Summary: Rey tries to escape, repeatedly, ultimately forcing Hux's arm while grinding every one of his gears. Nobody's happy about this new development. At all.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)


The days had started bleeding into each other. The first two days Rey had paced the small cell from corner to corner, inspecting every edge, trying to find any and every small crack she could exploit and find a way out of this Light forsaken hellhole. After her first meeting with… she didn't know who he was, actually, she realized in a small moment of confusion. Rey assumed he was important, however, because he seemed to always come and go as he liked, flanked by stormtroopers, and he had called her a stray to Ren's face without ending up on the wrong end of his lightsaber, and that had to count for something. After her first meeting with the redheaded man, Rey decided she would find a way to escape or die trying. Her first order of business was to use the hard edges of her handcuffs to make a mark on the wall, rubbing herself against it to make sure it indents: day one.

By the second night, her pacing has slowed from frantic to a methodical count of the steps it takes her to get around the perimeter. The count keeps her sane, keeps her thoughts occupied on something other than the horrible wave of crushing defeat that keeps roaring up inside of her, licking at her mind. She had denied the redhead an audience, and nearly fallen out of her seat when he calmly took a step back and accepted her refusal as if she were only turning down a meal (which she would never do). After his retreat, Rey had settled herself to plotting her escape.

On the third night her nerves are on edge. She's sleep deprived and cold. Freezing, in fact; the outfit given to her by the Resistance perfect for travel but very ill-suited to being kept in the equivalent of a freezer for days on end. She examines the walls, knowing she will find no cracks, no weak edges of metal in the walls, and sighs, flopping on one of the two chairs that were left in the room. She considers her options: she could break a leg off and use it to club the troopers over the head when her meal is delivered. If it's delivered. Her stomach grumbles in response, and Rey grumbles at the thought that her last meal had come over 24 hours ago. As soon as she rests back on the chair she's uncomfortably reminded of the durasteel restraints around her wrists and she growls. Even if she managed to make a weapon out of a chair, she couldn't use it while her hands were tied behind her back. A reminder of how weak she is; what good does the Force do to her if she can't control it enough to get these blasted things off?! They had come off for meals, quickly removed by a small and efficient droid. They had taken precautions to keep her from bending another stormtrooper's mind, she notes with satisfaction. Good. Let them believe she's strong. At least strong enough for that.

But clubbing a droid over the head would not do. She was fond of droids. It was not their fault that humans used their programming for wrong-doing, and bringing her a meal did not deserve a whack and potential malfunctioning in return.

Her stomach growls once more at the thought of food, and as if on cue, she feels more than sees the doors hissing open to admit a small droid bearing a tray of food on top of a bundle of something. Stormtroopers stand armed to the teeth across the hall, staring warily at her as the droid enters the chamber, far enough away that she could not speak to them and use compulsion, yet close enough to be able to stop her if she tries to run.

The droid comes around her as the closing door blocks her view of the soldiers, quickly undoing the locking mechanism of her restraints with a push of a round key-like piece of metal into the matching hole in her handcuffs. There's the whir of the lock giving way, a sharp, metallic click, and then the handcuffs are falling off her wrists and into a mechanical claw before they hit the ground. She immediately rubs at her now freed wrists, bringing them close to her eyes to examine. They look as though she's wearing bracelets, ugly ones. Sickly yellowy-red rings of old bruises, topped off with newer ones, purple and blue and angry, circle her bony wrists like wounds. Rage sparks inside her chest.

"Prisoner 3259," comes the tinny mechanical voice of the droid, sputtering out technical data about her food. "Your meal is currently at perfect temperature for human consumption. This room's temperature is fifty-six degrees. It will take approximately fifteen minutes for the contents of your plate to become cold. Please eat now."

Rey does not pay attention. Her mind zeroes in and her anger spikes at being called a prisoner and given a number, stripped of her name, of anything that marks her as an individual. She wonders if this is how Finn felt at being called FN-2187. Her heart constricts with pain at the thought of Finn. Where is he now? Had he recovered fully? Had he died? She doesn't know. He had been under heavy sedation and considered stable when she had last seen him, but injuries such as his could still take a turn for the worst at the last minute. She prays to a deity she doesn't know, anydeity that would listen, that her friend would survive. Her mind starts wandering to the rest of her friends when her thoughts are interrupted once more.

