over his shoulders to whisper in his ear the way a lover might say something dirty. "There are two lists," Indira informs him. "The first is intended for the auction and it's a fake, but the other one is real. The First Order never planned on selling their secrets to the public. Any of the bidders from tonight were going to be a arrested and put into labor camps or prisons."

Poe grips her hip, tugging her closer. "Of course," he laughs bitterly, mouth grazing her shoulder. "Just like Maz said."

"The real list," Indira continues, murmuring the words into the skin of his neck just beneath his jaw, "is here on the top floor. The medallion will allow us access to it and once we loop the footage on the cameras, it should be ours for the taking. Security will be light. They don't think anyone knows about the two lists and they definitely don't believe that anyone is brave enough to steal it."

"More like stupid enough," Poe mutters. "Or arrogant."

She shrugs. "That too."

He looks down at her and the expression on his face is surprisingly vulnerable. "Are we really doing this?"

Indira swallows thickly before nodding and saying, "We're doing this."

"Okay," Poe exhales. "Then I'll give Suralinda the signal."

"Wait," Indira says, grabbing his wrist. "About earlier —"

He pulls away in a heartbeat. "It's fine," Poe replies brusquely. "Don't worry about it."

"Poe," she hisses, but he refuses to look at her; devoting his attention to catching Suralinda's eye from across the room. When he finally gets her to look, he subtly scratches his forehead in a particular way that she mimics, showing that she'd received his message loud and clear. "You didn't even let me finish —"

He tips back the rest of his whiskey and pushes back from the bar just as Suralinda starts to wreak havoc. "Let's go."

THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR IS EERILY QUIET. There's not a single person or droid in sight when Indira and Poe take their first few steps out of the elevator, peering around corners before hurrying down the shadowed corridor. "You got the cameras?" Poe whisper-yells over his shoulder and Indira nods, making a beeline for the nearest electrical panel. She rips the door open and studies the circuitry inside before rewiring it as quickly as she can.

"Should be clear," she says when she's done, hurrying to catch up with him. "Do you think Suralinda will be alright?"

Poe barks out a laugh. "Trust me," he says. "Suralinda can take care of herself. I'm more worried for them."

Her brow furrows. "Who's them?

"Everyone else."

A patrol droid floats down the end of the hallway and they both duck behind the nearest corner, waiting for it to pass. Once it moves on, they resume their hasty retreat towards the door at the end of the hall where Wesley had promised that the list would be waiting. Poe fumbles with the medallion before shoving it into a slot just outside of the door and it slides open, allowing them access to ... an empty room.

"There's nothing here," Poe says, running a hand through his hair and mussing the curls that had been slicked back.

"No," Indira murmurs, stepping further inside. "It has to be here somewhere."

"There's nothing here," he repeats angrily, banging his fist against the nearest wall.

Indira shoots him a warning look, ready to scold him, but the hollow clang makes her pause. "Wait," she says, brow furrowed. She raps on the wall again, holding a finger to her lips as she listens to the sound echo.

Poe's eyes widen before he begins feeling around the walls, pressing against the panels while muttering under his breath. "Please be a secret door, please be a secret door ..."

One of the panels gives way, lurching forward to reveal a hidden compartment in the wall.

"I knew it!" Poe says, delighted.

A single data chip rests inside — the list — and Poe snatches it up, tucking it into a hidden pocket in the jacket of his tux. "Let's go," he says without further ado, charging through the door they'd come in from.

As soon as they step foot outside the room, an alarm starts to blare. Indira shoots Poe a worried glance that he returns before they're both sprinting towards the elevator. He slams the button multiple times, but the doors refuse to open.

"Shit," Poe swears. "They've shut the elevators down. They must be on to us."

"Stairs?" Indira asks.

He nods. "Stairs."

The two of them race down the corridor in the opposite direction, skidding to a stop at the end of the hall. Indira tears open the door to the stairwell and they both tumble through it just as they hear the sound of the elevators opening and the mechanical voices of stormtroopers. She curses her shoes and her ridiculous dress as she hurries down the steps, bunching the fabric up to keep herself from tripping.

They make it nearly three flights down before the sound of another door opening echoes through the shaft. Poe freezes before he grabs Indira by the wrist and tugs her through the nearest door and they abandon the stairwell entirely.

"Come on, come on," Poe mutters, dragging Indira down the hallway and into what looks like an empty conference room.

"What —" she yelps.

"We're going to get caught," Poe cuts her off and she sucks in a short, sharp breath. "There's no way around it."

Indira wets her lips with her tongue, swallowing nervously. Her head pounds in time with her heartbeat and sweat prickles at the back of her neck, yet she somehow still feels cold. "If they catch us, then we're —"

This time, it's him that shakes his head. "Don't say it."

