Chapter Text
You can't sleep. Your mind is too full, your stomach too empty. The children’s screams still echo loudly, deafening. You try your best to ignore them. It wasn't your fault. It's not even your memory.
You imagine an ocean, warm and vast, endless. You think about drifting, of calmness, try to settle your mind.
It doesn’t work.
The ocean you dream of pulls you under its turbulent waves. The calm becomes a tempest, violent and wild. You hear them again, the children, begging as their lives are ended and Ben– Ben begging hardest of all.
Don’t make me do this, please don’t, not this.
A low laugh, deep and cruel.
“This is but your first test, child. You will assuredly be great but you must remove these attachments to the light. They will only bind you and drag you down to wretchedness. When the time comes, you must be rid of all of your attachments. Even the one you hold most dear. I will allow this weakness for now but one day, it must be purged from you. And now, Ben Solo, it is time to earn your new name.”
You wake screaming with the echoes of Ben’s grief and the children’s cries still ringing in your ears.
Months later, the voice finds you.
You’re fourteen, helpless and alone and terrified. The same bodiless entity you hear in your dreams reaches out to you, curls dark and heavy in your mind. It forces aside Ben’s weakened pleas ( No, not Aeden, don’t—) and tears Ben from your mind. Ben’s voice is suddenly brutally silenced and there is nothing of him left.
Where Ben once was is a gaping void, dark and raw and painful beyond anything you’ve ever felt. You’re sure you’re screaming, you feel like you’re dying. You hope so; nothing feels worse than this loss, this ache.
But the voice. It slithers viscous like tar over the wound it just made, blocks the pain from you until you’re numb and cold. It fills the void Ben left and sits heavy; it chokes the breath from you.
And then it begins to whisper softly, seductive in its Darkness. It offers you power unlike anything you’ve ever known. Dark promises whispered to the destitute and melancholy. Everything hurts, so so much. You're so desperate, so lonely ( Ben– Ben is gone ).
It shows you the past, the future. It shows you terrible things, great things– what you can become. It offers you the galaxy.
And how can you refuse? How can you know any better?
What choice do you have?
*
Even now, fifteen years later, you can still hear their screams in the dark silence that surrounds you in space.
And you can’t sleep.
*
Ren is watching again.
He’s always watching when he doesn’t think Hux notices, especially when he’s in the shooting sims.
His gaze is heavy even behind the damnable mask and Hux’s shoulders prickle uncomfortably with the scrutiny. He shakes it off, refuses to be intimidated by him. He knows from experience, Ren inexplicably will not leave until Hux is finished, no matter what he does or says.
Hux squares his stance, raises the blaster in his hands and releases six precise shots. The shots find their targets in quick succession, dispersing into the four projected human shaped holograms.
Hux lowers the blaster to let it recharge, feeling tired but knowing he still will not be able to sleep. He will need to be rendered completely exhausted with bone-deep fatigue before he can succumb to restless sleep. By his own estimate, he has maybe another hour to go.
Behind him, Ren is a hovering presence, brooding and unreadable and Hux has neither the energy nor patience to attempt to deal with whatever mood he may currently be stewing in.
He raises the blaster again and the holograms reload. Two humans, a twi’lek and a wookiee. Behind him, Ren straightens his appalling posture. He must be getting bored. Hux ignores him and fires, one shot for the humans and twi’lek each. Three for the wookiee.
Before the last plasma bolt can find its way into the hologram of the wookiee, Hux senses more so than feels Ren react. The bolt is frozen in midair and he turns on his heel to face Ren with exasperation.
Ren is doing little more than standing there. His arm isn't even outstretched to freeze the bolt in place. He lifts a hand to only wave it lazily and the bolt bounces into the hologram net behind the targets and disperses.
Show off , Hux thinks and he really is too tired to be dealing with this. He hasn't slept in over sixty hours. He's gone through three shifts commanding the bridge and is beginning his third sleep cycle. And still, he cannot sleep.
Hux feels his sanity slipping as he raises the blaster again, at Ren, and steadies his aim. He feels calm and wholly coherent for the first time in nearly forty hours. He briefly entertains the thought of killing Ren with dark amusement and fires.
Expectantly, Ren catches the bolt halfway between the handful of meters separating them and flicks it away with a nonchalant wave. Hux is suddenly enraged and fires again, emptying his clip at Ren who catches all twelve bolts in a quivering line between them with an outstretched hand. His hand trembles with the strain.
Hux is almost entranced by the shimmering red plasma, held in place by seemingly nothing. Hux is almost mad enough to reach out to touch. Ren remains silent, still staring, focused on Hux beneath the mask. Hux raises his blaster again.
When Hux finally sleeps, the exhausted slumber that finally overtakes him is the most restful he's had in years.
*
His new record is seventy-six hours awake. Hux operates on autopilot during his command shift as the First Order finalizes the preparations for Starkiller. Hux works tirelessly during his shifts on the bridge, even when he feels his mind slipping.
He spends hours gazing down at the ice planet he’s chosen to become his superweapon, entranced by the swirling white atmosphere. This is the small planet, little more than a frozen moon, that will change the course of history.
