Archive of Our Own

Hux didn’t know how long he’d spent staring at the same four, blank walls. Weeks, definitely. Months, probably. Years? He doubted it had been that long, but it was impossible to judge the passing of time when your world was one, small, windowless room that was permanently illuminated by the same dull, yellow light. Maybe he could have measured time by the bland meals that were pushed through a thin slot at the bottom of his cell door, but he didn’t trust that he was being fed regularly enough for that to be an accurate measure.  

His hair had grown. As had his beard. The amount of hair growth on his chin lent itself more to months rather than years, but as he hadn’t seen his reflection since he’d been thrown—literally—into the cell, he couldn’t be more accurate than an unknown number of months.

He supposed that it didn’t matter. He would be here until he drew his last breath, just lingering and wasting away in a New Republic prison cell as memories of the fearsome general that destroyed the Hosnian system and nearly ruled the galaxy slowly faded and became shadows.  

His trial had been a farce. He had always suspected it would be, but he had clung to the faint hope that the New Republic would use the trial as a statement of the fair and balanced galaxy they so wanted to build. But, Hux had underestimated the residual anger that Starkiller Base had left behind and the terror the First Order had created in their year of rule.

When the sentence of life imprisonment had been handed down instead of death, claiming that it was a show of mercy when really it was a propaganda move to further promote the New Republic as the heroes, Hux had been just as angry as everybody else. He didn’t want to spend decades fading away into nothingness until death took him, and that was the true cruel beauty of the sentence. The Republic could take the moral high ground while also condemning Hux to the worst fate possible.  

Life imprisonment in a basic room, with nothing to entertain or distract, and no human contact gave Hux time to think. There was nothing to do but think. He had dissected the First Order’s entire existence, pinning down every mistake they had made and correcting them in his mind. He had paid special attention to the last few days that had seen it truly all fall apart, but there was no turning back the clock. 

If Hux closed his eyes, he could still see the exact moment that bastard Pryde had shot him without a second thought. It wasn’t supposed to end that way, with him bleeding and left for dead on the floor of a star destroyer that was supposed to be his. It should have been Kylo Ren that had discovered Hux was the spy, but with one pull of the trigger, Pryde had stolen any chance Hux had of seeing the impact of his betrayal play out on Ren’s expressive face.

Had Ren ever found out that Hux was the spy? He didn’t know.

Hux didn’t know what had happened to Ren after the First Order fell as his next few days were spent in a haze of bacta aboard a New Republic ship. Ren’s name was conspicuously absent from Hux’s trial as if Ren’s involvement with the First Order had been scrubbed from the records until only Hux’s crimes remained. Hux heard rumors that Ren had betrayed the First Order himself, killed his knights, and stood alongside the scavenger girl before dying in battle, but that was nothing but whispers from guards who thought he couldn’t hear them trade gossip. 

Hux had to admit that there was a certain irony in them both betraying the First Order and being killed—or nearly killed, in Hux’s case—for their actions.

Hux found it hard to believe that Ren was dead. He felt it more likely that Ren had betrayed the First Order and had been welcomed back by the rebels his mother had led. The possibility that Ren was being sheltered by the Republic annoyed Hux, but not as much as Ren’s possible betrayal of the First Order did.

But the betrayal that kept Hux awake at night was a far more personal one. Before becoming Supreme Leader, before the debacle on Crait, before the scavenger and the obsession with finding Luke Skywalker, Kylo Ren had been his. 

At first, they had simply existed in the same space—Ren had been assigned to Hux’s ship to act as his co-commander and they tried to avoid each other as much as possible. Eventually, their missions began to overlap and working together became a necessity.

Necessity had given way to tenuous mutual respect, then to camaraderie and then, perhaps inevitably, to something more personal. Even now Hux could remember how that first time felt, how Ren’s hands fit so neatly around his waist, the smell of space that clung to Ren’s hair and the words Ren had whispered in his ear as he had driven Hux into the mattress beneath them. The times after that were numerous and impossible to recall individually, but they were no less special.

The Ren had become Supreme Leader and cast Hux aside. It was that betrayal that hurt the most.

Many of Hux’s memories had begun to fade through time and distance. The memories of Kylo Ren, however, were still as vivid as ever. He was the full-color holo projection amidst a library of flickering and distorted ones, and Hux wished he could erase Ren from his mind as easily as he had erased every incriminating file from his holopad.

Hux didn’t know where his cell was. He presumed he was in the Outer Rim somewhere as that was the easiest place to make General Hux disappear, but he could just have easily been on Coruscant for all he knew. Things never changed. Time passed by, slowly, and Hux felt his mind slipping further and further away from the sharp and honed weapon it had once been. He was giving up, he knew. Resigned to his fate of wasting away until he died.  He only hoped it would be soon.

**

Hux awoke from his usual restless sleep with a start. It was impossible to sleep soundly in this cell, with the concrete pallet that passed for a bed and the always switched on dull light, but it wasn’t the pain in his back or the light in his eyes that had awoken him.  Not this time.

Something was happening. He could hear it. The usually quiet corridors were ablaze with sounds that he couldn’t identify.

Whatever was happening outside of his cell was getting closer. He sat up—his back protesting at the sudden movement—and waited for the oncoming storm to reach him. What else could he do? He couldn’t escape and there was nothing in the cell that even someone as intelligent and resourceful as Hux could fashion into a weapon.  

He wondered if the end was finally near. Maybe a group of citizens from one of the planets the First Order had enslaved had found out where Hux was imprisoned and were storming the building, hoping to find the general that ruined their lives so that they could extract their punishment. Or, maybe the New Republic had changed their mind and were finally going to execute him.

He hoped it was that last one. He wanted his death to mean something, instead of being at the rabid hands of revenge.

There was a crash against his cell door. Hux stood with his feet hip-width apart, his shoulders back, chest out, hands clasped behind his back and head proudly held high. It had been a long time since he’d stood at attention, but it still felt as natural as breathing. Whatever was coming for him through that cell door, he would meet it with pride and strength. 

