When Stars Collide
Chapter 11: Blaster Lessons
She's so far away.
Why can't he get closer to her?
She beckons him, "Come along Armie dear."
He swallows. He tries to take a step forward. "I can't Mum. I'm stuck."
His voice sounds so unlike himself. Far too young. Far too childlike.
"Don't be silly darling," she gives him that smile. The one that made him feel like he could do anything. "You've got this. Come along."
He focuses on the sound of her voice. On the knowledge that once he grasps her hand he'll be safe. He'll be whole.
It's only an inch at first, but it's something at least. He takes a step, then another. He's so close to her. So close.
And then the crippling doubt starts to sink back in.
It's his fault she's gone. It's always been his fault. Everything that happened to her.
Rey is surprised to find that she wakes before Hux today, an unusual occurrence. And she realizes she forgot to lock the cuffs around them last night. Foolish. He could've been searching for the comm, he could've hurt her. Though she doubts he would. And she hopes that he's starting to trust her a bit. Hopefully, he realizes she doesn't want to simply turn him over to the Resistance just to have him killed.
She gets out of bed without waking him and sets to making their breakfast as quietly as she can. She'll let him sleep for as long as she can. They have to hike to get water again today, and then hopefully he will be up for teaching her some things about a blaster. She didn't receive much instruction on blaster use when she was with the Resistance. Though Poe had offered her help and Finn too, but she'd been caught up in repairing x-wings and hadn't had time to learn. Or rather, hadn't made it a priority to learn.
She hopes Hux is a good teacher. But, she can't deny she's slightly excited at the prospect of having him show her a thing or two regardless.
Plus after seeing how he'd handled himself with the beast yesterday, she knows he's a good shot, and she'd be lucky to have him instruct her. But she's unsure why the prospect of him teaching her is so much more appealing than Finn or Poe.
He hears her rise, his eyes still closed in mock sleep. He waits for her to leave the bedroom before he silently rises and pads over to her bag. He's laid awake most of the night, thanks to their awkward mid-sleep encounter. And he's had plenty of time to decide on his next move.
In the haze of brandy and sleep, he had made a terrible error. He'd allowed himself to cave into her and to his growing attraction. This burgeoning want that was starting to fill his head. He needed to ground himself, get back on track. She was muddling his mind with her Jedi tricks. And he couldn't let her pull his focus away from his mission.
Kneeling down in front of her bag he opens it cautiously. He can hear her banging around the kitchenette.
Does she expect him to sleep through that racket?
With urgency, he begins pulling items out of her bag, clothing, the pieces of the lightsaber, her rations, medkit, and hair bands. Stars, how many things are in there?
He rifles through the things piling them up outside the bag. It's a ridiculous mess of items that make no sense. There are colorful rocks, pieces of carved wood, power pack replacements for her blaster, and pieces he's sure belong to the lightsaber she intends to build once she finds another kyber crystal. She seems to have collected trinkets from all over the galaxy and stored them in her bag. Everything just jumbled together in a completely disorganized fashion. It makes his face contort with annoyance.
He spots her torn tunic as well. Why would she keep that? She really ought to just buy some new clothes.
His brows furrow, of course, she wouldn't have hidden the comm in here. But maker she has so much trash in her bag it must weigh a ton. He pulls out a set of old books. Real books. Paper ones. These must be the Jedi texts she was telling him about. He itches to open them, to feel the crisp paper under his fingers. But he has to make entirely sure that the comm isn't in here. He sets the books aside, even though he's longing to take his time and thumb through them.
When the bag is mostly empty, he's sorely disappointed. The comm doesn't appear to be in there. Where else could she have hidden it? He begins to cram the items back in as fast as he can. Surely, she won't notice that he had rifled through it? There was definitely no rhyme or reason to the way she'd stored her things. How could she find anything in there anyway?
His hand brushes against an inside pocket and hits something solid. He glances about listening for her and then unsnaps the fastenings of the pocket and finds a small single power pack. It must belong to the comm. She's been smart and separated the comm from the power supply. A wise move indeed. He's momentarily smirking in approval. She's quite the clever little vixen.
At that he shakes his head, he needs to focus. He begins tossing the rest of the items back into the bag, but he pockets the power-pack.
Finishing as quickly as he can, he rises and flips the bag closed, then makes his way to the kitchenette.
Startled by his sudden appearance, she nearly jumps when he greets her as he enters the small space of the kitchen. He looks awful like he barely slept last night. His face is showing thick stubble, and his hair hangs over each side of his face. But it's the bags under his eyes that make him look exhausted. She assesses his head wound for a moment before dropping her gaze to his eyes.
His face and ears redden as soon as they make eye contact and she has the strong urge to roll her eyes and tell him to grow up. After all, he's older. Isn't he? He ought to be well versed in these sorts of things. More so than her anyway. He ought to be the one who accepts things for what they are.
Glancing away from her, he seats himself at the table. He's eyeing the bottle of brandy like he's thinking about having it for breakfast.
She doesn't say anything, but she brings him tea and some porridge in one of the bowls she's found.
He takes a sip of the tea almost immediately, and he's stunned by how it tastes. It's perfect. Exactly the way he likes it. She paid attention. That makes him uneasy.
"Thank you," He says stupidly.
The porridge is good too, and he tries to eat it slowly. Though he's starving, and he can't account for always being so hungry suddenly. But he assumes his body just needs fuel to heal so perhaps that explains his constant hunger.