He imagines the results of the super weapon he’s building, the imminent screams of masses, their cries of terror as a billion souls evaporate in flames that will ring in his head for the weeks, months, years to come. For the rest of whatever is left of his life.
He is certain this will be the final catalyst that will tumble him over the edge of sanity and he will welcome the resulting peace that comes with madness. Maybe then, Hux will finally be able to sleep. Perchance, to even dream again, something he has not been able to do since– since he was a child.
Hux pushes those thoughts away, tamps them down behind an iron wall in the far recesses of his slowly splintering mind. He concentrates on the present as an anchor.
Everything he has been working for for the past near-decade is culminating in what promises to be a glorious victory for the First Order. Supreme Leader Snoke is pleased with the progress, and within a week, everything will be ready.
At night, Hux spends countless hours in the shooting range until it’s time to begin another work cycle. He works his way through the different First Order issue blasters and moves on to long range sniper rifles and loses himself in the battle simulations he had designed for the Trooper program. When his arms are too tired and heavy to support the weapons, he works on dismantling them and puts them back together, over and over again until he is intimately familiar with how each is built.
He hasn’t been able to sleep since the last time he saw Ren.
It has been almost a week since Ren has gone on a mission for Snoke with his Knights.
That is not why Hux cannot sleep.
The Finalizer is much more peaceful without Ren skulking the halls and terrorizing the officers. He’s not worried about Ren. In fact, he should be glad to be rid of Ren’s irritating presence. Although admittedly, sparring with Ren does help him sleep.
They’ve worked up from Hux shooting at Ren to actual sparring and hand-to-hand combat, something Hux is no expert in but steadily improving upon. He's nothing if not a fast learner. He learns to use his smaller size and agility against Ren’s bulk and brute strength. He learns to strike where it counts.
They don't talk and Ren doesn't take off his mask but Hux learns to anticipate Ren’s moves. He ducks and weaves between long limbs to deliver his own jabs. He's managing to land more and more of his hits. Hux fights tirelessly, much like he does everything else, until sweat and blood crawl down his skin in pink lines that promise restful sleep.
He knows Ren refuses to spar at his full strength and that knowledge angers and bolsters Hux into rage fueled adrenaline. Does Ren think him weak?
Hux wishes desperately for Ren to use his full power, to break bones and tear sinew. He knows what Ren is capable of in his full glory. He's seen it. It would be a beautiful pain.
The sparring sessions last only up to Ren’s whim or until Ren loses patience and pins Hux to the ground with the Force, if only to halt Hux’s own self-damaging trajectory. His hatred for Ren swells each time the Force reminds him how much power Ren truly holds over him. How weak this invisible intangibility makes him feel. This ridiculous mysticism.
Hux would finally go to sleep bruised and battered, too exhausted to hear the voices and screams that usually keep him awake in the dark.
But Ren isn't back yet.
When he finally returns, it's been eighty-nine hours since Hux last slept.
Ren has failed his mission, it seems. It’s not information Hux has access to (it’s only between Ren and Snoke, Hux is curtly informed). It infuriates Hux and bolsters his own aggression until he’s aching for the fight, even as he feels the aggravation roll in waves off of Ren that promise pain and broken bones.
Ren starts slow, defensive and keeps his hold on his temper. Hux knows the hold is fraying when he easily deflects and dodges Ren's half-hearted swipes. He's so angered by Ren’s half attention, he needs Ren to lash out, wants to feel the pain of his full power.
“Come on, Ren,” Hux taunts as they circle each other, two feral animals sizing each other up in a cage. “I know you can do better than that. Or have you finally been tamed?” Hux sneers. He knows he's playing a dangerous game but he's unable to stop speaking the taunting words. “Has Snoke finally stripped you of your manhood? Is that why you need that mask? I'll wager you're nothing without something to hide behind. Or are you truly the monster they whisper about? Are you truly so hideous and despicable you must always hide behind something?”
Ren pauses for a long moment before he shrugs off his layers of ragged black robes and only his trousers and undershirt are left. Hux sees the bulk of muscles cut and honed from years of brutal training beneath the thin layers. Ren is not just magic tricks and fantastical thaumaturgy; he has brute physical strength on his side too. But Hux's masochism already knows that. Ren raises his hands to his helmet and with a soft click and hiss, his mask is lifted finally off and dropped to the side with a heavy thunk .
It’s the first time Hux sees Ren’s face. He expects a monster to emerge, twisted ugly by darkness and rage. Instead, he is struck by how young Ren looks, how unintimidating and how vulnerable he appears and Hux understands why the damnable mask is necessary.
Ren is pale with awkwardly mismatched features. A nose too big for his face, a face that's just a touch too long to be conventionally attractive. Dark hair (too long for First Order regulations) he continually runs his large hands nervously through. He holds himself like someone born into royalty and power and yet his shoulders are hunched inwards as though perpetually in defense. Ren wears his vulnerability like an ill-fitting skin. His expressive eyes all too easily betray his emotions, even as his body nearly vibrates with tightly contained power.