He would meet it as the general he still was.

The door opened and the bright lights of the hallway outside flooded Hux’s dully lit cell, momentarily blinding him before being partially blocked by the figure that now stood in the doorway. When his eyes adjusted to the light and he could see again, he wondered if he’d died in his sleep and this was whatever passed for the after-life. That was the only explanation. Either that or he’d finally lost his mind because he knew with full certainty that it couldn’t be Kylo Ren that was now standing in his cell.

After all, he was dead, wasn’t he?

It looked like Ren though. He had that same hair that Hux had so loved to run his fingers through, that same crooked mouth he’d so loved to kiss and those same sad brown eyes that had haunted Hux every time he’d tried to sleep since Ren’s betrayal. Hux couldn’t see the scar that bisected Ren’s face, but that was surely just a trick of the light.

“We need to leave,” the figure said.

It sounded like Ren, too. Not the angry and emotional Ren that had destroyed so many people, and not the quiet and calm Ren that only Hux had known, but a Ren that was in the middle of those two extremes. 

Hux didn’t move.

“Now, Hux.”

It was hearing his name that finally snapped Hux out of the daze he was in. “Why are you here?”

Ren looked over his shoulder. He was agitated, but not in a way Hux had seen before.  “I’m rescuing you. Come on, we need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Does it matter?”

Hux relaxed his stance and folded his arms over his chest.  “You break into my cell after—  I don’t even know how long, and then expect me to follow you? After the way you disrespected and belittled me?”

“Hux, we don’t have time to argue—”

Then suddenly, Hux understood. “So this is how they decided to do it. I suppose it’s rather poetic.”

Ren looked over his shoulder again before turning back to Hux with a confused look on his face. Ren always had had the most expressive of faces—Hux had never needed the Force to read his mind. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re here to execute me, aren’t you? Just do it quickly and cleanly, Ren. I don’t want this to take any longer than necessary.”

Ren stared at him with wide eyes and his mouth hanging down. “What? No! I’m here to rescue you and get you out of here. Only you would argue through your own rescue. I’ll explain everything when we’re on the ship but for now, can you just trust me?”

Hux had trusted him once and it had resulted in the First Order being destroyed, life imprisonment, and his dreams being constantly haunted by memories he couldn’t forget.

When Hux didn’t answer swiftly enough to satisfy Ren, he simply grabbed Hux by the wrist and dragged him out of the cell. Hux had never been a physical match for Ren before, and several months of limited food and no exercise had left him weaker than ever, so he had no choice but to follow. Ren’s grip was tight but not crushing, and Hux noticed for the first time that Ren’s hands and forearms were bare. 

He wasn’t even wearing black.

Any further thoughts Hux had about Ren’s appearance were driven from his mind by the world outside of his cell. He’d never seen the outside before—he’d been sedated when they’d thrown him inside—and he took in every detail he could see. The hallway itself was surprisingly clean and empty, and there were no signs of the guards that had watched over him and periodically brought him bland and tasteless food. 

“Where are all of the guards?”

“They all had to attend an emergency on the other side of the facility,” Ren replied as he dragged Hux down the hall.

“Surely they should have left someone—“ Hux paused. “You used the Force to send them away, didn’t you?”

“I simply suggested that they were all needed somewhere else.”

“Why didn’t you kill them? Do you not kill people anymore?” Hux asked, a sliver of sarcasm sneaking into his voice. “Shame. It was the only thing you were ever good at.”

Ren didn’t reply.

They turned a corner and Hux was surprised to see a pile of black rags heaped next to one of the cell doors. Hux’s eyes—still not entirely used to the bright lights—strained to rearrange the mass into something recognizable, and he almost tripped over it before seeing the shape for what it was.

It was a guard. Dressed in a uniform that Hux instantly recognized as belonging to the New Republic, and with a hole in his chest that could only have been made by a lightsaber.

“Some people don’t listen to my suggestions,” Ren said in a flat, detached tone. “Luckily, I’ve been told I’m good at killing people.”

They turned another corner and Hux was hit by something so pure that he feared he would shatter into a million pieces. It was a breeze. A natural, fresh flow of air that could only come from outside. He closed his eyes while it stroked his face and ruffled his hair, and he’d never felt anything so alive and wonderful. 

The breeze was coming through a hole in a wall and it was clear that this was Ren’s way of entry into the building as it bore the telltale marks of a lightsaber. Hux hadn’t expected Ren to use whatever passed for a front door, but he hadn’t expected something as blunt as breaking through a wall with a lightsaber, either.  

Ren pushed him through the hole, and Hux felt grass beneath his feet for the first time in months. 

Hux had never really liked being planetside. But now, standing outside that prison building with a strong breeze ruffling his too-long hair and cold rain hitting his skin, he'd never been happier to be at the mercy of nature. He held his hand out and watched as the rain started to accumulate in the middle of his palm. It reminded him of his early years on Arkanis. It rained there almost every day, but the young Armitage had never once stopped and simply enjoyed the feel of rain against his skin. The now-adult Armitage wondered what other simple pleasures that boy had missed out on.

Although there was still urgency in Ren’s voice when he spoke, his tone was softer than it had been, as if he realized the importance of this moment for Hux and didn’t want to interrupt. “My ship is this way.”

There was a thicket of tall trees with red trunks and even redder leaves beside the prison and Ren headed into it. He didn’t drag Hux along by the wrist this time, nor did he wait to ensure Hux was following. He knew that Hux would—what else could he do if he wished to escape?

But was that true? Had he really escaped? He was outside, breathing in the fresh air and with no walls in sight, but he was following Kylo Ren with no idea of where he was going or what was happening. Had he just exchanged his cell for another one, this one of Ren’s making?

Hux didn’t know. But he did know that he’d rather take his chances with Ren than allow himself to turn into a shadow as he wasted away in that small, locked room. At least out here he had a chance—no matter how slim it may be. 