"Prisoner 3259," the droid calls out once more, its little wheels bringing it to face Rey. It has the bundle she had noticed in its claws, pushing them towards her, "A request has been made for this delivery."

She grabs it tentatively, and then a part of her wants to break down and cry because she sees it's a large, plush, soft fleece blanket. She's freezing.

"I—…" She starts, only for the droid to interrupt her once more to repeat its spiel about the food's temperature. Rey shakes her head.

"Thank you," she whispers to the droid, truly meaning it, and she can swear that it lets out a self satisfied whir of its internal gears. She wonders if she can persuade this little droid.

"My name is Rey," she offers tentatively.

The droid says nothing, does nothing, gears turning at a low buzz, and for a few seconds she thinks she must have imagined the previous sound and how silly of her; this is a First Order droid, they would be devoid of personality. But then the droid speaks.

"Prisoner Rey 3259," it chimes, and once more gives her the food temperature run-down, this time with far less minutes until it runs cold. Rey grins. She does not care about the food in this moment. The droid responded. Intelligently, though still within the restrictions of its programming. But still, it had responded with her name.

So she turns around and sets the blanket aside, picking up her tray and beginning to eat. The droid seems satisfied enough because it turns on its wheels and accesses the entrance. The door shuts behind it, leaving her once again with her thoughts, and she sets to devouring the gruel on her plate. Her stomach aches, half protestation, half delight at finally having something to digest, and for a second Rey feels the echoed pangs of something so similar to her hungry life on Jakku that her heart sinks. She had exchanged one hell for another.

Once she's done, she sets the tray to the side of the room - the droid would come back to claim it - A small thought passing through her that the droid hadn't waited as it always did, and it hadn't replaced her restraints. She curls herself up on the makeshift cot she had made for herself out of the two chairs that remained in the room. The blanket she had wrapped herself in is the most deliciously comfortable thing she remembers feeling, in fact, the most comfortable blanket ever. Her only comparisons were the rags she used during sand storms in Jakku, and the stiff blankets on the millennium falcon, and this one just felt like heaven. Soft, plush, and blessedly warm. She wonders if it had just recently been laundered, because the warmth couldn't possibly be natural. The sensation soon starts lulling her to a daze as she curls into the backs of the chairs, careful not to jostle them apart.

Then the door is opening up again to admit the redheaded man and she debates with herself on the merits of just staying lying down and denying him a seat, but then she feels the soft, warm blanket around her shoulders and sits up gingerly. She could grant him an audience. Doesn't mean she'd actually say anything useful, if at all. The man must be awfully good at non-verbal communication, Rey muses, because he somehow picks up on her decision without her saying absolutely anything. He slowly walks around the perimeter of the room, steps short and deliberate - perhaps even lazy, considering that his legs could cover ground in two short strides instead - until he's across from her in the corner. He turns and approaches her with even quieter steps. She refuses to make herself small for him, however, and does not move when he makes a grab for his chair and moves it in front of her, a good distance away.

Then he's sitting himself and his eyes roam the room, lingering a moment too long on the cuff marks she's been leaving on the walls, but if her vandalizing his ship bothers him at all, he doesn't show it. Instead he turns to look at her, crossing his legs at his ankles.

After a few heartbeats, he speaks, and Rey has a hard time looking away from his lips in that moment.

"Would you like to talk, today?" he asks softly. Rey's brain immediately speeds up a million miles an hour.

Why is this man giving her an option at all? She's a prisoner. Then she steels herself. Of course he's not giving her an option. He'll force it out of her when she refuses to oblige and his temper runs short, if he's anything like Kylo Ren. She wonders once more who this man is within this organization. A professional interrogator? It would make sense.

"I see… I have ordered your restraints to be permanently removed." He says, breaking the silence.