He's so expressively– human.
Ren reminds Hux of a boy he once thought he knew. Realistically, Hux knows that perhaps he's never really existed at all, but Ren could have been what he would've become, if he had had the chance. All the more reason for Hux to resent him.
How can this human boy not any older than Hux hold so much power? They are but two wretched children playing at a game of war, truly.
They face each other across the mat once more. Hux refuses to look anywhere but Ren’s face, taking careful note of his ticks, learning to read him even as Ren ducks his head and tries to avoid his eyes.
Hux stands relaxed in a defensive pose as Ren coils his strength into himself, like a beast about to attack. They circle each other with slow steps.
“You would stare, Ren,” Hux taunts, curling his fingers into loose fists, “when you believe I don't notice, like a coward, but when you remove that mask, you cannot even look at me. What are you so afraid of?”
Ren finally looks up. Hux sees it and understands with heart-skipping clarity, how a merciless killer can reside in the body of this ridiculous juxtaposition of a human. Ren's eyes are suddenly shuttered and flinty, merciless and grow steadily colder as his body tenses for the attack. His face drains of expression until he barely looks human at all.
He lunges and Hux almost regrets invoking him. The power flowing off of him in waves has Hux both terrified and exhilarated. He feels it like sparks of electricity circling Ren.
Ren takes his frustration out on his spar with Hux. For the first time since their nightly sessions began, Ren does not hold back. Hux feels two ribs crack beneath broad hands before Ren stops and steps away. He's heaving deep breaths with shaking shoulders and looking down at Hux with sadness in his windowpane eyes.
“Careful, General,” Ren’s voice is deep and heavy with emotion, so unlike the metallic monotonous drone from the vocoder.
Hux stays on the floor and laughs, just to feel the sharp pain in his chest and hates Ren. He will need to be healed by a med-droid before he retires to bed but he finds that he doesn't even care about the extra trouble. For once, the physical pain is sharper than the echoing pain in his head and Hux luxuriates in the feeling, welcomes it. He doesn't get up for a long time.
Hux hasn't slept in ninety-three hours. He manages to sleep for six hours after his session with Ren. It’s the longest he’s slept in over a year.
And then the headaches begin. They start as small aches behind his eyes and Hux dismisses them as side effects of insomnia. They are unimportant nuisances and do not impede on his work.
However, they seem to get worse, noticeably when he is forced to spend prolonged amounts of time in Ren’s presence. Hux thinks it may be because his tolerance for Ren’s tantrums and childish rages is dwindling and the less time spent near Ren, the better. Hux gets a short reprieve when Ren leaves to galavant the galaxy searching for a rumored map of Luke Skywalker.
Hux reverts back to not sleeping. The screams in his head are louder when he lays down to sleep. Hux starts avoiding his bed. He starts taking meds for the pain and swallows them by the handful with cups of tepid caf and his distaste for this weakness. It's a steadily growing dependence.
There are dark smudges under Hux’s eyes and his skin feels too tight, stretched thin over his rapidly emaciating frame. He pads the shoulders of his greatcoat and wears it like a cloak draped across his shoulders. He takes extra care to make sure his appearance is impeccable before he goes on duty.
The headaches do not go away despite Hux’s frequent consumption of pain-tabs and Ren’s absence. He pilfers them from the medbay and takes them at every flare of pain just so he can force himself to focus on his daily tasks. It is tantamount to his control and ironclad will that he is able to remain standing for all nine hours of his command shift.
The pills only work well enough to give him a brief respite before the pain returns but Hux pushes on, ignores the sharp stabs behind his eyes. There are preparations to be made. His project is so very close to completion.
Hux begins to lose lapses of time. There will be hours on the bridge he cannot remember, datapads he’s supposedly read and signed and cannot remember. Orders he’s given and cannot remember. It is dangerous and negligent.
It terrifies and relieves Hux in equal measure; decisions are taken out of his hands when the hours pass without his notice. For brief moments, the weight of the galaxy does not sit squarely on his shoulders.
He is only snapped out of his sporadic fugues when he feels Ren.
He can feel Ren across the galaxy flying into a rage. He can feel the exhilaration of battles won. He can feel the steady thrum of thoughts and Ren's personal interpretation of peace when he meditates. Most disturbingly, he can feel when Ren ruminates over the loss of one of his Knights and Hux is able to feel the sharp stab of grief across the span of systems.
Hux feels it keenly when Ren finally returns. The pain behind his eyes reach a near excruciating point and he nearly collapses into the console before him as he forces his body to remain upright in his rigid parade rest.
Ren is enraged , Hux somehow knows.
Ren lost the map. To a Resistance pilot and his droid, no less. Snoke’s best Knight bested by Resistance scum , Hux thinks with only a hint of hysteria and overwhelming scorn. His head throbs.
“It’s in a droid,” Ren finally tells him after he interrogates the Resistance pilot. Hux is certain his own head hurts as much as the pain Ren inflicted on the unfortunate pilot. “A BB unit.”