As they continued walking through the trees with only the shrill cries of some unknown species coming from the branches, Hux took in the sight of the man leading the way. He was both the same Kylo Ren that Hux had known intimately, while also being someone completely different. He wore thick pants in a dark shade of blue that sat low on his hips and clung in all the right places, a pair of knee-high brown leather boots, and a cream-colored shirt that hung loose even on Ren’s broad frame. Hux couldn’t see the lightsaber Ren had used to break into the prison and presumed it was inside the pouch that hung from his belt. He’d never seen Ren not have his lightsaber in easy reach—just one more way that this man that looked so familiar, was now just a stranger.

They finally reached a clearing and it was here that Ren’s shuttle was waiting. It was ugly and old; a disjointed mess of parts that seemed to have been collected from other shuttles and cobbled together to make this one. Hux had become accustomed to the sleek and stylish ships of the First Order and seeing the wreck before him was just another reminder that the First Order was no more.

The biggest reminder that the First Order had fallen was now talking to him. “It doesn’t look like much, but it has it where it counts.”

Hux still felt like he was in a dream. Was there really a shuttle standing before him, ready to take him away from whatever planet he was on? He had been convinced that he would die here, but yet again Kylo Ren had ruined his plans.

He tried to kick his brain back into action but the lack of exercise and an adequate diet had left him weak in both body and mind. “Where are you taking me? Why are you doing this?”

Ren pressed a couple of buttons on the side of the shuttle and the landing ramp descended. He was halfway up the ramp before he turned back and answered.  “I will explain everything to you, but not now. We need to get off this planet as soon as possible. The guards will soon realize that you’ve escaped and I’m hoping we can get away before that happens.”

“And if I refuse to leave?”

Ren sighed. It was a sigh of exhaustion, of exasperation, and of a desire for everything to just be over. “I don’t want to make you leave, but if I have to, I will. Everything will be easier for both of us if you trust me and board of your own free will.”

“Trust you? After the way you discarded me and ruined everything we had worked for? You didn’t physically put me in that cell, but you may as well have done.”

“You have two choices, Hux. If you stay here, the prison guards will find you, and if you are lucky, they will kill you. If you’re not lucky, they’ll beat you, throw you back into that cell and let time kill you for them. Your other choice is to board this shuttle as it’s your only way off this planet. No—your only way off this planet is with me.”

The first lesson the young Armitage had ever learned was how to survive. The second was to judge the odds and make the best decision to ensure that survival. He didn’t know what chance—if any—he had of surviving alone on the planet, but he knew he had a chance of surviving with Ren. It was with those lessons in mind that he pushed past Ren and boarded the ship.

**

The landing ramp led to a compact crew area. The shuttle was small—it would be a tight fit for even just four people to sit around the table in the middle of the room—and the interior had seen better days. Next to the table was a small kitchenette that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years and there were two closed doors. Hux presumed these led to the refresher and whatever passed for sleeping quarters. There was a ladder fixed to the wall that led down to the engine area, and one open door that led to the cockpit.

As old and decrepit looking as the rest of the shuttle was, the cockpit was its exact opposite. Nothing looked damaged or out of place here. The various buttons and levers that made up the flight and weapon controls of the ship undoubtedly came from different sources, but it had all been put together by an expert hand. Hux even recognized some of the parts as coming from a First Order command shuttle. Had Ren even cannibalized one of those?

Ren was already in the cockpit and didn’t acknowledge Hux’s presence although he undoubtedly knew Hux was there. Hux remained standing behind the pilot’s seat, not quite sure what to do with himself. Eventually, Hux’s hovering irritated Ren enough to make him speak. “Sit down, Hux, you’re making me nervous. You can sit here,” he said, motioning to the co-pilot’s seat, “or in the back. Just do something.”

It had been a long time since Hux had been given a choice in anything. There were no choices to make in prison, there had been no choices during his trial and none during his detention in the time leading to his trial. The last time he’d been able to make a choice, had been the day he’d chosen to reveal himself as a spy to the Resistance members and allow them to escape. It was because of Ren that he had become a spy at all, and that his first choice since then was being handed to him by Kylo Ren was an irony not lost on Hux.

Hux wanted to talk to Ren. He wanted to thrash out everything that happened during Ren’s tenure as Supreme Leader and everything that had happened since. He wanted to rant and rave—and possibly punch Ren in his face—for abandoning everything that they had worked for. He wanted, and deserved, answers.  

But, being broken out of his imprisonment, tasting the fresh air, and being on a shuttle that was ready to carry him away from this blasted planet was already threatening to overwhelm him. He didn’t think he had the energy to face Ren’s answers right now. It was a sure sign of how his imprisonment had affected him if he was choosing to opt-out of an argument with Ren—he had lived for those, back in better days.

“If you don’t need any help flying this—thing,” Hux said, unable to keep the slight sneer out of his voice, “then I will leave you to it.”

“There is a refresher and sleeping quarters out there if you feel you need them,” Ren said softly, confirming Hux’s previous thoughts about the doors. “I can handle everything out here.”

Ren always had been the best pilot that Hux had ever met.

Hux nodded and watched as Ren’s practiced fingers flew over the navi-computer and entered their destination. “It’ll take about six hours to get where we’re going,” Ren explained, “we’ll have plenty of time to talk on the way.”

“You still haven't told me where we're going.” 

“I'm more worried about getting there at the moment,” Ren replied. “I’ll feel a lot happier when we are out of range of the planet’s defenses. All you need to know right now is that we're going someplace safe.”

Hux was tired. He was tired of having his life in other people’s hands, of being kept ignorant of what was happening, and of having to mentally fight his way through each day. More than anything though, he was tired of no longer feeling like himself. The old Hux wouldn’t have accepted Ren’s vague answers, but the Hux he was now felt like he had no choice but to accept them.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if Ren was taking him someplace safe, or to someone with revenge on their minds. Hux had no resources, no plans, and no choice but to let the future unfold as it would.

