Archive of Our Own ^beta

Above him, he can't see past the pale blue fog, but he can sense Rey up there and... the trooper, Finn, they're up there, together. He considers getting up there somehow, Force jumping, perhaps, but... he knows they have this, he knows they can take Palpatine, and he's hurting. So much of his power is gone he'd be no use anyway. He can feel the the dyad waning now that his power has been aspped and Rey is making a new bond, a stronger one, one she's chosen herself. His job is done.

Instead of pursuing a fight that is no longer his, he uses the rough cave wall for support and gets to his feet. His hands scrape and sting as he moves, stumbling towards what feels like an opening. He can sense it faintly, his powers now no more than an internal compass, really, but it's a way out, an escape. Finally, an escape.

The path is long and winding, he has to squeeze between craggy walls and feels the rock cut into his sin and rip his clothes. But he doesn't stop, he slows but never stops. Lightning crackles in the fog somewhere above him, filling the pit with brief bursts of white light, the whole cavern rumbles and shakes with it as if Starkiller were collapsing beneath him again. But he keeps going. If he stops, if he lies down, even just for a moment, he dies. And... somehow, that's not an option. There's something waiting for him, somewhere. Someone. The Force is telling him that much and he's inclined to believe it, even just to save himself.

Finally, the ravine opens up to open space just under the edge of the Sith Temple. Walking without the support of the walls is even slower and harder going, he wheezes and chokes, clutching his ribs and drags his right leg behind him, the ankle is definitely sprained at best, shattered at worst. He can see where the TIE is, besides the X-Wing that he knows is Luke's and now the Falcon alongside it, too. From beneath the edge of the awning, he can see the firefight above, thousands of ships swarming and firing until the blaster fire has taken over the lightning storm that seems to make up the majority of Exegol's atmosphere. 

He grits his teeth as he leaves the 'safety' of the Temple's cover and starts towards his ship. The TIE seems further away than he left it, each step seeming to be slower and more painful than the last. Almost like a dream, the further he walks, the further away the TIE seems to get, but he gets there eventually. It doesn't feel feel real, almost, climbing in and powering up the ship. The star destroyers are starting to full from the sky, he's sure he can see movement under the Temple and flashes of blue light

But none of it matters as he settles in and takes off. With the sky falling down, no one notices one small ship taking off instead of falling to the planet below.

No one notices Ben Solo.

///

Six years and an infinite number of names later, Ren finds himself in the Inner Rim in a... bar, of sorts. Part bistro, part bar, part game room, but they have decent food and a news network running. He likes to keep up to date, just to see the galaxy pass by.the galaxy, life itself correcting what he had done and trying to heal the wounds he'd left behind.

The place is deliberately rustic, the lines to clean for the mismatched tables and chairs to actually be as old as they're meant to look. The lights overhead are all bare bulb, the walls displaying flimsi holos of famous patrons and staff, old certificates, and an assortment of other things that make the place... oddly warm. Commercial, of course, but quaint enough that Ren can blend in.

His hair is longer than ever now, resting around his waist even in a ponytail, and nobody recognises his face with the braid hanging around it and how he's cultivated his appearance to be set apart from the few holos he'd had taken as Supreme Leader. He doesn't even look like the Ben who had come before, either. He's someone else now, both inside and out. His powers had never returned fully, either, but he has just enough to pull things towards him, sense people and emotions, and make people completely disinterested in him. It's all he needs, he no longer needed to bring down ships or move mountains. Once, he'd have raged and screamed at having this taken from him but now... now he accepts it for what it is; the will of the Force, the turning of the galaxy, life moving on.

On the holo by the bar, Rey is smiling as she talks to some reporter. She'd taken the Skywalker name and married that trooper, she was talking about the knew Jedi school they were cultivating. So the trooper had been a sensitive... he should've realised, especially on Jakku. But that was lifetimes ago. Rey seemed happy with her name family, honouring Luke and Leia's legacy. He is never mentioned other than as being Supreme Leader, and somehow that's better. Let the galaxy forget Ben Solo, let them hate Kylo Ren, and let Rey build what he'd almost destroyed forever. They were, technically, cousins after all. Almost ironic that he'd been the bad seed and against all odds she was the hope the galaxy had always needed.

