Chapter Text
He was in a fit of rage when he realized it. He was imagining reaching out, wrapping his hands around Ren’s throat—Hux knows he’s physically stronger, once the Force is out of the equation. He could do it. They’re standing close enough, and the fury pounding through Hux’s veins, making his hands practically itch, would fuel him long enough to crush the air out of Ren’s throat. Perhaps first grab him by the front of that ridiculous cape and smash his head into the console. Hux would relish feeling the gasping strains of Ren’s esophagus against his palms. That’s when he realized that it’s been years—at least eight, possibly more—since he’s physically touched another person.
The realization was enough to make him simmer down somewhat as he reflected on that rather than on the multitude of ways Kylo Ren has attempted to enrage him that day. Hux supposed the statistic is unfair—he’s technically touched others, albeit through the leather of his gloves. But there seems to be a distinction between the necessity of touching someone—say, in combat—and consciously choosing to do so, wanting to. He doesn’t make a habit of physical contact, though, and it’s not surprising that people don’t consider him particularly inviting.
“You’re not even listening,” Ren growled, voice distorted through the useless filter of the mask.
“Can you blame me, Ren?” Hux retorted icily, pulled out of his own thoughts. “I do, believe it or not, have more urgent matters to attend to, so if you wouldn’t mind taking your tantrum elsewhere, I would appreciate it.” Hux turned away from him, focusing his attention on the datapad he was holding.
Ren huffed and stormed off, and his absence was an immediate balm to Hux’s foul mood. He gave out orders to the technicians seated at the consoles on the bridge, altering their course slightly in accordance with the latest information on one of the rebel outposts.
“General,” came a voice at his side. He turned, giving a cursory glance at the woman. Her uniform designated her as a low-ranking officer, reporting to one of the Captains. Hux cursorily noticed her eyes—they were self-assured and incredibly intense, unlike most of the averted, nervous gazes those of her rank usually gave him. “Captain Phasma requests your presence in interrogation room Epsilon.”
“Tell her I’ll be there momentarily,” Hux said dismissively. The woman nodded, then hesitated as if she had more to say. Hux raised an eyebrow, impatient.
The woman said nothing, just pulled her shoulders back to stand straighter before turning on her heel and heading away from the bridge.
Hux gave a few final directions to one of the engineers and made a note in his datapad before heading down the corridor to the interrogation room. “What have you learned?” he asked Phasma as he approached her, stationed outside the heavy door.
“The base houses approximately one hundred rebel sympathizers, many of whom have little combat training. Mostly engineers, hence the high level of security around the planet. There’s virtually no way for us to approach without being spotted, thus our attack will have to rely on force, rather than stealth.”
“And what of the weapons?” Hux asked.
“There is apparently a significant stockpile there, but well hidden,” Phasma reported. “Most interesting, however, is that the prisoner mentioned several disappearances, high-ranking members who, presumably, left to perform undercover missions—”
“We have no time for trivial speculations, Captain,” Hux pointed out tersely. “If you’ve completed the interrogation, terminate the prisoner. Do not waste our time on the mindless gossip of these rebels.”
“Yes, sir,” Phasma replied, her tone equally terse, annoyed at being cut off. But his subordinates on the Finalizer knew better than to disregard a direct order from their General, and Hux really was too busy to have his best Captain wasted on a fruitless interrogation.
“The base is small, and we have enough information and firepower to settle this matter swiftly. Soon enough, their plans will not matter to us,” Hux reminded her. “Oversee the execution, then ready your troops. We arrive in a matter of hours.”
Hux stood on the bridge as the Finalizer loomed over the small planet. The terrain seemed to be mostly verdant, something Hux had not cared to investigate. He rarely went out on missions like this, though he’d had extensive combat training at the Academy. High-ranking officials were not accustomed to getting their hands dirty. Hux inadvertently thought again of his gloves. Something possessed him to remove them and stow them in a pocket of his coat for the time being. He stood with his hands on the console in front of him, waiting for the report that the shuttles had made contact. Five hundred stormtroopers, five unit captains, thirteen medics, three technicians, and Kylo Ren were on their way to the surface of the planet to destroy the rebel base. Overkill, perhaps, given the size of the place, but Hux wanted to be sure the job was done properly.
“TR-squadron has landed, General,” came Captain Ulri’s voice over the comm system. The four other captains summarily checked in as well—all was going to plan.
“Ren, be sure to locate those weapons before killing everyone in the base,” Hux said over the comm. He hated being so reliant on Kylo’s magic mind-reading powers—it flattered the man’s ego too much—but they were undeniably efficient in situations like this.
“Duly noted, General,” came Ren’s sarcastic reply. “I can hear them already. They’re panicking. Getting ready some sort of defense—Stop!”
Hux heard Ren’s urgent cry, then a confused cacophony of voices. There was a loud sound, unmistakably an explosion, and several of the comm channels went offline. Hux’s heart flew into his throat as everyone on the bridge began scrambling. “What’s going on? Someone get communications back up!” Hux ordered.
