Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Hux first met Ben Solo, he was a lonely, awkward teen hearing voices in his head, and he was utterly lost.

It was unpleasant to consider. Hux had never been lost before. He'd grown up under Snoke's teaching and leadership. He had a Purpose, and he was proud of it. Until Ben, he has just assumed that everyone had a Purpose. It came as a bit of a shock to find that this was not the case. How could someone live their whole life without one?

Considering what Ben had managed to do with his life was so far, Hux realized that was part of the problem.

As soon as he realized this, Hux made it his personal (secret) mission to find Ben his Purpose. It would have to be within the First Order, naturally. There could hardly be true Purpose in the universe outside of that. Maybe Ben could be his protégé! Now there was an idea. To stand at the head of Snoke's armies with Ben at his side...Hux knew he could be a great leader, and maybe this boy could help.

--

When Hux first met Kylo Ren, he was still lanky and awkward, and he was ordering him around. Hux could hardly believe it. Something had gone terribly wrong with his plans somewhere, because instead of coming under his wing like he was supposed to, Snoke had whisked the boy away and started filling his head with thoughts of power and magic and Purpose, and the kid who had called himself Ben seemed to think that meant the universe owed him something.

It wasn't fair at all; suddenly Ren was the new favorite, Snoke's choice pet that he was grooming for great things. Hux's training was delegated to other teachers, and less and less attention was spent grooming him for his Purpose.

In response, Hux worked harder than he'd ever worked before. He worked harder than everyone. If Snoke thought that the dark, whining stray kid he'd brought in would ever replace Hux's skill or leadership or results, he was mistaken. Hux was always going to be the best, he just had to prove it to him.

It was, after all, his Purpose.

Chapter Text

“How does she do it?” Rey asked Poe one day, the two of them sitting by Finn's bed and watching the machines monitoring his vitals (both pretending not to pray he would wake up).

Being as they hadn't talked all that much about anything but their friend, it took Poe a second to fully register the question. “You mean the General?” he asked finally.

“Yes.”

Well, that was a loaded question. “The General does a lot of things, Rey. You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that.”

“Why isn't she falling apart?” She seemed almost embarrassed by the question, a blush crawling up her cheeks. “I mean...I've barely been off Jakku a week, and I've flown a ship and made friends and lost them and been captured and escaped and fought Kylo Ren and almost died but didn't...anyways, so much has happened, and it's all I can do not to burst into tears at any moment.” Poe had a feeling that she didn't say that lightly. Rey wasn't the type to admit weaknesses to anyone but herself, and maybe not even then. Certainly not to a man she barely knew and only trusted because Finn and BB8 trusted him. “She's so strong.”

For once, Poe didn't have a ready answer on his tongue. Aunt Leia (he still had trouble reconciling The General with the woman whose shoulders he'd climbed on as a child) wasn't easy to explain when you hadn't grown up in the world she'd helped to build. Stories about the Rebellion and the fall of the Empire had been taught to him before he'd walked on his own. They were part of him, as much as sand and scraps and determination were a part of Rey that he would never totally relate to.

“The General is special,” he said finally. If only he had Aunt Leia's way with words. “Believe it or not, she's been through worse than this and then some. It hasn't stopped her yet.”

“And it didn't break her?”

Poe looked at Rey's shining eyes, and saw the first sparks of hero worship. Which was all well and good (and Aunt Leia probably was a safer role model than her husband, even though Poe had clearly followed in his footsteps), but he remembered a conversation he'd had with The General not too long ago. “We are all of us broken in some way. It's what we do with the pieces that makes a difference.” There had been a faraway look in her eyes that said she was thinking of Home again, which meant Han or Alderaan depending on the day.

He shook his head. “More like...she built something out of the pieces,” he said finally. “It all depends on what you build.”

“Hm.” Rey was quiet after that, thoughtful. And there was definitely some hero worship going on. “Build something....”

Good. Poe hoped he'd be around to see what she built.

Chapter Text

“Okay, listen, kid; the first thing you need to know about being a smuggler is that there are rules.”

“I'm not a smuggler,” Luke pointed out wearily, like he'd had this conversation many times in the past three days. (He hadn't. They'd discussed his future twice, maybe three times if you counted that one heated argument about idealism versus self-preservation. And maybe once when Chewie had gotten him a little bit drunk; how was the Wookie supposed to know the kid was a lightweight?) At least he wasn't arguing anymore. To Han, that was a sign that he was softening.

“Rules,” he repeated, with more emphasis than strictly necessary. “Now, I know what you're thinking; smugglers don't follow rules! That's what makes them smugglers. Well, kid, I'm here to tell you that you're wrong. Laws, we break 'em. That's not even a discussion. But rules are a completely different thing.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. In the corner, the old man was sitting quietly, supposedly meditating; but Han could swear that he saw a hint of a smile on his face. Chewie was openly skeptical of his statement.

Ungrateful heathens. But it didn't matter. The kid was going to get his lesson one way or the other, and he was going to be so dazzled by the life that he joined their little crew immediately and left this ridiculous Rebellion crap behind. Idealism did not breed longevity in this day and age. And, as annoying and stubborn and cocky as the kid could get, Han also much preferred him alive.

“If you all could cut it out with your silent judgment, I am actually trying to impart some knowledge here.” He ignored Chewbacca's roaring laughter. “Rule One: Trust no one but your own crew, and sometimes not even them. Trusting people gets you dead. This is particularly true of farm kids with attitudes and their heads in the clouds, not that I know anyone like that...” Luke shrugged, and leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Hm.

“Rule Two: Watch your crew's backs. You never know what might be coming, so be prepared for everything.”

“That sounds like two rules to me,” Luke pointed out.

Han threw his hands in the air. “Hey, I didn't write 'em! I just pass 'em on. Rule Three: Don't screw up. This one is immediately and aptly followed by Rule Four: Seriously. Don't screw up.”

“Are they the same to balance out the double rule? Because I'm not sure it really works that way...”

Han was getting tired of this kid's sass. “Look, do you want to learn the rules, or not?”

“Not.”

“Well, too bad!” He huffed, arms crossed over his chest. No amount of money was worth this. “Rule Five: Cash out before you pass out.” Chewie rumbled something under his breath. “No, I don't understand what it means, Fuzzball. But it's in the rules so you'd better take notes!”

Luke raised his hand. Since it was a gesture that Han hadn't seen since he was a kid in school, Han decided to humor him. “Yes, Mr. Skywalker?”

“Well, I was just wondering –”

Han never did get to find out what it was that Luke was wondering. At that moment, the confounded protocol droid that they'd insisted on dragging along with them ran out into the common area (well, it was more of a fast shuffle), followed by the angrily squealing astromech unit. Damn droids.

“Master Luke!” the one was saying, flailing his arms around and looking even ridiculous than he usually did. He sounded agitated, though that wasn't all that strange, either. “Master Luke! I told him not to do it! You know that I would never allow him to do anything to jeopardize our safety. But he connected to the ship and –”

“HE WHAT?” Han thundered, because no. Nobody but him or Chewie was supposed to touch the Falcon, he'd made that very clear the moment they'd come onboard. “What did he do? Let me at him! Damn droids, what did I tell you?”

Further smuggling lessons would have to wait until later.