He must be joking, surely. She expected torture and screaming and lashes, perhaps, and does not doubt that it's coming, but her hands immediately reach to comfort her bruised and painful wrists, and still she maintains her silence.

Maybe if she stays quiet, he'll give up like yesterday and walk away. It's not like she has much to give him anyway - now that she truly thinks back on it, she spent less than twenty four hours with the Resistance, for all that's worth. For the hundredth time in the last three days she wishes she had access to Luke's Lightsaber. Her gears start turning with ways to get out of this blasted prison as she slowly, carefully rubs at her wrists.

Hux's eyes shift to her lap once, twice, three times, then back at her eyes.

"I will have a med droid examine them, make sure they're alright," he offers with a nod to the movement under the blankets.

Rey stops all movements, tenses, and looks at him for a second too long. What's he playing at? But the warmth of the blanket reminds her again that she's at his mercy, and the small acts of kindness he has shown can be taken away just as easily as they were bestowed. The last thing she wants is to spend days on end freezing her limbs off in this place. Rey is nothing if not a survivor. So she does the only thing she can, partly because she must, but partly because she means it.

She lowers her head and breaths out two small words.

"Thank you."

The tiny smile that plays on his lips tells her it works. She allows herself to relax a fraction and leans her head back on the headrest of her chair, giving a tiny sigh, but her eyes never leave his. She'd be stupid to close her eyes and truly drop her defenses. Her intent is to leave this place. So she'll play the long game she must play until she finds out how, and then she'll forget all this and leave it all behind.

Rey's thinking about what comes next — return to the resistance? Go back to Jakku? Perhaps she could just disappear into the outer rim like Finn had tried to, start over somewhere else with no Force and no War and no whoever this man was sitting in front of her — when he speaks once more.

"Rey…" he chimes, turning the word over as if examining whether it feels right, and her eyelids twitch at the sound of her name on his tongue. "I have a proposal for you."

Her head snaps up and she frowns. A what now?

The man in front of her leans forward again, looking up at her with palms extended, elbows resting on his knees.

"The truth is, I have no use for prisoners, especially those who won't talk."

There. She knew this was coming. Slowly, she steels herself up for potential pain. She's never been tortured before, but she's been in plenty of brutal fights to know what hard thrown punches feel like, and she'd been beaten to near death once or twice over salvaged scrap. She could endure. He simply continues as if he didn't just imply that he'd take what he needs by force.

"I also have no use for force users. That is Kylo Ren's thing, not mine." He offers her a small conspiratorial smile, but the tone of voice in which he says it tells Rey there's no love lost between the two. "So my options dwindle as the days go by…"

He lets the words sink in, the silence stretching. She'd be able to hear a pin drop.

Immediately Rey starts running through her options as well. How can she get out of here? Her eyes twitch towards the cameras she knows are hidden in the ceiling along the corners; she'd found them on the second day, and then her gaze swings back to the man in front of her.

"So perhaps we can come to a mutual agreement, yes?" he's dangling the offer like a carrot on a string.

"What offer?" she asks, not moderating her tone. She wouldn't give him the pleasure.

"Well… Simple, really. I can't let you go," he says, crushing her dreams of easy freedom immediately, "but I could make your life a whole lot more comfortable here. This room, for one." He swings his hand lazily about, making her turn her head and take in the bare, steely walls, the cold floors, the bright lights.

"In exchange for what, exactly?" She asks.

"Luke Skywalker."

Rey laughs, a rough, rusty thing. She can't remember the last time she laughed at anything.

"You want me to—…" she giggles, out of how unbelievable this whole situation was and how easy he had come out with it. "I fought in a collapsing planet in order to keep that secret, and you want me to hand it out to you for..what? A blanket?"

The man in front of her becomes feral for a second, but he quickly schools his expression, and Rey wonders exactly what his connection to that incident was. She shivers at the look that crossed his face, as though she were a mouse and he a very angry cat, but refuses to let him think she's intimidated by him. He doesn't move.

"Why were you in Ach'to?" he asks, and Rey's laughter dies immediately. His eyes flick back and forth between hers, as though trying to read what was there. Rey clams her mouth shut and glares.