Hux was starting to worry that his imprisonment had broken him.

“I need to sleep,” he said. He knew that sleep wouldn’t improve his situation, but he hoped it would make his mind a little sharper, like it had used to be. “If you do need a gunner, wake me up.”

Ren nodded but said nothing. Hux took one last look at his profile, with its large nose, plush lips and smooth skin where his facial scar should have been, and then walked away. He had dreamed of that face so many times, but his dreams had never been able to replicate the shiver Hux still felt when he saw it. The missing scar puzzled him, but that was a question for when his mind was more alert.

The sleeping quarters were just as basic as the rest of the ship, but the bed was large enough for Hux to stretch out and more comfortable than he could remember any bed ever being. Somehow, despite Ren’s betrayal and how it had haunted him ever since it had happened, knowing that Ren was just a few feet away quickly lulled Hux into a sleep so deep and secure that he didn’t notice when the shuttle took off or jumped to hyperspace. All that he noticed as he drifted away was that the sheets smelled the same as they had in Ren’s quarters on the Finalizer.

**

Hux didn’t wake up until after the shuttle had landed. Ren was nowhere to be seen when he exited the sleeping quarters. The door to the cockpit was closed, but the landing ramp was down. He briefly entertained the idea of trying the cockpit door, stealing the ship, and flying away from wherever Ren had brought him, but Hux had never been the best pilot. He was competent enough and could fly most standard ships, but his brief time in the cockpit when he’d first entered the ship had shown that this was anything but a standard ship. Ren had made some serious modifications to it and Hux knew that he wouldn’t have the time to figure them out.

Plus, Ren had probably locked the door and prohibited it from flying for anyone but him, anyway.

Hux knew that his only options were to leave the ship or stay onboard like a coward until Ren came to find him. Hux had run away from speaking to Ren earlier, and now that he’d had some sleep and felt a little more like himself, he refused to run away again. He was ready to welcome whatever plans or ulterior motives Ren had for him.

As Hux walked down the ramp, he was hit by a wall of humidity that he wasn’t used to. The prison had been cool and the air on starships was always crisp, so he could immediately feel the sweat accumulating under the color of the unflattering gray jumpsuit the prison had made him wear. In years gone by, he would have been disgusted by the feel of sweat running down his back, but it had been so long since he’d felt properly clean that it barely registered. The shower in his cell had run on water, but the water was dirty and barely a trickle. Although, that had hardly mattered when there was nobody there to see him but himself.

The planet itself was lush and green—a rainforest, Hux thought. The sun was largely blocked by the canopy of vegetation that stretched overhead, but it broke through in places and strongly illuminated Ren’s shuttle. Hux was impressed that Ren had managed to land the shuttle in such a place as there didn’t seem to be enough room for the ship to maneuver through.

Hux looked around but all he could see were a never-ending sea of trees and one, little, stone hut a few feet away from the shuttle. Hux stood outside the building’s front door and could hear movement inside. Somehow he knew with full certainty that it was Ren, but part of him hoped that New Republic forces were waiting inside with their blasters drawn.

Hux had no idea of where in the galaxy he was. He didn’t know if there were any settlements on this planet, or if it was just him and Ren. He still didn’t know why Ren had helped him escape from the prison or what his intentions were. With no options and a million questions in his mind, Hux pushed open the door.

**

It was cooler inside, and for that Hux was thankful. Unlike the shuttle which had looked old and lived in, the building Hux stood in didn’t look lived in at all. It had as much personality as Ren’s quarters on the Finalizer had.  

There was a cot along the far wall and a table in the middle of the room that was surrounded by three mismatched wooden chairs. There were a few personal effects on top of a wooden box that sat next to the bed; a calligraphy set, a map, and an old-fashioned compass. An open archway led to a small kitchen and it was here that Ren stood.

Ren looked tired, Hux thought. His face was drawn, his skin was pale and the bags under his eyes matched the ones Ren had sported immediately following the disaster on Crait. Ren had two mugs of hot liquid in his hands and carried them into the main room, before placing one of them on the table and sliding it over to Hux.

It was caf. Hux hadn’t drunk caf since the morning he’d been shot. It wasn't his favorite drink—that was tarine tea—but a starving man was grateful for anything he was given. He grabbed the mug and immediately put it to his lips, taking a long swig of the black liquid. He didn’t care that it burnt his mouth, just the smell of caf was enough to drive home the point that yes, he really was free.

Strange that it was the smell of caf that did that, more so than feeling the fresh air on his face.

Ren stood a few feet away with his mug of caf in hand. Hux knew he was being watched and after months of solitude having someone else there made the hairs on the back of his neck stand-up. Hux had lived his whole life surrounded by other people—a military life was never an isolated one—but now it felt alien and unnerving. Once, Ren had been a near-constant presence in his life but those days were long gone. Destroyed by Ren’s ambition and his ruthlessness.

“We can talk if you want,” Ren said, nervously shuffling on his over-sized feet, “or if you want to clean up first there’s a fresher through there.” He pointed to a part of the kitchen that Hux couldn’t see. “I can get you some new clothes.”

Hux wanted to talk. He wanted to know everything that had happened since his incarceration, what Ren had been doing, where they were, and what was going to happen with him. He had so many questions that he didn’t know where to start. 

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? After so long of not having to think about anything other than how to survive the day, his thoughts were now a jumbled mess. Before his imprisonment, his thoughts had always been in perfect order, like a battalion of Stormtroopers waiting for inspection. Now, they were like tangled pieces of string and Hux was struggling to pull any single thought loose.

“I would like to take a shower and change my clothes,” Hux stated. It would give him more time to think and he hoped that cleansing himself of the lingering stench of his prison cell would help clear his mind.