Hux is sorely tempted to roll his eyes but refrains himself. That certainly narrows it down. The headache builds and he can feel Ren’s annoyance and frustration soar. Instead of snark, Hux takes pity on him.
“Well then,” he intones dryly. “If it’s on Jakku, we’ll soon have it.”
“I leave that to you,” Ren tells him before striding down the hall, his robes a dramatic black swirl flowing around him. Patrolling Troopers and officers scurry out of his way as Ren stomps down the hall, his gait obnoxiously loud.
Hux hates him with a passion unlike anything he's ever felt before. This self-important brat would be so insolent. The pain in his head nearly blinds him when combined with his incandescent rage.
He takes another handful of pain-tabs.
Much later, Ren joins him at a viewport overlooking the planet beneath them. Hux does not want his company but he does not say anything to make Ren leave either.
Ren is silent next to him, a heavy presence that makes Hux feel oddly unbalanced.
“My master has tasked me with finding the map by any means necessary,” Ren says apropos of nothing. It's something Hux already knows but he will not rise to whatever bait Ren is dangling by asking why he is stating such obvious nonsense.
“I've seen visions of what will happen when Starkiller is fired, General,” Ren continues after a long beat. Ridiculous , Hux thinks, but he is surprised to feel the trepidation coming from Ren. “Not everything is to fall so perfectly in line with your plans.”
Hux really does not have the patience for Ren's mystical ramblings. He scowls. “What exactly does that mean, Ren?”
“Be prepared,” Ren replies and elaborates no further. Hux, feeling as though he would be losing at whatever competition they're always engaged in should he ask about Ren's cryptic words stays silent. He refuses to give Ren the satisfaction.
*
Hux is unsure how the week passed so quickly with him barely cognizant enough to notice. He hasn’t slept. His measure of the days passing is the quickly dwindling pile of pain-tabs he’s stolen. Time passes without his notice. He only knows reality vaguely above the agonizing pain in his head that flares whenever he feels Ren fly into a mood, even when Ren is off-planet.
Hux barely has enough coherence to question exactly how is he able to feel Ren at all, but he senses him all the same. He feels it when Ren finally captures the scavenger girl who's been running amok the galaxy with Skywalker’s map. He senses the surprise and sadness Ren feels when he attempts to enter her mind and parses the paltry information he is able to receive.
The girl is strong with the Force too. Ren feels it and Hux feels it through his feedback. The girl is familiar and Ren recognizes her but it cannot be– Ren must strengthen his will. His ties to the dark side are slipping, just from the presence of this scavenger, he is tempted by the call to the light. He will be strong; he will ignore it.
Or so he says when he stands before his master. Hux is unable to help the sneer when he enters the holo chamber and glances over to see Ren unmasked. He looks younger than ever and so vulnerable. Hux feels secondhand embarrassment for his weakness but that's fine, he can be strong enough for both of them.
Suddenly, he is looking up into the sky streaked with red as his legions of Troopers stand at attention before him. He remembers a speech, and only just barely. Another lapse in memory.
The pain in his head magnifies until it takes all of his strength to remain standing when the streaks of red light arc into the planets of the Hosnian System. His knees buckle as the planets explode, lighting up the sky in blinding red and flaming white.
Hux is transfixed by the sight, unable to bring himself to tear his eyes away. This is his life’s work, his legacy. This is his place in history. This is his doing and it will become his undoing.
He hears all of the screams of the billions in the Republic as they die and he feels their deaths, in his head and in his body. He feels as though he’s on fire too; the pain is unbearable. It spreads from his temples and down his body, to the tips of his fingers and his toes. He folds his fingers tight into his palms until he can feel his nails digging, even through the leather of his gloves. His hands are shaking despite his best attempts to hold them still.
Hux stands straighter as the pain flows white-hot through him. He feels the energy of the novas he created, eating him alive from the inside out. A scream builds in his throat, but he forces it down, clenches his teeth tight until his eyes are red with barely restrained tears and he watches.
He will not look away from this.
And then there is nothing, only silence ringing loud with the echo of dying screams.
Everything that follows seem to happen at the speed of a fast forwarding holovid. For one precious eternal moment, Hux is holding all the power of the galaxy in his hands and in the next, he’s lost everything.
It’s all gone.
The Resistance have somehow bested all of them and they’ve destroyed Starkiller. They’ve bested the First Order. They’ve bested Ren.
Hux feels it when Ren falls and he very nearly collapses with him. He forcibly pulls himself together and drags himself into Ren’s Upsilon shuttle and embarks on what is likely to be a suicide mission to find the idiot.
The planet’s death rattles echo throughout the continent Starkiller is embedded in and Hux forces himself not to think of anything, to ignore the screams that echo increasingly louder in his head. He has to fly low to see the ground and the shuttle skims the tops of trees as he passes them, bringing a majority of them down and into the crumbling cracks across the snowy surface.
Don’t look back, idiot. Don’t look back . It’s all gone. Everything he’s worked so hard for– years of planning and building and it’s all gone .