“General, we’ve sustained casualties. Some sort of bomb. We’re commencing the assault on the base now,” came Phasma’s haggard voice.
Hux waited on the bridge with gritted teeth, listening to the reports of Phasma and the few medics whose comm units were still functional. He felt useless in situations like this, but he trusted the wisdom and training of his subordinates. They were well aware that failure would not be tolerated.
Once the outer defenses of the base were broken, the mission was easy. Their informant had been right; those inside had little combat training, and put up hardly any resistance.
“It appears the base is clear, General,” Phasma reported in due course. “We’re beginning a search for the weapons stash.
“Get Ren to do it. We don’t have all day,” Hux pointed out. Not being able to communicate directly with those on the ground was irritating—he made a mental note to improve the quality of their equipment.
“Ren isn’t here,” Phasma reported. “I can’t get through to him on the commlink. Presumably he was injured in the first blast. We’re manually searching the base now.”
Hux felt his heart sink, a reaction he did not understand. “Report back once you’ve found them,” Hux said curtly. The mission had not quite gone according to plan, but he was still confident that they would find what they were looking for. As for Kylo Ren…
Hux pressed a few buttons on the console, selecting the channel for the head medic. “Avaan. Is Ren among the injured?”
Her voice was obscured by static, and she was clearly distracted. “Yes, he’s already been sent back to the Finalizer. He was one of the ones closest to the blast.”
Hux gritted his teeth. This operation would have been so much easier with Ren. That was how he rationalized the sinking feeling in his stomach. With Ren injured, the First Order wouldn’t be able to take advantage of his power. Hux had gained a reputation for his efficiency, and—though loath to admit it—that was partly due to Ren’s use of the Force. Hux scowled, angry at himself for actually worrying about the man who caused him so much irritation.
The next few hours were a blur of activity. The troops found the stolen weapon stash deep in a vault underground. They transported everything up to the Finalizer and took the files from the databanks before razing the rebel base to the ground, destroying anything and anyone left inside. The med bay was filled with injured soldiers; Hux was still waiting on the official casualty count. The engineers who weren’t occupied with the newly secured information from the base were focused on improving communications technology, motivated by Hux’s earlier rage. Hux himself was in one of the meeting rooms adjacent to the bridge, just dismissing a briefing with some officials. They filed out, and Hux used the second of silence to close his eyes and press his fingertips to his temples. His eyes shot open again as he heard footsteps approach.
“Excuse me, General.” It was the same officer as before. She held a datapad out to him. “The report on today’s mission.”
Hux stood and took the device, glad to finally have an accurate description of what had happened on the surface. The smooth metal felt cold in his gloveless hand. The woman remained standing in front of him, as if she had more business with him. “Is that all?” Hux asked pointedly, remembering how she’d done the same thing that morning. And come to think of it, he didn’t remember seeing her before that day, although that wasn’t exactly surprising—there were thousands of crewmembers on the ship.
The woman opened her mouth, closed it, then stood up straighter, raising her chin (proper posture begets confidence, Hux recalled from his early days at the Academy). “General, if you’ll permit it, I would like to say that I greatly admire your tactical skills and leadership. It is an immense honor to serve under your command,” she said in one breath. Her voice was steady and businesslike, and her expression blank. Clearly she was making an effort to display confidence.
Hux was silent for a second. Compliments of that sort were rare, and nearly unheard-of from the lower-ranking officers. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Kesna Inar, sir,” she responded.
“Inar,” he repeated. “You are aware, of course, that today’s mission did not go to plan, and yet you still feel this way?” he asked, trying to make sense of her strange declaration.
“Yes sir,” she replied without hesitation. “Today’s casualties were necessary. The stormtroopers died valiantly fighting for the First Order, and in return we gained valuable information and technology, as well as destroyed a rebel outpost. Because of your command, sir, the First Order was victorious today.”
Hux huffed out a chuckle. The woman was intelligent—she was clearly attempting to flatter him in order to gain favor or promotion, and Hux had to admit it was working. “That will be all, Inar,” Hux said, not quite as terse as usual. She nodded and left the room. Hux resumed his seat and began to go over the mission report, wishing that his superiors would see things in the same light as she did.
It was late when Hux checked in with the medical staff. Dr. Avaan looked undeniably tired, and yet was somehow also in her element. Hux had, more than once, wondered if she didn’t secretly enjoy it when the crew sustained injuries.
“General. We’ve managed to stabilize most of the injured stormtroopers. Some losses were, of course, inevitable,” she reported.
“What is the current number of casualties?” Hux asked.
“Fifty-one from the blast itself, or injuries sustained therein. During the assault, an additional forty-six fell, brining the total to ninety-seven. There are two here who we don’t expect will make it through the night.” Her tone was businesslike and devoid of emotion; people in her line of work didn’t usually mourn.
Hux frowned. Nearly one hundred troops dying in a routine, supposedly simple raid was unsatisfactory. It must have been a powerful explosion. Suddenly Hux felt his heart skip a beat, as it had when he’d heard Ren yelling over the comm. He was one of the ones closest to the blast, Avaan had said earlier. “And Ren?” Hux asked, managing to feign disinterest.