Ren nodded. He put his caf down—still untouched, Hux noticed—and opened the wooden box near his bed. He pulled out a dark pair of pants and an off-white shirt. “They’ll be a little big, but they should be okay.”

Hux took the offered items of clothing without a word and headed for the fresher.

**

The fresher was small but clean. There was a mirror hanging above a stone basin, and Hux approached this with trepidation. He’d never been a vain man. His father’s criticisms of his naturally thin frame still rang in his ears whenever he looked at his long, thin limbs or soft belly, but he’d always taken pride in his appearance. General Hux was perfectly groomed at all times—his face clean-shaven and hair impeccably styled, no matter how many hours he’d been on shift.

He steeled his resolve and looked in the mirror. He gasped when he saw the stranger staring back at him and briefly wondered if Ren was using a trick of the force to deceive his eyes. There was no trick though, he knew. Just the reflection of a man that had been left to rot and had every hour of that sentence etched into his skin. His eyes were haunted, his cheeks gaunt, his jaw covered in a thick beard and his dirty, red hair fell past his shoulders.

Hux couldn’t look away. He stared at his reflection, looking for a hint of the man he used to be but couldn’t see him. He didn’t feel like himself either. How could he while he had a scraggly beard and hair longer than Ren’s?

He managed to tear his eyes away from the mirror and glanced around the room. It was surprisingly devoid of the small bottles of hair products that Ren had always littered his fresher on the Finalizer with, but there was a cupboard next to the washbasin. Hux opened it and amongst the shampoos, conditioners and packs of bacta was a grooming kit.

It had been many years since Hux had used an actual razor to shave with—the First Order had preferred more advanced methods—but he was pleased to see that he hadn’t lost his deftness with a sharp blade. Slowly but surely the red hairs that covered his face fell into the basin. Each swipe of the blade brought him closer to himself, but shaving alone wasn’t enough.

He picked up a pair of scissors.

He’d never cut his own hair before and without the aid of a second mirror had simply guessed at how the back should be cut, but when he looked in the mirror again the stranger of before was gone. Now, the reflection belonged to a General Hux that was too-thin, too-exhausted, and too-haunted, but at least it was General Hux again.

Hux stripped off his gray prison overalls, left them lying on the floor where they’d dropped, and stepped into the shower. When he stepped back out, his entire body was flushed pink from both the heat of the water and how desperately he’d scrubbed at his skin until he could no longer feel the grime of the prison clinging to him.

Ren’s clothes were, as expected, too big for him but they were adequate. They had to be, as his only other options were to sully his clean body with his dirty prison uniform or to wander out of the fresher naked. Once, he’d had no qualms with being naked in front of Ren, but those times were long gone. He rolled up the sleeves of the shirt, pulled the belt tighter around his waist, and tried to ignore how Ren’s scent clung to the fabric, just like it had on the bedding on the shuttle.

The process of stripping away the man he’d become to reveal the man that stay lay within had helped to calm Hux’s racing mind. It wasn’t entirely back to its analytical self, but it was ordered enough that he could pull out a few pressing questions to ask Ren. 

He was General Hux again, and General Hux had never backed down from Kylo Ren.

**

Ren sat at the table, his back to the fresher, and with his half-empty mug of caf next to him. A holoprojection of a star system Hux didn’t recognize hung in the air before him and Ren appeared to be studying it intently. Was it the system they were in? Or the one Hux that held Hux’s prison? Hux didn’t know, but he was pretty certain that the system was deep into the Unknown Regions. It was too chaotic and full of odd anomalies to be anywhere else.

Ren switched off the holoprojector. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that Hux was there. “Do you want to talk now?”

Hux walked past Ren to the empty chair that faced him. He sat down and despite the lingering ache in his bones, his posture was as rigid and perfect as it had been in any First Order meeting room. “I want answers.”

Hux took a small amount of satisfaction from how Ren’s eyes widened when Hux sat down. His transformation from mistreated prisoner to a facsimile of the general Ren had once known was dramatic, and he was glad that it had affected Ren, however small. 

Of all the questions he had, Hux decided to go with the most pressing. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“I mean, nothing. I told you that I didn’t rescue you just to kill you, and I’m not going to turn you over to any of the rebel groups that want your head, either. You can stay here, or can go anywhere you want to.”

Hux blinked. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Well, it is,” Ren said, irritation slipping into his voice slightly before he reined it back in. “I didn’t go to all the effort of rescuing you just to see you die.”

“So why did you rescue me?”

Ren turned his head away from Hux and fixed his gaze on the only window in the room. The sunlight was fading now and the sky burned with a purple hue that Hux didn’t think he’d ever seen before. It was beautiful. Hux had thought he’d never see a sunset again.

Now that those sad brown eyes weren’t fixed on him, Hux took the opportunity to look at Ren properly. It was still the face that had haunted his dreams while he was in that cell, and seeing that the passage of time hadn’t taken the same toll on Ren as it had on him made Hux feel irrationally angry. If anything, Ren looked healthier. Sure, the man looked like he hadn’t slept for a week but his eyes weren’t as haunted as they had once been, his skin had a healthy shine and his scar really had disappeared.

Exactly how long had Hux been locked away for?

“You were there for nine months,” Ren said, ignoring the question Hux had spoken out loud in favor of answering the unvoiced one.

“Get out of my head,” Hux snapped. “I don’t have the energy or concentration to keep you out myself.”

“You’re too loud,” Ren grumbled. “You always have been.”

“Then try harder.”

Ren scowled but finally acquiesced with a slight nod of his head.

Hux returned to what Ren had just told him. “Nine months? It felt like longer.”

“How long had you been locked in that cell?”

Hux’s lips quirked into a smile not of happiness, but bitterness. “Nine months,” he replied.

Ren looked at him in alarm. “Did they ever let you out of that cell? For exercise or to speak to anyone?”

Hux looked at Ren in disbelief.  After all of this time and everything Ren had seen of the war between the First Order and the Resistance, how could he still be so naive to think that the New Republic would be that kind to General Starkiller?