"He's there, isn't he?" he asks.

"The Resistance probably knows by now that I've been captured." This is a lie, but she can only hope that someone would have guessed something happened in lieu of her absence with the Millennium Falcon.

The man in front of her shrugs.

"Perhaps," is all he gives in a nonchalant tone.

"They will come for me," she says. At this, he smiles, a wide, toothy smile that holds something dangerous at its edges.

"They can try," he taps his left fingers against the back of his right hand and her eyes fly to it. Then she forces her gaze up. She won't get distracted. This is too important for her to let sound get to her. Then the man says something that nearly splits her apart.

"But I am guessing they will not." He states matter of factly, "You're a nobody from a backwater wasteland of a planet who was turned down by the Resistance's god on earth, and you have nothing to offer them now that would benefit their best interests and Skywalker's rejected you; except somewhat decent flying skills, and they can't be that great if Kylo Ren locked onto your ship and hauled you back here kicking and screaming. They certainly have no one else to train you; not to use your magical powers, not to be a better pilot. You've only known them for..what? A handful of weeks at most? Do you really, truly know them? Why would you swear your undying loyalty to a group of people like that?"

Rey sits still as a stone, because her only other option would be to lunge for his throat and rip out his jugular with her teeth, and she doubts the two stormtroopers at her back would respond kindly.

She takes in every well aimed jab, every single rip at her ego and the few things she held with pride - her ability to fly, her ability to survive, her new sense of belonging, her new friends' faith in her, her faith in them - and mentally rages at the bastard sitting across from her. How dare he? She throws all caution to the wind, though, because her anger's gotten to her.

"You're no different, you monster," she spits, "or have you already forgotten that your precious Order just wiped out billions of people for…what? Your best interests? Why would I help a group of people like that?" she twists his words and throws them back at him.

He tilts his head, considering. The look of anger is gone from his eyes, replaced by something colder, stonier, and Rey suddenly starts fearing for her life.

"Because, as of right now, you're my guest. And the least you could do is behave and cooperate, no?"

"No."

He smiles then, and Rey can't tell if he's irritated or actually amused, though she's nearly sure it's the former.

"I hope you enjoy your accommodations, then," he finally speaks after what feels like a lifetime. The man in front of her gets up to his feet and moves to retreat.

She doesn't know why she does it. Why she speaks up, but it comes tumbling out either way.

"Wouldn't a guest know her host's name, at least? Or have I been demoted to prisoner of war once more?"

He stops, and Rey takes a split second to run her eyes over the broad expanse of his shoulders, thrown back and covered with fine, sturdy, impeccably pressed black fabric, gloved hands rigid at his side, ever the stance of someone used to giving orders. A commander, then. Then he's turning, and Rey's eyes widen slightly.

His face is entirely unreadable. She wonders how it could be that someone could guard their emotions so easily, and hopes that hers don't show at every turn. The only noise bouncing along the walls is the sound of his hard boots on the floors. He watches her from under long, thick red lashes, and Rey's starting to think she pushed a bit too far.

"Hux. General Hux, to you. Welcome aboard my ship."

A kriffing General? The man runs this ship? She nearly chokes. How was she not dead yet? The only other general she knows is General Leia Organa, the woman running the whole of the Resistance. A station of power, then. A very, very high station.

His back is to her in a brisk turn and he's walking out, and Rey's resolve to escape is stronger now more than ever as the door slams behind his retreating, powerful stride.


The first time she manages to escape out of her cell, she's so close to truly being free that once she lands back in a cell, she cries, uncaring of the cameras. After the general left, Rey set about to work. She removed her over tunic, ripping it to pieces between her teeth and with short fingernails. Her teeth positively hurt by the end of it. She had noticed that the cameras' red dot of light would flicker for a second every handful of hours. The lights in her room were blessedly darkened at night - another small mercy, perhaps? - And she was sure the cameras were equipped for night vision, but in the dark they couldn't reach every corner of the room. So she ripped her tunic into squares when the lights were on, and waited until they went dark.

