Chapter Text
The first few weeks of Kylo’s absence were tolerable enough, for Hux. Even without his lover physically present, they had still been mentally connected - he could feel Kylo through the Force, could even speak to him, could share emotion and experience.
It made the separation bearable, for both of them.
And then the wall went up.
Hux knew it wasn’t some mental defense of Kylo’s; he had felt what it was like to be shut out by Kylo’s doing, in the minutes before the destruction of Starkiller Base. That had been an emptiness.
This was a hard steel barrier, and he had confronted Snoke about it as soon as it went up.
Snoke insisted it was necessary for Kylo’s training, that he be cut off from outside influences.
Hux thought that was a massive crock of shit, but he wasn’t about to say that to Snoke.
So instead he had schooled his face, said “yes, Supreme Leader, I understand,” and found Phasma and got very, very drunk with her.
When he sobered up, the next day, he started considering implications.
Considered the very depressing, very distinct possibility that Snoke intended to drive a wedge between them, or his training methods for Kylo were so brutal that he intended to keep Hux in the dark about them lest the General interfere.
He suspected Snoke was well and aware that Hux’s loyalty was no longer to him.
Or even, perhaps, to the First Order.
Once, Hux had been sure he was going to rule the galaxy. He would lead the First Order to victory, crown himself Emperor, and sometimes he had indulged in picturing Kylo at his side as his consort and brutal enforcer.
At some point or another, “Kylo at his side” became the only part that mattered. Now, he didn’t even have that.
He despised himself bitterly for indulging in that level of sentiment, but three years of Kylo and his sheer, rampant, constant emotions had done a number on Hux’s carefully constructed emotional control.
The longer Kylo was gone, the longer he had to deal with the emptiness in him that came from Kylo being cut off, the more Hux drank. It dulled everything, made it all that much more tolerable.
And drunken sleeps weren’t usually punctuated by terrible nightmares, of the Hosnian system, of Starkiller’s collapse, of Kylo cold and -- in his nightmares -- dead in the snow --- and the worst ones of all, the ones Hux feared were real, because they felt the same as the Force visions he’d had of Kylo when he was younger. They were dreams of terror and agony, of Kylo bowing under onslaughts of Force power from Snoke, or struggling in combat training against the other Knights of Ren.
He wondered, sometimes, if Kylo dreamed of him, alone and cold and only able to functionally command his ship with a quarter of a bottle of brandy in his system.
He hoped not.
With no urgent missions from Snoke, Hux was left to the task of recovering from the failure at Starkiller Base himself, on his terms.
And though he didn’t approach it with half the same enthusiasm he once had, Hux chose to recover by throwing himself back into galactic conquest. With the destruction of the Senate, there was plenty of discord to capitalize on. So Hux took the fleet and began nibbling on the edges of what had once been Republic space.
It was remarkable, how many planets just rolled over and surrendered when the Finalizer dropped into orbit.
Equally remarkable was how many resisted, struggled and raged until their last.
It was frustrating, having to plan around no longer having Kylo. He had been a brilliantly efficient weapon of destruction.
Hux hated admitting that he also couldn’t plan for his own presence in the field, but he was too close to drunk too often to trust himself in the field, be it behind a scope or directly in combat.
It was much more practical to come up with a generalized tactical approach and let Phasma handle the fine details on the ground; she was brilliant, anyway.
And then the Jedi arrived.
Picking up a Resistance X-Wing, alone, on a trajectory to the Finalizer was unusual enough. One that allowed itself to be pulled in was even stranger, and that was enough to have Hux personally at the hangar, hands gripped tightly behind his back in perfect parade rest and stilling the tremors.
(He considered himself a remarkably functional alcoholic, really, given that he had rolled over three systems and was now about to meet a potential Resistance hostage.
He was not, in any way, fine or even alright without Kylo, but he could function. That was what mattered, right?)
He was not prepared for Kylo’s fucking cousin to climb out of the cockpit.
“I want to speak to Kylo Ren.” She said, with what he suspected was all the confidence she could muster.
There was a lightsaber at her belt, and she looked more filled-out, like she’d been eating better; anything, he supposed, was better than whatever she’d eaten on Jakku.
“Kylo Ren is not currently aboard,” Hux said, and he could feel his officers’ eyes on him; as if they were worried the mention of Kylo’s name was going to cause him to break down.
Ridiculous.
(He had noticed them avoiding saying it, like some kind of bizarre superstition.)
“Then I want to be taken to him.” The girl - Rey - tilted her chin up and stared him down, and Hux felt a tiny smile tick up at the corner of his mouth. “He offered to teach me. I wish to take him up on that offer. The...the Resistance doesn’t offer what I need. To grow.”
Hux could feel the deception rolling off her, rippling through the Force, but she had obviously practiced this.
“So you’re defecting.” Hux said. She nodded. “Colonel Datoo,” the man jumped, looking startled. “Hold the bridge. Rey and I are going to talk.” He beckoned, and the girl practically bounced out of the fighter after him. He led her to a conference room. Once they were all seated around the table, Hux leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and interlaced his fingers, holding Rey’s eyes.
She was not here to learn.
That did not mean he couldn’t teach.
“Tell me, Rey, what caused you to leave the Resistance? Kylo told me you rejected his offer to teach you. Was quite disappointed about it, actually.” To put it mildly.
“Luke Skywalker is my father,” Rey said, and it came out in a rush. “He abandoned me on Jakku, left me there for fifteen years, because he thought it would protect me. Protection. Hah.” It was a tale of familial betrayal, practically giftwrapped to appeal to Kylo. Hux gave her points for style and dedication.
“And you’re angry.” Hux said simply.
“ Furious. ” Rey said. “She knew, you know, General Organa. She knew I was her niece, and she didn’t…” There was something genuine, an actual wound. “They didn’t even look for me.”
Hux extended a hand, to rest it on Rey’s forearm.
“You’ve made the right choice.” He said, and he projected certainty. “Kylo Ren,” he continued, “was not the only Forceuser on Starkiller Base.” A half-smile filtered across his face. “He is currently completing his training under the direction of Supreme Leader Snoke, but he has spent the past three years training me in the use of the Force. Frankly, at this point, all I need is a lightsaber.” Rey leaned forward, and he felt a ripple of surprise, but also genuine interest. “Until Kylo returns, I can begin your instruction in the wielding of the Dark Side of the Force. Is that amenable to you?”
She nodded so eagerly he thought her head might fall off. He smiled, genuinely.
“Excellent.”