“They threw me in that cell and left me to rot. If it wasn't for you, I would've been there until the day I died,” Hux explained. “The New Republic and its citizens never wanted justice for what we did, they wanted cold-blooded revenge.”

“I didn't know,” Ren began. “I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Hux said firmly. “The New Republic had no intention of treating me well and I probably didn't deserve it.”

“That’s refreshingly honest, Hux.”

Hux shrugged. “I had plenty of time to think while I was there.” He paused. “Where was I, anyway?”

“The prison was on the second moon of Saria, in the Outer Rim.”

“I have no idea where that is. I’ve never heard of it.”

“I think that was the point, Hux.”

“And where are we now?”

“On the outskirts of a settlement in the Unknown Regions. I don’t know the formal name of the planet, only what the planet’s inhabitants call it. We’re only a couple of systems away from where Starkiller Base was.”

“We’re not alone then?” Hux hated that a tone of unease had crept into his voice.

“The upper atmosphere of the planet stops any long-range communications from being sent or received and the inhabitants don’t have the technology to build ships. They lead simple lives, farming the land and ignoring the rest of the Galaxy. Nobody here knows anything about the First Order, or Starkiller, or us. They don’t even know of the Empire.  That’s why I’m here.”

“And how exactly did you get here, Ren?” Hux asked, looking for some answers. “How did you go from leading the galaxy to living like a primitive native on a backwater planet in the Unknown Regions? I heard that you turned your back on the First Order, killed the Knights of Ren, and then died yourself. As you were never mentioned during my trial, I assumed it was true.”

Ren slouched back into his chair and folded his arms across his chest. The material of his shirt clung to his arms, highlighting the muscles underneath. Everything else might have changed, but at least Ren’s ridiculous chest hadn’t. “You heard correctly.”

Hux blinked. Then blinked again. Ren was playing with him—mocking him. He obviously wasn’t dead as Hux had felt Ren’s warm, all-too-human, and all-too-alive hand wrapped tightly around his wrist as they’d escaped. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“No! No, I really did—“ Ren bit his lip in that infuriating way he always did when was frustrated but calm. Hux was certain he was the only person in the First Order that had ever seen that gesture—for everyone else, Ren’s frustrations resulted in violence. “I don’t fully understand it myself, but the Force wasn’t ready for me. It took me, and then gave me back.”

“Even the Force didn’t want you.”

“It has a different purpose for me,” snapped Ren. 

Maybe it was childish of Hux, but he was glad to hear frustration creep into Ren’s voice. The man had been far too calm and composed and it unnerved Hux. He knew how to deal with the impulsive and irrational Ren, but this Ren was something new and Hux hadn’t yet figured him out. Until he did, Ren had him at a disadvantage, and Hux hated being at a disadvantage.

“Besides, I was told that you were dead, too. I received a report saying that Pryde killed you for being the spy.”

“It takes more than a blaster bolt from a bastard like him to kill me,” Hux replied. “I was ready for it and took precautions.”

Shortly after Pryde had been promoted above him, Hux had taken advantage of his lower level of responsibility and the lighter work schedule it brought to establish some contacts. The first was Boolio, his go-between with the Resistance that had unfortunately been decapitated by Ren’s lightsaber, and the second was a weapons dealer based on Corelia. It cost two year’s salary—and a few First Order security clearances—but Hux soon had some body armor that fit neatly under his uniform in his hands.

Of course, body armor was useless against a headshot, but Hux had done his research on Allegiant General Pryde. The man had a long and impressive record of leadership, but he was a terrible soldier. Any Stormtrooper that recorded such low scores in the firing range would have been sent to reconditioning years previously, so Hux knew that Pryde would never risk missing a headshot when the body was such an easier, larger target.

Hux always had been the cleverest man on any star destroyer.

Where his contingency plan fell apart is that he hadn’t planned for the First Order to fall while he was still lying in a corner and licking his wounds. The blaster bolt hadn’t killed him, but the force of the shot winded him and broke some ribs, leaving him at the mercy of the Resistance soldiers that seized the ship shortly afterward. He was too injured to fight and had been captured with ease.

“I never really believed you were dead. You’re too cunning and clever to be outwitted by someone like Pryde. And,” Ren lowered his voice, “I’d have felt it, if you’d died.”

Hux had never really understood the Force. The Imperial database—usually a trove of information on everything in the galaxy—only held confusing whispers, and the only Force users Hux had ever known personally were Snoke and Kylo Ren. Neither of them had ever considered Hux important enough to speak of the Force in straightforward terms and as the years had passed, Hux had become fairly certain that neither master nor apprentice were the experts on the Force he’d assumed them to be.

Hux’s voice was equally quiet when he spoke. “What does that make us then? Two ghosts having a conversation on a backwater planet instead of ruling the galaxy, as we should be?”

Ren shook his head. “We shouldn’t be ruling the galaxy. I know that now.”

“So you really did betray the First Order,” Hux said icily.

“Something else we have in common, spy.”

“I never betrayed the First Order, Ren. I betrayed you.”

“I know.” Ren rolled his eyes. “I knew it was you all along, I just didn’t expect Pryde to take matters into his own hands.”

Hux’s first reaction was to think that Ren was lying to him—it wouldn’t be the first time, after all—but his expression was open and honest. “If you knew, why didn’t you kill me?”

“I should have,” Ren agreed. “I should have killed you as soon as I became Supreme Leader. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Hux looked at the man seated opposite him. Kylo Ren had personally killed more men with his own hands than anyone Hux had ever known. Ren had even killed his father, despite his obvious lingering sentimentality towards Han Solo. Yet he couldn’t kill Hux—an ex-lover that openly undermined him and covertly plotted against him.

Hux couldn’t understand it.

“In the end, it didn’t matter,” Ren said lightly, dismissing the emotional weight of his last sentence. “It was all a manipulation by the Emperor. The First Order, Snoke, Pryde, even the Knights of Ren. The Emperor was pulling the strings all along and I did what was necessary to stop him.”