Hux knows that he will not survive this. The Supreme Leader implied as much when Hux was standing before him as the base was crumbling beneath his feet.
“The fuel cells have ruptured. The collapse of the planet has begun,” Snoke said, his voice dangerously low. His words were pointed as though he was faulting Hux in the planet’s collapse. “Leave the base at once and come to me with Kylo Ren. It is time to complete his training.”
“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux said dutifully. He turned to leave as more of the ceiling crumbled down into the room.
“And General,” Snoke said, halting Hux in his steps. His hologram was flickering. “There is a high price to pay for what you have wrought. Will you be ready to pay it when the time comes?” Snoke asked him this with a sneer twisting his scarred, ugly features. Cryptic and softly threatening as though he'd heard Hux's treasonous thoughts. Rather, as though he was certain Hux would come and Hux would beg for death. As though Hux would be so weak.
When did he become such a docile creature, no better than Ren? Perpetually bowing and scraping to his cruel master who will reward him with little more than the pain of torture and certain death.
This could be an opportunity, his the treasonous part of his mind whispers, cloying and sweet. Get away from Snoke. Take Ren and run. Convince him to your campaign. But how far can you truly run, coward ? With no power and no troops. Snoke will find you. His reach spans the galaxy and when he finds you, you will wish for something so blissful as death.
Hux knows unquestionably that he will die if he goes to Snoke. This is his price– for having held the galaxy in his hands. Perhaps it is better after all to accept his fate. The silence of oblivion would be a welcome reprieve from the screams that build into pulsing agony in his head and he can finally escape from the ghosts that haunt him in his restless sleep.
Focus.
Objective: retrieve Kylo Ren.
Focus on Ren.
The ground trembles as the planet heaves in its final throes and Hux lands the shuttle as safely as he is able when he feels Ren.
Somehow he knows for certain that Ren is near. He stumbles in his mad dash across the snow and carefully picks his way between the cracks that open beneath him as they yawn ever wider with each quake of the ground.
His mind thrums in a steadily enraging beat of, where are you where are you where are you , as he frantically searches the dark ground for any hint of black mass. Ren, the idiot .
His head feels compressed and overfull. He spots a prone figure half buried by snow several meters away and the feeling intensifies as he nears Ren. Hux resolutely ignores the pounding headache and surges onwards, buoyed by finally reaching his goal.
He wastes precious seconds to scoop up a silver cross guard a few meters away. Ren’s saber.
By the time Hux reaches Ren’s side, his headache has grown to be near-intolerable and the pressure near his temples blurs his vision. He drops to his knees next to Ren and clenches his teeth, forces himself to ignore the pain, fight through it.
Hux stares down at Ren, at the ghastly gash bisecting his face and notes the dark red puddle seeping into the snow beneath his torso. Can one lose that much blood and still live , he wonders inanely.
The usual ghoulish black mask Ren favors is nowhere to be seen and Hux is inexplicably glad for its absence. He presses fingers against Ren’s throat to check for a pulse and sighs in relief when he finds it, sluggish and barely perceptible but the idiot is still alive.
The ignored headache flares with a vengeance after he drops his hand from Ren’s cold neck and Hux gasps. He presses a fist against his head, tries to tell himself not now , now is a really bad time.
As though in response, the ground beneath them quakes ever harder and nearly throws Hux bodily onto Ren. He catches himself before he can do even more damage to the unconscious body beneath him and after briefly lamenting the ruin of his greatcoat, throws it over Ren to wrap around him. Steeling himself, Hux moves to attempt to lift Ren. The idiot is a lot heavier than he looks.
Hux curses himself for not having the foresight to bring along a medical droid, at the very least, but then again, he did not expect to find Ren in this state. Seeing the master of the Knights of Ren brought so low to such an absolute defeat is jarring.
After several attempts at lifting Ren, which Hux is almost certain is not doing the still-dripping wound in his side any favors, Hux nearly gives up. Compounded with the pain and loud clamoring in his head and swelling panic, Hux can barely see straight and contemplates leaving Ren to die on the dying planet. But Hux has an objective. Retrieve Kylo Ren.
He tries again to lift Ren and feels the prone body stir against him. A sharp stab of pain pierces through his right eye and he nearly drops Ren in his agony. He resolutely ignores it and fights for control. Ren groans and straightens a little and Hux is vaguely thankful that he no longer has to carry an unconscious (and heavy ) body all the way back to the waiting shuttle nearly half a kilometer back.
By some miracle, they make it back to Ren’s command shuttle. Hux nearly collapses as he half drags and half carries Ren on board. He leaves Ren prone on the floor of the cargo area and lets the ship’s med-droid get to work as he stumbles to the cockpit. The planet heaves again and the shuttle nearly collapses as he watches the ground open into an enormous growing crack a short distance away.
Hux takes half a second to take a deep breath and steel his nerves. He hasn’t flown a shuttle since he was a lieutenant and he needs a minute to reorient himself with the controls panel.