Once dark, she took the chairs to the corners and dropped the small squares over the cameras' eyes. She waited with bated breath for the alarms to go off, but when nothing came, she quietly moved her chairs back to the center of the room and went to sleep.

When guards checked on her the next day, and the day after that, they would always find her asleep. The squares would come down, and she'd only cut more up from her tunic and repeat it the next day. Eventually, whoever was in command of the cameras assumed she simply wanted privacy, because they stopped taking her ragged scraps of fabric. Once she's gained their trust, she gets to work. The next two nights she covers the cameras, then stacks her chairs in the center of the room and gingerly climbs them, careful not to make noise by falling. She pries at the overhead light and her fingers start bleeding, but she doesn't care. Small cuts she can deal with. Whenever General Hux comes in to jostle information out of her, she carefully keeps her fingers hidden. By the third night, the cap on the overhead light pops off along with the lightbulb, and Rey allows herself a grin.

She shoves her hand through the hall, careful to avoid wires or yank anything out of place, and feels around tentatively. Then she feels it. Small little bolts. Rey's night vision isn't the best, but the tiny amount of light coming through the bottom crack of the door is enough. Of course, the ceiling's panels are bolted from the inside! But they didn't consider the one weakness…the light socket.

So she works at the bolts, slowly, carefully, one hand suspended under the panel to ensure it doesn't clatter to the ground. Rey manages to strip the two bolts closest to her, and suddenly she sighs when the panel swings upward. It won't fall after all. She climbs down, repositions her chairs immediately under it, climbs back up carefully and pushes it until it rests on the inside with a soft thud. This is it!

She climbs up into the wires, praying to the Maker that there are no exposed wires, and breathes a sigh of relief when she finds a clear ventilation shaft. Rey climbs on her elbows and knees, hissing every once in a while at scraped skin, but keeps going. Her heart is thrumming in her ears and she's feeling a little sick, but she follows the ventilation shaft along the ship like a rat inside the wall - the thought makes her want to giggle, really - until she overhears stormtroopers.

From there on, the climb is slower, stopping any time she hears sounds. She knows she's following blind, but at least she's not stuck in a holding cell. Eventually she comes across a hall with zero sounds. So, rarely patrolled. She waits a good twenty minutes to make sure, and when no sounds come, Rey works her aching fingers over panel bolts and drops into the hallway. She has no weapon, but at least she knows she can use compulsion on a trooper, and she's careful to boot.

She finds an information station and taps at it hurriedly until she finds her location in relation to the hangar. Fifteen minutes later, she's there, crouching behind a bolted and tied TIE fighter. Her eyes rove over the area. So many ships. So many. She didn't know there could be this many.

Her heart hasn't stopped beating and she's out of breath from the slamming heartbeat at her throat. Her nerves are on edge, and this might be her only chance to escape, but she needs her ship in order to do so. Her eyes run up and down the hangar and panic starts to build.

There are TIE fighters everywhere she looks, and a few command shuttles she assumes belongs to the commanding officers, but no white ship amongst the blackness. She'd grabbed a wrench the length of her forearm to use as a weapon. She had found it inside a supply closet, the only metal, heavy thing she could find, and is now wielding it with an iron grip of her own. The ship must be somewhere.

As she makes her way to return to where she came from, she curses this blasted gigantic destroyer. There must be a second hangar somewhere. She'd find an information station and locate the next.

Except it only lasts long enough for her to enter a hallway when a stormtrooper appears. It wasn't supposed to be there. She had counted the turnaround for patrols. She curses under her breath.

"HALT!" the stormtrooper screams at her.

Rey bolts. But she's stuck between the Hangar and a hallway, and she skids to a stop at the realization. Her only way out is through that hallway. She turns around to go back and incapacitate the Stormtrooper when yet another one comes from a different hall, having heard its comrade.

Kriffing Hell.