Hux knew that the Emperor had returned. He knew that the fleet in Exegol belonged to him and that he would want to retake his throne and rule the galaxy once more. He didn’t know that the Emperor had been there all along and that he, along with everyone else, had just been pawns in the Emperor’s game. 

Hux had never had a chance of ruling the galaxy at all, regardless of Kylo Ren. Not with The Emperor lurking in the shadows.

“I always knew that the First Order was borne from the ashes of the Empire,” Hux remarked, “but I didn’t realize the fire was still burning.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s all gone. Even the Emperor.”

“What exactly happened? How did you kill him? How did you die?”

“I didn’t kill him—Rey did.” Hux felt his anger rise at how easily and casually Ren spoke the name of the scavenger. “But the effort killed her. I gave all of my Force energy to bring her back. I think— No, I’m sure Rey knows that I survived, even though she saw me pass into the Force.”

Hux’s mind was spinning. It hadn’t stopped spinning since Ren had appeared in his prison cell hours earlier, but now it felt like it was spinning so quickly that he was in danger spiraling out of control. Was he understanding Ren correctly? After a year of being obsessed with finding the scavenger, Ren had finally had her dead at his feet and brought her back to life, sacrificing himself in the process?

Hux thought he could live a million lifetimes and never understand the Force. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to anymore.

“If Rey knows you survived, does that mean she’s going to find you one day and bring you to justice?” More importantly, would Rey find Hux, and bring him to justice?

Ren shook his head. “No. Rey is— We’ve made our peace. Our paths won’t cross again. The Force has different plans for us both.”

“You said that earlier but didn’t explain,” Hux remembered. “What plan can the Force possibly have for Kylo Ren? Or should I be calling you Ben now?” Hux said, his disgust evident as he said the name. “Who are you? Did you reclaim your birth name when you killed the Knights of Ren and chose to bring the architect of your failure back to life?”

Ren’s cheek twitched in that way it always did when he was trying—but failing—to keep his emotions in check and Hux was glad to see that his comments had found their mark. During those weeks and months that Hux had spent pacing his cell, trying to figure out where it all started to go wrong, he’d come to the conclusion that it was the deflection of FN-2187 and the emergence of the scavenger that had been the catalyst for it all. 

FN-2187 had turned traitor, found the girl, and everything had exploded. What should have been the most glorious day of his life, the day he ended the New Republic and the Resistance with his Starkiller, was the beginning of the end.

“I don’t know who I am,” Ren answered honestly. “I’m not Ben Solo. I have too much blood on my hands for that. But I’m not Kylo Ren anymore either. I think,” he paused and ran a hand through his hair, “that I’m just Kylo.”

Hux had a biting comment on his tongue ready to be released, but it was silenced when Kylo softly uttered, “I always liked it when you called me Kylo.”

Hux’s anger drained out of him and the reality of where he was—and who he was with—came flooding back. He never thought he’d see Ren— Kylo again, and he certainly never thought they’d be alone, free, and speaking as equals. They hadn’t done that since before Starkiller Base fired. Before it all went wrong. Back when Hux knew the interior of Kylo’s quarters as well as his own and they whispered their hopes and dreams for the First Order to each other in the dead of night.

He’d called the man sitting opposite him Kylo then, hadn’t he? Yes. Although Hux struggled to remember so much these days, he remembered that well enough. Those nights together had haunted him since they’d finished. He was glad that they seemed to haunt Kylo as well.

“Okay, Kylo,” Hux expected the name to feel more awkward on his lips, like Ben had, but it felt as natural and comfortable as his own name did, “what plan does the Force have for you?”

“The Force calls to me and directs me. I feel a pull, right here,” Kylo said, placing his hand over his heart, “and I follow that pull across the galaxy. Wherever it takes me.”

“And do what?”

“Whatever needs doing. I help whoever needs help. It’s like I’m a bounty hunter, only instead of taking jobs from the Guild and being paid in credits, I’m taking jobs from the Force.”

“And being paid in what?” Hux asked. “Redemption? Is the Force making you atone for all of the people you’ve killed?”

“I think so,” Kylo agreed.
 
Hux felt his anger coming back again. For his sins, he'd been imprisoned without any debate. Nobody had suggested that General Starkiller could atone for what he’d done; the only option for him had been punishment with no end in sight. But Kylo Ren didn't get punished. He was allowed to wander free, traveling around the galaxy to ostensibly help people, when in reality all he was doing was helping himself.

“You do realize that there is no atonement for us,” Hux said firmly. “You can save every person in the galaxy and it won't undo anything that you've done. The people you've killed will still be dead, and the minds you ripped apart for information will never fully heal.”

“I'm aware of that, Hux,” Kylo snapped. “But I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”

Hux snorted in disbelief. “Does this crusade of righteousness help you sleep at night?”

“It doesn't make things worse,” Kylo replied, avoiding the question.

“And what about me? Where do I fit into all of this? How did you find me?”

“The way I find everybody I help. The Force led me to you.”

Hux didn't even try to hide the look of disbelief that crossed his face. For nine months Kylo had been flying across the galaxy, helping people and obeying the impulses of the Force in a futile attempt at atonement. How did rescuing Hux fit into that? Why would the Force want to help General Hux?

“Are you certain you didn’t misunderstand the directions?” Hux asked. “Maybe the Force meant for you to kill me, instead of rescuing me.”

Kylo shook his head. “It has a purpose for you, just like it has one for me. I don’t know what that purpose is yet, but it’s right that you’re here with me. I can feel it.”

Oh, how Hux hated the Force and its mysticism. He preferred armies and battles, where everything was straightforward and logical. The tactics of even the most intelligent opponent could be predicted and countered with enough study and planning. The Force, however, was always an unknown entity, one that changed its patterns and spoke in riddles. 