He enters the takeoff sequence and hastily straps himself into the pilot’s seat. His takeoff is sloppy and probably too fast. The force of it pushes Hux hard against the back of the seat. There is more turbulence than expected but there is no time to wonder if the shuttle is damaged in his haste.
Hux spares a moment to wonder if the med-droid managed to get Ren into a stable surface before he launches the shuttle into hyperspace. He watches with growing numbness as the planet beneath him cracks open and collapses into itself before the world outside the windshield blurs and becomes first, blackness, and then dashes of streaking starlight.
The briefly forgotten headache returns with a sudden vengeance, searing like a vibrosword slashing through his cranium. Hux feels as if his head is being split open. The last thing he hears before darkness pulls him unwillingly under is Ren screaming in the cargo hold.
*
You're screaming. Your throat is raw and painful and blood drips down your chin in thick red swaths. Everything hurts.
Everything is dark but you know this place. This is Snoke’s holo chamber in your fallen Starkiller. This place no longer exists.
There is a low laugh, deep and cruel. Snoke . You would know that laugh, that voice anywhere. It's the one you first heard as a child. The voice that ripped Ben from you. The voice that took everything from you and gave you a taste of everything and that’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough for the price you paid.
You’re grown now. You've held the galaxy in your hands, tasted all the power it can offer and you will not cower before this old wretch on his crumbling throne.
You will stand, dignified, even as your knees threaten to buckle and the weight of worlds rest upon your shoulders. You will face down this old monster and you will win.
You are always so brave in your dreams.
He laughs again as though he knows your thoughts.
“Come,” he booms, and it's not to you. A flash of red light, the crackling thrum of unstable plasma.
“Your final test,” Snoke intones, a hint of glee shadowing his solemnity. Sadistic old degenerate . “I have allowed this for far too long. You have grown weak. Shed this pathetic liability that is your so-called bond ,” he spits this with disgust. “Kill your general, Kylo Ren. Destroy the last pathetic remains of Ben Solo.”
Ren steps out from the shadows before you. His eyes are covered by the shadow of his hood and the saber in his hand does little to illuminate his face.
You're staring at this unfamiliar version of Ren– this is the most fear you've felt in a long time.
You're frozen in place. You cannot move even as you try, desperately. You feet are heavy and your arms leaden. Your mouth is clamped shut, you cannot even yell. You’re afraid. The swell of fear is overwhelming, choking out your other senses but you can be strong still.
You will not cower in fear. You will not beg.
And suddenly you can't breathe. Invisible hands are closing around your throat, choking off your air and you're clawing desperately at the fingers that don't exist. The edges of your vision are greying.
You're dying.
Sorrowful wide eyes reflecting the red of his saber peer down at you beneath the hood as Ren advances closer.
Ben.
A flash of red and a scream.
*
Hux startles awake and blinks up at a dark cockpit ceiling, his heart hammering. He hastily unsnaps the safety belt strapped uncomfortably tight across his torso and leans over to duck his head between his knees. He gasps heaving breaths as though his airways are choked shut and he tries desperately to calm himself. Hux struggles to breathe shallow breaths. His hands are shaking where he grips his knees as he tries to regulate his breathing. Hux runs a quick self-analysis: still whole. Still breathing (too hard. His brain is overly flooded with oxygen. Calm down ). The ever-present headache has been reduced to a dull throb in the back of his skull. Manageable.
A dream. Just a dream. The first he's had in years. But simply that– a dream. Not real.
He struggles to remember the details of the dream but they slip away quicker than he can grasp onto them until he barely remembers it at all. The only thing he remembers is that Ren was in the dream.
Ren.
He should check on Ren.
Hux takes a quick look around the cockpit and it is only then that he realizes that not only is the ship not in hyperspace; it is not moving at all. The view outside the main viewport is silent unfamiliar space and the cockpit is oppressively silent. Everything is dark and offline, lit by a faint red glow. The panel next to the manual pilot controls blink in a steady red: fuel low– 18 percent. Hux realizes with a lurch in his stomach that threatens to bring up what little food he's consumed in the past several days his own negligence at not engaging a systems check in his panic to get off of Starkiller.
He rushes over to the single working panel of controls. Life support. Good. The life support still appears to be functioning, or they would've suffocated to death long before Hux woke. He runs his fingers frantically over the control panel and they shake as he tries to pull up the navi system. It does not go online and he has to force himself to remain calm.
Steady breaths. Assess the situation. Find a solution.
Hux has no idea of their location. The last he knows, they were heading towards the Snoke’s coordinates and with a quick glance at his chrono, they’ve gone maybe eight hours in hyperspace. That leaves them in the middle between the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions. It's the farthest stretch of logic Hux can manage at the moment.
Suddenly the dark cockpit feels overwhelmingly claustrophobic and Hux wonders numbly if he is in shock. It's getting steadily harder to breathe even though he knows there is still oxygen, 47 percent left, going by the readout. More than enough, he tells himself.
More than enough for what? To last long enough to fly on impulse thrusters to the nearest planet? What planet systems are they currently near? Even if they manage to fly to a planet, then what? Surely, the First Order will know they are missing and send a search. They just need to survive until they are rescued.