The holocamera pans to Finn smiling at her as he takes her hand. He knows they'll do better than he ever could have done. He was never meant for that life, but they'd make it their own.

"Whiskey, neat." The voice breaks him from his musings. His head snaps over to look towards the bar; he knows that lilt. It's... musical almost, tinged with some tonal elements he could never put into words. Hux had had that lilt when he'd gotten so angry he couldn't suppress it anymore, even after a lifetime of conditioning. Native to Arkanis, the one thing Hux had had left of his homeworld. A secret only Kylo had pulled from him from the cracked edges of his facade.

He cranes his neck, out of pure curiosity, trying to catch a glimpse of the Arkanisian. Had Hux even survived? After the war, he'd been listed amongst so many others as having died on the Sith Fleet but... this was Hux, a damn slippery thing, he always had been. Somehow, Ren wouldn't even be surprised if Hux had survived and made himself the god of some backwater world.

Between the crowd, there's a flash of red hair by the bar, taller than most other patrons, slim build. Were all Arkanisians like that? Now he really was curious.

He leaves the paper wrapping of his food at his table and starts making his way towards the bare, threading easily through the people milling around. He has enough Force to influence people slightly, just enough that they barely notice him and he can get to the redhead without hassle, despite probably cutting the queue to order.

It's like seeing a ghost when he gets a decent look at his face as the man glances around, waiting for his drink. His hair is shaved on the sides, the top longer and combed back, heavy stubble lines his strong jaw, a new scar a faded dark pink on his cheek, but the hair is still like the depths of Starkiller, the eyes still clear and sharp, the posture too rigid to be civilian.

His breath leaves him like he's been kicked in the chest.

He'd survived. Hux had survived.

He feels... giddy, almost. Sure, they'd never gotten along but... That was then, this was now. Same people in a different place in a different time. Maybe this time around...

Ren gets close, finding a dry and less-sticky part of the bar and leaning on it, finally he lets the Force drop around him so Hux can finally acknowledge him.

Hux jerks away at first, shocked at someone's sudden presence so close to him that he hadn't noticed. He looks down at where Ren is and pales, as if he's seen a ghost. In some ways, perhaps they both are.

Ren blinks, smiles. "I never expected to see you here."

"I could say the same." And there is the accent again, somehow softening Hux more than his changed appearance ever could.

Ren holds out his hand to shake. "Ren,"

Hux looks between his face and his hand suspiciously before taking it in a strong grip. No gloves, Hux's hands are cooler than his own.

"Taidan,"

Ren lifts an eyebrow and Hux continues. "What my mother wanted to name me."

He nods, he could respect that.

They lapse into silence, Ren resists the urge to shift from how awkward it.

"So... how've-"

"Ask me how I've been and I'm murdering you in the bathroom." Hu-Taidan says, completely deadpan.

This makes Ren crack, laughing as the bartender finally sets Taidan's drink in front of him. It was still Hux, really, but... free. Same as he had been Kylo but was in a different place now. Same person, different time. The shell was different but the core remained, like a neutron star... dormant but never forgetting what had been, what could be again.

He finally calms, fiddling with one of the braids besides his face. "You look well, can I say that? Your hair doesn't look like you haven't washed it in three weeks anymore."

Taidan scoffs. "Oh, you're one to talk. Your hair was always sweaty because of that damn helmet, you stank out the whole ship!"

"You used your nose for smelling? It was always wrinkled in disgust, I thought it had stopped working,"

"When you were on the bridge, I often wished it had." he counters, looking at Ren. His mouth is a straight line but his eyes are... warm. Ren thinks he likes it.

He can't help but smile, the back and forth so familiar and he'd missed it. Even after Starkiller, things had been so different, they hadn't really bickered like this. That year changed them both so much, chewing them up and spitting them back out as naught but lost men with a trail of ashes behind them. Maybe now it wouldn't end with fire and falling skies.

"The food is good, if you've got the time. We could catch up."

Taidan looks him up and down and then around the bar. "You know what, I like the sound of that."