He is immediately thrown back to that time on the Finalizer, years before, when she enters the cell where is kept prisoner, awaiting his execution. The tables turned on him. Interesting that she would want to be see him. Maybe she needs to confront him, or maybe she feels a flicker of something for him, tainted with hatred and disgust. He pretends not to recognize her and she frowns, searching his mind for clues. She has gotten stronger, his little scavenger, but he is used to those intrusions and soundings and he has built up great defenses. She is left unsure if he is lying, and he assumes she'll prefer him a liar for all kinds of reasons.
They stand, only separated by a couple steps. Rey is alone, but he knows there must be guards, soldiers, or otherwise security outside. Soon they'll come…
She seems to pick up on this because her gaze is averted, and she bits her lip.
"So...", she starts, and stops. Her voice is just the same, just as he remembers, just as he still dreams sometimes…
He inhales, a bit sharply.
"So". He still has his clipped, posh accent. More fitting for a man from another time, a decadent god emperor. But he's nothing, not anymore, and will never be emperor.
"This is the Resistance's fair and forgiveness. Quite interesting. Apart from that sham of a trial, this is not much different from what I am used to". He means the First Order. She tenses.
"Did they…?", she asks, before she can help it, and he gives a vague, elegant shrug.
"Torture me? They didn't touch me". His voice is collected, almost casual for such a discussion. He doesn't say they didn't hurt him, though. Her eyes roam over his uniform, a bad joke, they want him to wear it for his last day so the holos showing his execution over the galaxy have him quite recognizable. She knows there are other ways, civilized, or cowardly, and she looks uneasy. Does she regret not finding him bloodied and beaten?
"Anyway. Now that you have your fill, would you be kind enough to leave me enjoy my last moments in peace?". Once again, his voice doesn't waver and he could be discussing lunch break. She flinches. Oh, interesting. She doesn't like that.
"This is war, soldier, there is no wrong side, only a loser". He doesn't know why he says that. Except maybe because she doesn't want the Resistance to stoop to that level. Things are over for him, for them, but if he can poison her mind a little bit, he will. His sentence sounds soothing, almost removing the burden of morality from her side, but he knows it does just the opposite.
"He offered me to defect, your little friend. It would be alright if I did, he said". He carefully hides that for an instant he wasn't tempted, but did wonder… She is curious but lost, obviously doesn't know what she is talking about, so he brings up a memory of his face. The commander. Cheeks slightly flushed, and his mouth so red. He doesn't show her anything else, and she doesn't pry, probably because she only half believes it and doesn't want to know exactly. What he hints at is a half truth, or a half lie, so it is just as good. Let her think less of both of them, as long as it includes Dameron too.
But it brings her own memories back full force, and she thinks she is going to run, or faint. She didn't know she remembered so vividly, because she made sure not to allow herself.
There is a rattle at the door and it opens, revealing somber faced officers and behind them, soldiers. It is time. No matter, really, he doesn't want to live in a galaxy riddled with chaos, order absent. Nor does he crave a life inside this little cell…
"This is still better than what every life form in the Hosnian system will have", she retorts, trying to convince herself almost as much than him. He doesn't grant her with a reply but repeats himself.
"This is war, soldier. It is not for the weak, or the faint hearted". He addresses her like he would a young trooper, as if she were his underling, as if she were his… It disturbs her greatly and he feels it in what she projects subconsciously.
"Come enjoy the show?", he suggests seductively, and it is hard even for her to pick up the undercurrent of hurt, of anxiety, of fear, in the General. It makes him human, it makes it harder. She wishes she couldn't read him so well. Rey fears that she will cry, while he's the one being executed. He deserves it, he deserves it, though. She doesn't know what to give him to take his mind off it, or even if she should.
"I remember..", she says, and though he is not Force-sensitive, thank the stars, he just knows what she is talking about. Somehow he likes that she hasn't forgotten, and feels the need to bring it up, but it also makes everything more painful. Still he tries to send her aI Don't. He consciously makes sure his jaw doesn't tense as they bring him away, at last. Some shred of mercy, or a tight schedule. Execution, 10 minutes. After that, lunch break. He doubts she'll develop an appetite for a while. He smirks and she pales.
He doesn't look back, doesn't turn to look at her, as he is escorted out. It would be pathetic. But how he wishes to do it. He cannot even think of it, because she could pick it up, and he would be forever humiliated. Not that there's a forever for him. His gaze is hard, empty already. Hux stands straights, in command position. People he passes by can only take one look before they stare away. He could almost think himself home.
His last comfort is that he just knows she is going to think about it. She is ashamed, of course, and if he was a better man, he would tell her not to be. Really, it was almost to be expected. The pain, the terror, the isolation, some heavy mind games… Of course she would just have messed up. Asked him to stay a bit longer, because the long hours of loneliness were worse than the torture. He had wondered what he would do in such a case, and decided that he would disdainfully condemn her with a gaze and leave. Instead, he found himself sitting back. His hand rubbed gentle circles on her knee and he convinced himself he could feel her heat through the material. She didn't even seem shocked or mind it. She was too desperate, probably in shock, he assessed, with a healthy - or not - topping of Stockholm.
No, what had been absolutely unforgivable, had been his own behavior, giving in to stars knew what impulse, pushing her back until he was on top of her, whispering that he was there and it would be alright. Good girl, good girl, let me… She did feebly refuse him, saying No and trying to wiggle out of his embrace but he wouldn't have any of this, and she didn't really try, he told himself. Why would he debase himself with some low life, scum, filth… Yet, Rey courageously held his gaze, until he took her and she cried out, a tear escaping from her eye. He had been surprised, taken aback almost. He imagined her a rebel harlot, just as she imagined a First Order officer would routinely rape girls. She barely looked of age as is, and probably wasn't on a good number of systems. He didn't wipe away her pain but his forehead grazed against hers, soothing.
I didn't know, he offered, and she found it. Would it have made a difference, she taunted.
Probably not.
His mask had only slipped for an instant and he was carefully keeping it up now. The General of the First Order would probably give her only sharp, punishing thrusts, but Hux slowed down, if only slightly.
So good, so tight. I'd do you any day, he thought. He was too refined a man to utter such things outloud. She sent no retort this time but moaned as he opened his mind for her to have a look at how debauched she appeared, at how warm and soft she felt around him. She accepted it, perhaps because she enjoyed it, or because she escaped some of the pain that way. He possessed her again and again, and she moaned, from his pleasure or hers or a mix of those, she cried out in quite another way when he came, while he remained silent, her hands at his lapel, on his back, his shoulders, everywhere - stars, even on his face. He didn't want to kiss her because it was intimate, it was something he simply did not do, but he dipped toward her face and gave her a ravishing kiss, their tongues sparring for control, while she bucked and whined and he felt some tug in his chest. Hux froze as he realized.
He pushed her hands away, composing himself and standing up, tucking himself in and thanking whoever for tunics because his glove came back bloodied. There is no way the General wouldn't have recognized the deep shine of it on black. A smug smile on his face, a smirk almost as he looked at it enraptured. "Beautiful", he whispered.
It was all dawning on her. She had throw herself at the enemy. Opened her mouth, her legs for him. She had come around him, while he finished inside of her - they had come together and he caressed him through that. Her virginal blood was on his hands. Her purity, her innocence… On General Hux's uniform. On General Hux's cock.
She stared at him, then, eyes huge, face pale, knuckles white and hands balling into fists, screaming in her mind and way past crying, as she did years later, when they took him to his death.