Snoke will be furious if he dies on my watch. Not to mention, losing his powers would be a significant setback. He is useful. That is why I wish for his recovery, Hux told himself, trying to rationalize the strange, icy feeling in his stomach.
“Stable, but unconscious. He was removed to his own chambers. Medics are standing guard. There’s no way to know when he will wake,” Avaan said. Hux just nodded, silent. “If that’s all, General…”
“Yes. Dismissed,” Hux said, collecting himself. Dr. Avaan briskly went back to work, and Hux left the med bay, lost in thought.
He walked aimlessly, as if his body were on autopilot while his mind reeled. Eventually, however, he remembered himself, and realized that he’d wandered close to the sector where Ren’s quarters were. Perhaps he’s already regained consciousness, Hux thought to himself as he tapped an override code into the lock panel of Ren’s door. He didn’t admit to himself that he knew just how poor that excuse was.
“General, Kylo Ren is still—” began the medic stationed outside Ren’s chambers.
“Yes, yes,” Hux said dismissively, striding into the room and leaving the old woman behind. It was quiet and dim inside Ren’s room. Hux rolled his eyes, unsure why he had expected otherwise. Ren lay in bed, looking almost corpse-like except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. His dark hair splayed out in sharp contrast to the white sheets. There was a deep gash on his shoulder, and a bruise on his temple. His arms, lying on top of the sheets, were covered in cuts and bruises as well. Hux didn’t feel like pulling back the sheet to see the further extent of Ren’s injuries. There was a chair next to the bed, probably where the medic had been seated. Hux sat, staring silently at the man.
Something felt odd, but Hux couldn’t place it. It wasn’t a physical sensation, but he somehow had the feeling that something wasn’t right. There was some kind of disturbance.
“Ren,” he said, trying to steady the turbulence in his mind. Hux reached out and covered Ren’s hand with his own, uncertain of what possessed him to do so. The second their hands touched, everything went black.
The sky seemed to be swirling around him. Everything was dark, and the wind howled loudly, stinging his face. Fear gripped Hux. This didn’t make sense.
“No, no, please…I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I—”
A voice came to him, as if blown by the wind. Hux couldn’t see anyone. He began walking. The voice was begging, crying. Hux strained his hearing, knowing the voice was familiar but unable to place it.
Trees seemed to grow up out of the earth before his eyes; he was in a forest now, stepping carefully over roots and piles of dead leaves. Someone was kneeling on the ground.
“I’m lost, I don’t know where to go… What do I do?” the stranger seemed to ask thin air. “Help me!” he screamed.
Recognition hit Hux in the chest, and his whole body went cold. “Ren!” Something was drastically wrong—Ren sounded hopeless and terrified. Hux ran to him and pulled him up from the ground. Ren’s eyes were unfocused—he’s not wearing the mask, Hux realized—and he gripped Hux’s arms as if his life depended on it.
The wind immediately stopped, but the rustling of the leaves continued. Or, more accurately, an ominous whispering sound continued to pervade the forest. Hux didn’t understand how they’d gotten there. One moment they were onboard the Finalizer, and the next…
“Ren, you’re dreaming,” Hux said, a sudden clarity coming to him. It didn’t make sense that he would be seeing Ren’s dreams. It was impossible, unbelievable—and yet it was the only explanation. “This is a dream. Wake up.”
“No, no, no,” Ren whispered, his fingers digging into Hux’s arms. “I can’t, I don’t know how, I don’t know what to do!” he said frantically. “They’ll be angry, they’re all going to be so angry…”
It was unnerving to see Ren like this, and despite himself, Hux felt a shred of sympathy for him. “Ren. Everything is under control. Do you hear me? Everything is fine,” Hux said authoritatively. Ren looked at him, tears in his eyes. Hux felt his heart seize; seeing Ren like this was too much. The noise of the forest seemed to diminish, just a little. Ren loosened his hold on Hux, seeming to drift away from him. Hux reached out, finding himself unable to move his legs. “Ren, you need to wake up,” Hux repeated. They were getting farther and farther apart. Ren was fading into the darkness of the forest. Hux began to panic. He made one more attempt to move, to lurch his body forward.
He gasped as if resurfacing from underwater, and looked around to find himself yet again onboard the Finalizer. Ren lay next to him, still unconscious.
Hux panted as if he’d been running, and felt his heart pounding in his chest. He looked warily at Ren, unable to understand what had just passed between them. He’d been pulled into Ren’s mind somehow—against his own common sense, Hux knew that to be true. It has to be something to do with the Force, he reasoned, calming down finally. But I can’t use the Force. How…
Hux stood and took a step back from the bedside, not wanting to touch Ren again. He hastily put his gloves back on, as if a thin layer of leather could protect him from whatever strange power had taken hold of him. Them.
Without a word, Hux left the room, his mind no less calm than it had been when he arrived.