In the evening they sat around the fireplace. Hux stirred it with a twig, trying to think of a topic they could talk about. But everything that came to his mind was tainted: the planets he had been on, the people he had met … everything he had ever done was for the Order and in his capacity of being commanding general.
He registered that she checked her overalls, obviously keen on getting rid of his overcoat. And why wouldn't she? They were enemies after all.
He watched her using his dagger to whittle ornaments from a piece of wood. She skilfully carved flower petals and what looked like vines on it. Even at that she was perfect, he thought in awe.
Finally she had finished the carving and put the wood down, he realised that he had stared at her like a moron.
"What was the special occasion?" she asked.
His blinked at her. "What?"
"When you bought the blade."
Stupid. He shouldn't have brought it up.
Rose rolled her eyes. "Come on, we're stuck here and it's boring."
He sighed. She was right of course, it didn't matter what he told her. "Alright, if you tell me about your medallion first."
She chewed on her lower lip, then she said: "My sister made it. She kept one half and gave the other to me."
"And why didn't you want to talk about it?" he asked.
"Because she's dead," she said calmly. "She was the pilot who destroyed your dreadnaught."
Hux tensed up, memories of how Snoke had thrown him around like a rag doll resurfaced before his inner eye. He remembered the shame and humiliation as well.
"Your turn," she said.
He clenched his fist. He wanted to lash out, to show her that he wasn't some laughing stock, some … some weak-willed pushover. "I bought it after my father was killed," he said coldly. There was no doubt in his mind that she would ask how he died, he thought grimly. Then she would see that he was cunning and strong.
"Oh … so was he killed during a battle?"
He leaned forward and said slowly: "I orchestrated his death." Then he leaned back again and said casually: "I bought the knife to commemorate the occasion."
It was oddly satisfying to see the look of respect on her face. Only moments later, he realised that is wasn't respect he saw, only fear.
"You killed your own father?"
"He got what he deserved." He had pictured that it would please him, the way she stared at him after confessing what he had done. But seeing her wrapping the large coat closer around her as if she was cold didn't feel good, it didn't even feel satisfying.
It didn't matter, he had to drive the point home – show her who he really was. "It really bothers you, doesn't it?"
"He was your father."
He wiped across his face. "If you'd known him you would understand." He paused. Images of Brendol brushing over the waitresses' wrist resurfaced. "Or perhaps you do understand – I'm told I'm the spitting image of him. A cold, merciless sadist."
The expression of disgust that crossed her features gave him a lump in his stomach.
"And here I thought you delude yourself about bringing the galaxy order and stability, but you actually admit that you're evil."
He tried to laugh, to shrug off the uncomfortable sensation in his guts. She had to know, he wasn't sure why it was important the she knew … but she had to know. "Evil is a relative term is it not? But I know what I am – I blew up an entire system, killed billions. Men, women and children. Don't tell me that you wouldn't kill me if given the chance."
"Would it make them alive again?"
He blinked. "What?"
There was a stern expression on her face he hadn't seen before. "Would it make them alive again? All those people?"
He stared at her wide-eyed. "Of course not!"
"Well, then what is the point of killing you? You're just one of the many murderers in the First Order. Most of them haven't killed billions, but they still pull the trigger, push the buttons." She looked him straight in the eye. "A cog in the machine. I want to stop the whole damn machine not just dispatch of some of the cogs."
"I'm not a cog! I'm the head of the military!" he hissed. He wasn't some weak-
"And who is in charge now that you're stuck here?" she asked.
That gave him pause. "General Nuresh is my second in command. She-"
"- is going to replace you if you don't make it back to the Order."
This is how she saw him? Some pitiful gnat? A cog in a machine?
"Of course she will," he said quickly. "The First Order doesn't have to rely on my talents alone."
"A cog in the machine like I said."
He grimaced. "Should I ever be put on trial I have to remember that one. Though I hardly believe that anyone would be dense enough to actually believe it."
Rose leaned back. "I never said that you're not guilty, I just said that I wouldn't kill you. There is a difference. I really do hope they put you on trial for the whole galaxy to see that there is still justice."
"Justice?" he chuckled. "You really think something like justice exists?"
"Mock me all you like, but I still believe that there is hope for justice. That's why we're fighting despite the odds."
He remained silent for a moment before replying. "Idealism will only get you so far. In the end it's a question of power pure and simple. I got where I am today because I did what I had to do, not because of" he scoffed, "hope or idealism. There will always be the powerful and the powerless, anything else is ornamentation."