"HALT!" the command comes louder this time, and soon enough the second stormtrooper is activating the overhead alarm. Loud, screeching noises go Woo-Woo-Woo! Overhead until Rey is sure she's about to get a splitting headache. The stormtroopers slowly advance, aiming their blasters straight at her, and she sets into a crouching stance. Another set of Stormtroopers appear at a run, and Rey's cursing just about every damned being on this ship when they pounce.

She twirls out of the way, one stormtrooper accidentally knocking another one with its blaster. They're in too close quarters to shoot, and so she quickly gains the upper hand, swinging her iron wrench like a club at helmets and chests and kneecaps. She's so close. So close.

Her wrench meets a stormtrooper helmet and he falls with a sickening crack, the visor visibly broken, the stormtrooper screaming murder. She doesn't spend a second wondering if she blinded it - them, she reminds herself. It's a person in there - before she twists to avoid a hit to her abdomen.

And then, a familiar voice floats to her.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

She falters, a reflexive reaction at the General's voice, and that's all it takes for her to lose her advantage.

Something hard rams into her back between her shoulder blades. A blaster, she thinks, stumbling forward a step.

"Apprehend her."

General Hux is standing there still in uniform, impeccable as ever, and a ridiculous part of her brain wonders if he ever changes or if somebody just irons his clothes while he's wearing them.

Her hands are thrown roughly behind her, pinned on her lower back, and she hears more than feels the resounding thunk of metal clicking shut on her freedom. Rey throws her head down and shuts her eyes tight.

She was so close.


General Hux takes away everything. The chairs. The blanket. Her clothes.

She's put into military issued underwear. If she were to rip anything off, she'd be left entirely naked. She curls up atop the cold slab of metal built into the wall. The mattress had also been taken away. Her meals are delivered not by the kind droid that had learned her name, but by a battle droid armed to the teeth.

Rey weeps that night, something she didn't think she would ever do. Not here. Not ever.

She's proved wrong.

He walks in after hours of her shivering in the cold, striding in like a giant meeting with an ant. This time nobody comes in with him. She wonders at this, but says nothing, refusing to meet his eyes.

"This could have gone so much easier, you know that, right?" he finally says after what seems like an eternity. This time there is no gentle demeanor, no calm words. He simply stands looming over her and passing judgement. Rey wants to scream.

"Look at me, girl." He demands.

Rey, against her better instincts, looks up.

"Did you really think we'd leave your garbage shuttle of a ship lying around for you to get to so easily? It's under maximum security somewhere you'll never find it." He sneers.

"Didn't you say I am of no use to you? Why not just let me go?" she asks, knowing how stupid it is, but asking it either way.

"And what? You'll just walk away and not cause any issues?" he clips, obviously thinking her crazy.

"Yes." She deadpans.

"Sorry, girl, but your promises are worth very little right now."

"Stop calling me that." She grits out.

"What? I'm sorry, speak up. I didn't hear you," he mocks, obviously having heard her just fine.

"Stop calling me 'girl'!" she screams, finally turning to look at him. The look of contempt he gives her sends an ugly shiver down her spine.

"I will call you what you are, brat. A petulant, spoiled, irritating girl." He bites back, not twitching a muscle. "And until you prove to me that you can be an adult, that's all you'll ever be."

He strides out, leaving her to stew despite the freezing temperatures. Rey sits up and curls in on herself in the corner, trying to conserve as much body heat as humanly possible.


The second time she nearly escapes she wonders if the universe is just set out to get her. A stormtrooper makes the mistake of coming too close to her door, and she forces the unsuspecting human to open it.

With a quickness she didn't know she possessed, she'd yanked the stormtrooper's blaster out of his hand and cracked it over its helmet. It fell. Did they not put any sort of padding in those things?

But she has no time to wonder about it. She hauls the stormtrooper into the room, jamming the blaster into the door to keep it from shutting entirely, and quickly strips the prone body until she's worked off his pants and shirt, leaving the helmet on; she doesn't want to know who she attacked anyway. The clothes are too big for her. Way too big. But they're clothes and blessedly warm, and she won't complain. She forgoes the stormtrooper's armor - it would swim around her and restrict her movements anyway - and wiggles her way out of her cell. The second she removes the blaster, the door slides closed all the way.