Just like Kylo.

“Are you going to keep me here like a prisoner?”

“No. If you want to leave I’ll take you somewhere else. There are a few planets near here that are just as hidden as this one. You should be safe from the Republic or any bounty hunters there. But, the Force took me to you for a reason, and I want to know what that reason is.”

Of course. It all boiled down to the Force and its whims for Kylo. He’d only rescued Hux because the Force had made him—otherwise, he’d have happily left Hux to rot in that cell. Hux kicked himself for daring to think that maybe, Kylo actually wanted him around. His need for Kylo had always been a weakness and had cultivated a strand of sentimentality that Hux didn’t think he had.

“I don’t care what the Force wants,” Hux snapped. “It’s only ever stood in my way and the First Order would’ve been successful without its meddling.”

“You’re not intrigued by—“

“Screw the Force,” Hux yelled, his emotions getting the better of him. “If I’m going to be bound to the machinations of the Force for the rest of my life, I’d rather be back in that cell.”

Kylo stood. He still cut an imposing figure, even now while dressed as a common scoundrel. “I’m not taking you back to that cell, but I will take you to one of the nearby planets if that’s your decision?”

Was it his decision? Was Hux even in the right frame of mind to make anything approaching a decision right now? He was physically out of prison, he’d cleaned up and didn’t look like a prisoner anymore, but he could still feel the lingering effects of nine months imprisonment under his skin. It clouded his thoughts and stopped him from thinking in his trademark cool, analytical manner. It must be, otherwise, why would he want to stay here, with Kylo?

Damn him and his foolish notions of atonement. And damn Hux for spending every night of his imprisonment dreaming of Ren, wishing that things were different and that they’d never separated. As much as Hux tried to convince himself it was the case, he’d never considered Ren seizing the title of Supreme Leader to be a betrayal. The betrayal was that he’d taken that title while discarding Hux, instead of keeping Hux by his side.

Sentimentality and emotion made you weak, and Hux hated that even now, he still held both for Kylo. He wanted to stay in this little hut, with its stone walls and humid surroundings. He wanted to take apart Kylo’s inelegant ship and piece it back together again into something better.

And most of all, he wanted to reacquaint himself with the man standing before him. No longer the Kylo Ren he’d loved, but not the Ben Solo he’d irrationally hated, either. Someone new. Someone different. 

Hux had spent his entire life wanting things he couldn’t have. He didn’t want to add one more to that list.

“It is my decision,” Hux stated firmly. “Unless you can give me a reason to stay that isn’t related to what the Force wants.”

For the longest time, Kylo remained silent. He simply stood there, his scarless face turned to the window again as he stared at the night sky beyond it. Night fell quickly on this planet it seemed, but Hux only spared the sky the briefest of glances. Instead, he kept his eyes on Kylo. The silence dragged on, but that didn’t bother Hux. He’d spent the last nine months in silence—he could survive it longer than Kylo could.

Eventually, Kylo spoke. “When the Force called me to Saria, I didn’t know what was there—I never do. I did know that this time was different. The pull from the Force felt warm and familiar in a way it never normally does. As soon as my shuttle touched down though, I knew you were there. What the Force was telling me became secondary. My only focus was finding you.

“The Force took me to you—that’s true. But I didn’t rescue you because the Force made me—I rescued you because I wanted to, Hux. I have a lot of regrets from my years as Kylo Ren, but one of the biggest is how I treated you when I was Supreme Leader.”

He was sincere, Hux knew. Kylo had never been able to lie to him when he was without his mask and Hux had no reason to think that Kylo had magically learned how to in the last nine months. Kylo’s words were welcomed—and Hux would have loved to hear them during the time he was Supreme Leader—but they weren’t quite enough. A couple of sentences couldn’t erase everything Ren had done.

“That’s still not a reason for me to stay.”

Kylo rounded the table and knelt next to Hux’s chair. Hux closed his eyes as memories of nights spent like this, with Hux sat on his ice blue sofa, working on his datapad as Ren lounged on the floor at his feet, flashed through his mind. Everything was different, but everything was the same.

“It’s just us and we have a free future ahead of us,” Kylo continued. “No Republic soldier or bounty hunter will find us. We can create the life we want, instead of the one forced on us by our parents and the First Order. Neither of us has had that choice before.”

Hux opened his mouth to argue that point with Kylo, but then he realized the truth of Kylo’s statement. Hux was born into the First Order, and once that train had started its journey it was impossible to stop. He’d always taken pride in the success of his military career and had dedicated himself completely to it, but he hadn’t chosen it. Would he have chosen it, if he’d had the choice and knew what he knew now? 

That was a question Hux knew he could never answer.

“What about the Force?” Hux asked. “Isn’t that your master now?”

“The Force isn’t a demanding master. It doesn’t give me orders every day, it doesn’t punish me if I disobey and it doesn’t expect more than I can give. It gives me a purpose and I chose to listen to it. You don’t have to listen to it—you can travel with me or stay here.”

Kylo’s answers were compelling, but lacking. Hux needed more and he sensed—or was it hoped?—that what he needed was there, hiding beneath Kylo’s insecurities and fears. “Stars, Kylo. Stop talking in riddles and say it.”

Kylo reached out and placed a tentative hand on Hux’s knee. When Hux didn’t shake him off, he tightened his grip. “I want you to stay with me.”

It was what Hux had needed to hear from Kylo for years—an honest declaration that he was wanted. 

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” Hux replied. “I don’t know who I am, either.”

Kylo nodded in agreement. He knew that was true. “Do you want to find out?”

He did. “Yes.”

It wouldn’t be easy, Hux knew. He still had some residual anger against Kylo for how he’d been treated and was certain that Kylo had complicated feelings towards him, too. It wouldn’t be a peaceful existence—they’d likely argue more than not—but it was the life Hux wanted. It was a life of freedom, choice, and opportunity. After a life with none of those things, Hux was willing to give it a try.