She looked at him with a frown. "If that is what you truly believe – suit yourself. I think there is more to the galaxy, much more."
Hux watched how she picked up a new branch and started to carve ornaments in it. He ached to contradict her, tell her how naïve she was for believing that the galaxy was more than a cold place. But honestly … there was no point. He wouldn't convince her just as much as she wouldn't convince him.
There was a reason why she was with the resistance and he was with the Order. For all his faults he wasn't ignorant about the ideology they both had inherited and built up during their lives. His father had thought that the rebels were dim-witted cowards who were too feeble to do what was necessary. But he knew better, that someone who believed in a cause even though it had its faults wasn't a coward. They were brave – naïve perhaps and misguided, but brave.
Only a fool underestimated his enemies … and he had been a fool up until a single x-wing had crippled a destroyer. Hux wouldn't repeat that mistake, that's why he had insisted that Ren should press the attack on Crait … yes, the rebels were weakened but they were still dangerous.
He watched Tico whittle the branch. She was the best proof of the resistance's capabilities.
ooOOoo
When they settled for the night on the only dry patch in their shelter he could see the back of her neck. There was a spot that wasn't covered by her pony-tail and he found himself mesmerised by it. It was quite dark in the shelter, but her skin was a stark contrast to her black hair.
For a moment he imagined how it would feel to touch her soft skin, caress her neck … embarrassed, he forced himself to think about something else. It was inappropriate and wrong.
His thoughts returned to their earlier conversation and he thought about Crait and the rebels' struggle against the overwhelming force. After a while he fell asleep.
He was on Crait. The white salt crunched under his boots. Hux turned to look around, but he was alone. He squinted and tried to find a landmark he could identify, but there was nothing. Only the white salt desert.
After a while he started to walk in one direction, leaving blood-red footsteps in his wake. Soon he saw a simple house at the horizon. Suddenly he stood in front of it, and he recognized it: It was the house he and his father had stayed in on Jakku.
He knew that he was late for dinner, so he quickly entered and tried to brush the sand off his clothes. But a meaty hand grabbed him by the neck and forced him to look up. His father was standing in front of him, hair gelled back, broad shoulders and a smirk on his lips.
"Thought you were rid of me?" he asked in a loud voice.
"No sir," Hux dutifully replied, shaking in fear.
"Stupid boy, I'll teach you!"
Hux struggled to get free but his father's fingers closed around his throat and started to choke him. Anger and panic took hold of him and he let his hidden dagger slide into his hand and started to stab the man in front of him until his face was nothing but a bloody mess.
Hux jerked up and felt his heart hammer against his chest. Then he lowered his gaze and saw that Tico was looking at him. "Are you alright?"
The question sounded so genuine that he gulped. "Of course, I- just- it's nothing."
"Okay," she said quietly and turned away.
He waited for a few moments for his ragged breath to calm down and lay down again. He could feel her warmth and looked at her neck again. She probably hadn't meant it … asking him how he was doing. She was disgusted by him, that much was clear … But what if she did care? What if she was actually interested to hear what he had to say?
"I don't usually dream," he said before he could stop himself.
"All humans dream, we just don't usually remember," she said.
He licked his lips. "I know, what I meant was- I'm not in the habit-" he broke off.
She shifted a little "You mean to tell me that you don't have nightmares? After all you've done?"
He knew that he shouldn't respond. Shouldn't even think about it. "I used to have nightmares. They stopped after I bought the blade."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Your father?"
He shouldn't. "He killed my mother and made me watch."
"Why?"
"She was kind and weak – she actually loved him I think. Despite everything he did … she didn't understand that he didn't deserve it." He gulped. "She wanted me to stay with her, but he wanted make a soldier out of me. So he got rid of her."
She remained silent, but he couldn't stop, not now.
"She screamed. She shouldn't have screamed – he hated that. He hit her but she didn't stop begging and crying and screaming. So he grabbed her by the throat until she stopped moving. 'She spoiled you' he said, 'you are soft and weak-willed. But it's not too late, boy, I'll teach you and I'll teach you well'. And he did, he taught me everything until the day he died."
She was looking at him. There was no scorn in her eyes. He had been weak but she didn't mock him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. "Don't be, as I said – he got what he deserved."
Suddenly she scooted closer and put her hand on his upper arm, then slowly she pulled him into a hug. He gasped in surprise and felt a little dizzy. Slowly, very slowly he reached out and returned the hug.
As suddenly as she had embraced him, she let go of him and turned briskly around. He was stunned and for a moment he thought that he had imagined everything, but he still felt the warmth of her arm on his arm, had her scent in his nose.