Steady breaths. Assess the situation. Find a solution . Hux repeats this mantra to himself until his breathing stabilizes to some facsimile of steady. Check on Ren, he amends as soon as he remembers that Ren is injured and possibly still laying on the floor of the cargo hold.
Hux stumbles to the rear of the shuttle on unsteady legs and growing nausea in search of Ren. His stomach lurches again when he sees the state of the cargo hold.
The rear bulkhead is cracked and crushed. The inner layer of durasteel is caved in on itself like crumpled paper and oddly singed on the open edges, something Hux files away in his head to check closer at a later time. He spots the med-droid in the corner, crushed beneath a chunk of fallen bulkhead: beyond repair. The lights are out but he can make out large shapes with the faint red glow from the emergency lights.
He spots Ren in the right corner, seemingly no more scathed than his original state. Hux tells himself the unclenching of the vise in his chest is not relief– simply confirmation that if Ren was dead, he most likely would've felt it.
That is when Hux realizes the cargo hold damage was inflicted by Ren. It is likely that Ren had lost control of himself in his pain and delirium and nearly crushed the shuttle with the Force. Hux supposes he should be thankful that Ren only managed to peel down the innermost layer of the hull and left most of it intact, save the cargo hold area. Stars help him but Ren's tenuous grasp on the Force could've killed them both.
He watches as Ren struggles to sit up before walking over to help. The med-droid had removed Ren's outer robes and shirt to access the wound on his side but Hux's ruined greatcoat is still wrapped loosely around Ren's legs. It seems as though the dermal regenerator was about halfway done with regenerating Ren's skin when Ren lost control. The regenerator is nowhere to be seen but while the wound is still raw and open, but it is not as large as it was to have created the puddle of blood left in the snow on Starkiller. The center is a mass of congealed blood that, at the very least is no longer actively bleeding. The edges of the wound are already scarred over, raised bumps of pink flesh. While it all looks painful, Hux estimates that it is manageable and Ren will simply have to be more disciplined about his need for theatrics and tighten his control on his volatile mood.
Which from such close proximity, Hux can feel his anxiety, confusion, and peripheral pain. Hux takes quick inventory of Ren's other wounds and feels his stomach sink ever lower when he spots the other wound in Ren's shoulder, one he hadn't even noticed when he found him in the snow.
It is nearly as wide as the wound on his side and Hux is almost certain it is just as deep, a jagged burnt gash that matches the one on Ren's face. At the very least, the shoulder wound appears cauterized– lightsaber wound then. Likely given to Ren by that Force-sensitive scavenger and once again, Hux feels secondhand humiliation for Ren. He runs inquisitive fingers over the edge of the wound and watches as Ren shudders before his wrist is halted in a tight grip.
“Don't,” Ren rasps, his voice cracked from disuse and likely raw from screaming. “I'm fine.”
It takes every ounce of self control for Hux not to roll his eyes and snap at Ren. He settles for an exasperated huff. How typical, of course Ren is full of ridiculous unfounded bravado even in the face of grave injury.
Hux looks at the wound again. Although he is no expert, even to his untrained eye it looks deep enough to have injured tendon. He wonders if Ren can even move that arm anymore, much less without excruciating agony. It is Ren's right arm, his dominant side. It is one thing to be able to swing it in adrenaline-fueled bloodlust but another thing altogether to move it once the endorphins taper off and the pain sets in.
Hux glares down at Ren who is still sprawled on the cargo hold floor. Ren returns his look with a grimace and attempts to sit up further. As expected, his right shoulder collapses as he tries to put weight on it.
“Come, Ren,” Hux says, a little harsher than intended. “Don't be childish. You're in no state of any definition of ‘fine.’”
With a sigh, Hux leans down to help Ren up. Ren scrambles to his feet on unsteady legs, teetering precariously and leans most of his weight on Hux. Ren pulls the greatcoat over his shoulders with a wince. Hux does not even have the heart to make snide remarks at him as he supports him to the cockpit and tips him not ungently into the copilot’s seat.
Hux sits heavily in the opposite seat and tries very hard to think. He does not know their current location and it is dangerous to attempt to navigate the ship with such low fuel levels. However, it is also dangerous to float around in empty space, waiting for rescue while the life support dwindles down their remaining fuel. In the worst case scenario, they would be intercepted by the enemy before the First Order can reach them. They have no weapons, save for the unstable lightsaber Ren cannot currently use and the First Order issue blaster strapped to his own thigh that is almost entirely decorative. He checks the charges left in the blaster: five, and the battery pack: 23 percent. He moves around the cockpit and back into the cargo hold to check for anything that can be of use and returns with a bundle of field rations what would last them approximately one solar month and an extra blaster clip.
Hux looks warily at the console again; 42 percent oxygen level. When a vague sort of panic creeps in, he tamps it down and ignores it in favor of logic and analytics. Even at 42 percent oxygen, it should be enough for approximately nine days, while they sit waiting for their rescue. Hux grits his teeth. It aggravates him to be forced to remain stagnant to wait upon others. Ideally, they would refuel the ship. They need some sort of plan, a form of communication with the Order. He needs to calculate how much fuel it would take to get to the nearest planetary system.