Rey rolls up the sleeves dancing around her fingers, keeping her hands free to operate the blaster.

The cells are stacked against each other, she notes, one after another in one long corridor, and she hears the muffled sounds of other people behind cell doors. Her heart squeezes. She wishes nothing more than to open those doors, but her fingerprints would immediately set off the alarms and she has to worry about herself first. She bows to some day free every one of these beings, but for now, she has to run.

Except, of course, why would anything go her way?

Just as she's about to exit the corridor and into the open clearing, a tall, broad chested redhead dressed in perfectly wrinkle-free clothing and without a hair out of place turns the corner flanked by four stormtroopers.

Everything stops.

He stops. She stops.

Her breath stops.

Her heart stops.

Time stops.

And then she's trying to run down the hall only to end up at a dead end, now crowded in by rushing stormtroopers.

Rey swears she hears a muttered curse from behind the living wall of white plastoid and helmeted heads.

"She's fucking unbelievable."


"Enough!"

The screamed command bounces against Rey's thoughts and she flinches. She's surely going to die now.

"Handcuff her."

General Hux looks like he's about to spit out fire. A stormtrooper shoves her against the wall and Rey grunts. There's a gun shoved to the back of her hair and a second pair of hands are doing quick work of ramming handcuffs around her wrists again. She winces, wondering if she's going to end up with permanent nerve damage from this.

She's forcefully turned around and she nearly snarls, except her eyes register a moment too slowly that all the plastoid-ridden bodies have moved aside and the only thing in her direct field of vision, uncomfortably close to her nose, is the face of a very angry redhead as he stoops over her much smaller body. His gloved fingers find the crook of her arm and he squeezes, eliciting a small unbidden yelp to escape her lips.

"What. Do. You. Think. You're doing?" he hisses out into her face, his breath warm against her cheek, every word seemingly more heated than the last.

"Going for a stroll," she deadpans with a shrug. Like hell would she let this guy think he can do this to her.

His eyes turn to slits and they fly back and forth between her own, too close to be able to take them in at the same time. His face is pale and tense, his lips turned down in obvious displeasure.

"Does this look like a game to you? Because I can assure you, it certainly is not a game." he hisses, and Rey notices just how pale and crystalline his blue eyes are. At this moment, they could just as easily be made of ice, if the way he was looking at her was any indication.

"No. It looks like you're keeping me here against my will, General."

He stays silent for a very long time, eyes never leaving hers. Rey holds her breath.

Then he leans back, his fingers tightly wrapped around her elbow still.

"You're all dismissed."

Rey blinks.

Every single stormtrooper snaps off a salute and turns, leaving in a neat, orderly single file. When there's no one left but them and the sound of marching footsteps is all but gone, General Hux turns to her and lets out a low, angry breath. He yanks at her elbow and tugs her along behind him.

Rey tries to dig in her heels but there's nothing for them to catch in, the stupidly shiny metal floors forcing her to glide behind as she's forcefully moved. Fine then. He can drag her the whole way to wherever they're going. She refuses to take a step, so for the next fifteen minutes or so, Rey hears the sound of stomped steps from Hux's boots, and the hissy shhhhhh of her own - the stormtrooper's boots - dragging on the ground.

Then they're stopping and Rey frowns. This does not look like another hall of cells. Not like her old cell, or her last one. This is a long dark hall, smaller than any other on the ship, with doors built into only one wall.

General Hux tugs his glove off from his right hand with his teeth, shoves it into his pocket, and places his hand on the wall. A red line of light quickly sneaks a silhouette around his long fingers, then beeps green, and the doors in front of them hiss open.

He drags her through then shoves her inside, quickly stepping in behind her to keep her from bolting. The door shuts behind him and Rey almost doesn't notice, because her eyes are trained on the spacious room.

Her first thought is that it's huge. The second one that quickly follows is that this is not a prisoner cell.