She nods and does her best to slow her ragged breathing. "Alright," Indira decides. "We need an alibi, then."

Poe runs a hand through his hair. "Got any ideas?"

She raises a brow at him,

"Oh," he says. "That kind of alibi."

And then he's kissing her.

Indira kisses him back, allowing him to hoist her up onto an empty table so he can step between her legs. His mouth tastes like whiskey and something else that distinctly belongs to him and gods it's really not the time to think about it, but Indira hadn't realized just how much she missed kissing him. Really missed kissing him.

Her fingers tear at the tie around his neck and she pulls it loose, tossing it to the ground. She works at undoing the buttons of his jacket and his vest while he fumbles with the buckle on his belt. One of his hands slides up her thigh, pushing her dress higher to give the appearance of indecency before he pauses and pulls back to look at her.

"This is fine, right?" He asks breathlessly, eyes wide and lips swollen and they're about to die, but gods he really is pretty.

"If it weren't for our current circumstances, it would be wildly inappropriate," Indira says and she almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, even though nothing is funny about their predicament. "But right now I'm willing to make an exception."

Poe grins, reaching up to pull some of the pins out of her hair so that it falls over her shoulders in waves. "Sweetheart," he says, leaning down to kiss her again, "that's sort of my specialty."

When the door to the room goes flying open moments later, they appear to be thoroughly indecent. "Freeze!" One of two stormtroopers commands with his gun drawn. Indira and Poe break apart immediately, feigning shock. She pulls her dress down with a shriek as if she'd been exposed underneath and slides off the table onto the floor with a thump while Poe fumbles with his belt. Silently, Indira prays that it's convincing enough to save them. "Don't move!"

"Well, this is embarrassing," Poe says, slurring the words as if he's drunk. "We're, uh, very sorry, officers. Thought that me and the missus could sneak off from the party and —"

The two stormtroopers exchange a look behind their helmets. "Get up," one of them barks at Indira and she pretends to sway on her feet once she stands.

"We'll make a big donation," she offers, slowing her words like she's having trouble speaking. "We're very rich."

Poe giggles — legitimately giggles — and Indira almost glares at him for laying it on too thick. "It's true," he agrees. "We are very rich. And sorry. So sorry! This is ... ina-ina-inaprobriate."

Seconds pass without incident and Indira feels panic rising in her chest. They don't believe us, she thinks. We're dead, we're dead, we're so, so dead —

But then one of the troopers lets out a noise of disgust. "Let them go," he sneers, putting his blaster away. "They're just a couple of useless drunks. We're wasting our time." He prods Poe with an armored hand. "Get your lady and get out."

Poe snatches his jacket up from the ground, leaving his shirt halfway unbuttoned and abandoning his tie and vest entirely. "Thank you, gentlemen," he slurs, offering the troopers a lazy two-fingered salute before he grabs Indira by the hand and staggers from the room. "You're very kind. Good men. The best sort of fellows!"

He starts to hum loudly and Indira slams the button for the elevator, breathing a sigh of relief when she sees that it's still operating on their current floor. She drags Poe inside with her as soon as the doors open, waving at the stormtroopers who are still watching their every move. Only once the doors shut does she allow herself to slump against the wall.

"Oh my gods," Indira heaves, bending at the waist. "I'm gonna puke. My body literally cannot handle the stress."

Poe lets out a triumphant whoop, punching a fist into the air. "We're not dead!"

"Keep it down, would you?" She hisses. "We are not in the clear yet."

He just grins at her, eyes bright and dancing from the adrenaline. "Relax," Poe tells her as the elevator lurches, coming to a stop on the seventh floor, where the rest of the partygoers are waiting. "The worst is over now. All we have to do is find the others and we can walk on out of here. That'll be a breeze compared to what we just —"

The doors open without warning and the sound of people screaming fills the air. Chaos has engulfed the auction floor; smoke rising as blaster fire echoes in the distance. It's definitely not a party anymore.

Indira shoots him a reproachful look. "You were saying?"

Poe just swears. "Suralinda!"

a/n: once again i am having to split chapters into two parts bc it would have been too long otherwise 🤡🤡 but this chapter and the next three are sort of back-to-back-to-back anyways so be,,,, ready for that. it's gonna be a lot!!!! i'm not even ready for what's about to happen 😳 ANYWAYS!!! i honestly don't know what to say about this absolute mess of a chapter 🥴 peep @ all the marvel references bc 🤪 i'm irritating!!!! special thanks to daredevil for the inspo behind the heist scene 😗 MORE TO COME ON... EVERYTHING (?) IN THE NEXT CHAPTER 🤠 LET ME KNOW UR THOTS!!!!!

^^^ poe and indira stepping out of the elevator

POSTED ON:
02.19.20