Hux looks over again at Ren to reevaluate his state and passes over a couple of pain-tabs, some of the last of his precious stash, even as his own headache slices across his skull. He ignores it and glares Ren down until he swallows the pills.
Neither of them speak, the silence stretching. Hux detests small talk and refuses to cave to the pressure of making conversation. He is just as content looking off into the void outside the viewport and he's almost lost in thought again when–
“You realize that if the Order finds us, it will not be to rescue us to safety, General,” Ren says so softly Hux almost doesn't hear him.
“Yes, I'm aware,” Hux replies and doesn't tell Ren that he would welcome whatever punishment Snoke hinted towards. This is to be his reward for Starkiller: oblivion and peace. The screams in his head will finally be silenced. It would not be so bad and Ren need not worry, “I am likely to be made into an example in a public execution. Something extravagant, I would hope,” he pauses with a humorless laugh. “Propaganda to prevent future failures of the ilk. It is what I would've done, too. I highly doubt your master would forsake you though, Ren. Your punishment would not be so nearly severe as mine. After all, you are… indispensable .”
“Yes,” Ren says, voice soft. “I would be your executioner.” He says it as though that would be punishment worse than death.
Hux laughs, the sound tinged with hysteria. “Of course, Ren, I would expect nothing less,” he says cruelly. Something like sadness flickers across Ren's otherwise blank expression and Hux sneers. “Would you not have taken great pleasure in my execution, Ren? You've slaughtered many, your hands just as red as mine. Wouldn't it feel so good to further stain your hands, this time with my blood?” By the end, Hux's voice has risen to nearly shrill hysteria. Hux feels exhausted and weakened, the headache a building thrum in his temple that pulses white-hot pain.
Ren does not say anything for a long time. When he finally speaks, it takes Hux a moment to understand him. It sounds as though it is physically difficult for Ren to speak the words. “My father would take me with him on deep space trips when I was a young child.”
The change in subject is so abrupt and irrelevant, Hux is unable to hold back his loud snort of derision. “I cannot imagine you as a child,” he does not say how Ren still often acts like one. He cannot imagine how his tantrums may have been then. “I had assumed you were born this big and beastly.”
It's the first time Hux hears Ren laugh. It sounds rusted and grating, something Ren does not seem to do often, something he may have forgotten how to do, and Hux understands that innately. They are not jovial men, it is not something either of their positions afford. “Not always so big and beastly,” Ren replies and turns his head to look at Hux. There's a hint of something else in his eyes that Hux cannot read, something Ren is guarding close. “I was a child once too but those were my fondest memories of childhood. I don't have very many of those.”
Hux is unsure as to why exactly Ren is choosing to tell him these things now. He supposes it's fairly harmless and Ren seems to have quite a bit on his mind at the moment. “Children are often cruel,” he divulges. “Childhood is not an easy thing to survive.”
Ren gives him a long look. “Yes, childhood is much more survivable with a companion,” he says softly and Hux is suddenly uncomfortable. He does not want to be reminded of Ben, not now.
“Where is your father now, Ren?” he asks instead and he immediately regrets the question when his headache nearly overwhelms him with a wave of sadnessangerregretsorrowgriefhatred . He gasps at the onslaught and feels it acutely when Ren pulls his emotions back into a tighter grip, leaving him feeling empty.
“My father is dead,” Ren says and he looks as though he no longer wants to speak of the subject. He burrows himself in Hux's greatcoat and appears much smaller than his usual hulking frame. “I killed him,” he continues, inflectionless, “today.”
Hux stares. That must mean it had happened not long after Starkiller was fired but he didn't feel Ren at that time. Surely, he would've felt something if the emotions Ren is struggling to contain now are any estimate of the scope of what Ren must be feeling. “You killed your father,” he repeats and almost regrets it when he sees Ren wince. When did the sadistic pleasure of gouding Ren become empathy for his sorrow?
“My master was questioning my loyalty to the dark side. I thought killing my father would strengthen my resolve. I thought it would make me stronger. Instead, I am filled with regret. Killing my father opened my eyes to many things. I will not make the same mistake again, to be so easily manipulated.”
Unbidden, Hux sees a flash of what must've been a young Ren with his father on their freighter, a decrepit rickety thing. Old and well loved. Ren must've been four years old at most, dark haired and colt limbed and he looks so much like Hux's Ben. He's sitting on his father’s lap, pretending to steer the ship. His father is laughing and delighted, telling him how proud he is, he'll be a great smuggler when he grows up, just like his old man. The flash of memory leaves Hux feeling cold and sad as though Ren's sorrow was contagious.
Hux laughs darkly and turns away in his seat. He should be feeling disdain for Ren's weakness. Instead, he is also weak enough to feel this bastardized mix of empathy and echoing grief. He's made his own sacrifices too for the dark. It's the price of power and they're not things he can ever take back.