In fact, it looks anything but. If she were to see this anywhere else, she'd assume high class hotel room first, to be honest. The room is split into a large space comprising of a small kitchenette, all brushed steel and black marble, a seating area with a long, sleek grey leather couch, two seating chairs to either side the couch, and a crystal coffee table in the middle. Her eyes take note of the small detail of white lilies sitting in a crystal vase on the coffee table and she muses at the thought of a man like General Hux keeping flowers alive. Several long steps behind it there's a long table with a single chair, set against the backdrop of open space. A desk? A dining table? To one side there's a door slightly ajar and she notices a bed pristinely made, sheets of gunmetal grey and white, black night stands, white lamps. There's a second door to the left. An office? A 'fresher?

She has little time to wonder about it as her hands are yanked back and she feels something shoved into her cuffs. Then they're falling off of her and Rey turns to watch him hold them between index finger and thumb like a live snake.

"You will not do this again." He states, brooking no argument.

Then he grabs her elbow once more and Rey's about to clock him because, really, must he be so unnecessarily rough? That hurts. Except she knows by his grip that the man is strong, and a fight here with nowhere to run would not end well for her.

He drags her to the seating area and shoves her into one of the high backed chairs, taking the one opposite her with a single 'sit' as if he hadn't already forced her to.

"Why am I here?" she asks.

General Hux just watches her for a long moment, quiet as a tomb.

"Well?" she presses.

"Since you seem so eager and skilled at getting out of every single holding cell on this blasted ship, I am left with no options and am forced to keep you here," he says, spreading his arm around to show the space. "Believe me, I am not pleased."

Rey snorts, wringing her wrists.

"If I had known all it takes are two failed attempts at escape to be upgraded from the pits of hell to a plush suite, I would have done it sooner."

Hux looks like he's about to pop off a button from his perfectly pressed coat in anger.

He stands and towers over her, and Rey is really starting to get tired of him doing that.

"These are my quarters," he stands, "And I hate intruders. Your two choices are to stay here or go out that way," he says, pointing to the wide expanse of crystal clear window opening up like a maw to space.

"At which point, I will not complain," he continues. "But since I can't seem to keep you anywhere else, you'll be in the one place you can't get out. Here."

Rey tilts her head and nearly smirks. She's riled him up and for once it's his turn to huff, his turn to have his neck turn red, his turn to bark out his words in an uncontrolled rush.

"And what makes you think I can't get out of here, too?" she barbs.

At this, Hux snorts.

"You're inside a commanding officer's quarters. The only way out of here is with my hand," he says, lifting his right hand, "and I don't plan on letting you anywhere near it."

His brows raise as Rey stares a little too long at the long, dexterous fingers gracing his right hand.

"There is no way in or out of this place without my biometrics, girl. This room is as good as a fort." He emphasizes, perhaps realizing that she was already looking for ways out of here.

"If you try to escape, I will know. If you break anything, I will know. If you do anything, I will know." He adds, "You are truly my guest here, and I expect you to behave as such."

Rey looks at him.

She half suspected she'd have no way out, but the way he speaks now forces her to pay attention. All traces of anything even remotely close to composure have escaped the man, and she knows this is it. It's either play along or find her body stuffed in a body bag when she least expects it.

So Rey nods, very, very deliberately slow, until she's sure he notices.

His eyes lose a degree of the hardness they held, and he steps back.

"Good," he says, "Refresher is to the left inside the bedroom. I will have proper clothes brought in for you."

His eyes travel up and down her body in the clothes that are three times too big for her and he sneers.

"Dinner will be served at seven sharp."

And with that, he turns around, clears for exit, and stalks out the room.

Rey sags into her chair and lets out a shuddery breath.

What the hell has she gotten herself into?


Notes:

Chapter Playlist:

"Free" - by Broods

I hope you enjoy! For more updates and random posts, please follow my new tumblr blog ( username thelucidlucy ). Thoughts and comments deeply appreciated and encouraged! I want to know what you guys think.

Also, since this was cross-posted to AO3 and the story there is far ahead from this one, I will be uploading a chapter daily from now on until we catch up to the remaining chapters over at AO3. Then the chapters will start falling in their regular updating schedule of once a week (usually sunday or monday).