They eat their meal in almost companionable silence. But Rey notices that every time she tries to meet his eyes, he looks away. Ashamed of last night it seems.
"What happened last night," she starts.
He gives her a silencing glare, "absolutely not. We are not going to talk about that."
"But you ought to just—" She begins.
"Oh no," he says shaking his head. "I told you I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine," she says suddenly angry. "Don't talk about it. Just be a child."
That makes his temper flare, and he gives her a scowl, "it's not childish to have some sort of sense of propriety."
She raises her brows, "oh, you think I don't have any?"
"Well, you were raised on a trash heap," he counters.
He can see that the words sting, and he feels guilty immediately. But he won't apologize. This is her fault after all. Why can't she just leave it be?
She sets her jaw for a moment looking down. Then her eyes snap back to him, and she retorts, "well, we couldn't all be so lucky as to be raised by wealthy parents who provided us with every luxury."
He's fairly certain he hears her mutter the word spoiled under her breath.
"Who says my parents were wealthy and I was afforded every luxury?" He bites back.
"Just look at you," she replies, gesturing to him. "You would normally look all posh, but here you are having to suffer through this, and you're obviously miserable."
He snorts. "Taking care of my appearance is hardly posh. I just don't like dirty things."
Like you.
He doesn't say it. But that's what she hears.
She looks like she might cry or hit him. He's not sure which would be worse.
"Well, I'm sure if I had been able to choose I would've chosen parents more like yours," she retorts. "Parents that didn't just toss dirty things like me aside."
He winces and sets the spoon back down in his bowl. His face is burning even more now, and he can feel his ears throb as well. He looks down at the porridge. He's completely lost his appetite.
"Let's get going," He says tiredly.
They ready themselves for their hike in painful silence. Rey can tell that something she said had struck a particularly tender nerve. He seems deep in thought as he straps on his blaster and pulls on his boots.
As soon as he's done, he grabs the empty buckets, hauling them up over his shoulder. Then he heads out the door without a glance in her direction.
She follows him, staff in hand and her mind whirring, trying to fit the pieces of this puzzle together.
Why would he be so upset about what she said? He'd obviously been such a spoiled rich—she stops. She'd entirely forgotten about his scars. Oh, maker, his parents had abused him and she'd just— she'd suggested that it wasn't that bad and that he'd been spoiled.
Was it worse to have been tossed aside by your parents or to have them hurt you physically? Maybe she shouldn't have assumed so much. She had thought she was well past all this bias towards people, apparently not. He'd been through things, that was apparent. Stars, she needs to think before she speaks.
She resolves to apologize to him when she can. He didn't deserve that. He might've insulted her, but she couldn't very well sit with the idea that she'd judged him so harshly without considering what he might have suffered.
The hike to the water is uneventful. Hux doesn't stop once they arrive at the creek. He fills the buckets on his own as well, even though it must cause his side to ache horribly.
Once the buckets are filled to the brim, he sets them down and marches down the river, leaving Rey to stand alone on the rock.
She follows him down towards the river till he stops at a calm area of the water. Though it still rushes by it is more of a trickle than a heavy current. His back is to her, and she watches as he picks up a small stone and chucks it into the water.
The stone hits with a plop and sinks. Hux picks up another and heaves it in.
"Look," Rey says as she comes to stand next to him. "I'm really sorry about what I said. I forgot—."
He turns to look at her over his shoulder, "you forgot that my father whipped me? That he used to put cigarettes out on my bare skin?"
Rey sucks in a breath, "I forgot, and that wasn't right—."
He cuts her off with a harsh laugh, then he turns and throws another stone into the water. "My father used to hit me, beat me, and then told me it was so I could learn how to be stronger because I was so weak. You think I lived in luxury? All my father and Maratelle ever gave me were bruises and cold indifference."
Licking her lips, Rey asks suddenly, "Maratelle?"
"My father's wife," he hisses.
"Not your mother?"
He shakes his head, then stoops and picks up another stone and tosses it half-heartedly at the water.
"What about your mother?" Rey asks curiously.
Hux stills.
Deflect. Change the subject. Find something else to talk about.
"What about your mother?" Rey asks again. "Hux?"
"Armitage," he says suddenly. Then curses. That wasn't what he'd intended to say.
"What?"
"My given name is Armitage," he says miserably.
"Armitage?" She says the name softly. How she says it makes his chest feel tight.
"Can I call you Armitage?" She asks kindly.
"Absolutely not," he replies as he kneels down on the rocks and sifts through the stones, looking for something small and flat.
"That's a nice name," she says sweetly. "What can't I use it?"
"No one does," he says sourly. "Everyone knows me as Hux, and that's what you'll call me."
"Then why did you—?" She begins.
"Never mind," he says changing the subject again. "Let's get going. If you want me to actually teach you anything about blasters today, we ought to be on our way."
They hike back to the ship together. Though they don't speak. Rey carries the water buckets with her staff and uses the Force to keep them from spilling.
Hux can't help it, but his mind lingers on the night before. On how he'd been so close to giving in to her. How she'd felt against him. Like she fit so perfectly with him, molded into him. It was a divine feeling. One he hadn't ever really known, at least not coupled with the want that was beginning to blind him now. Perhaps she's right, and all he needs is to just take care of it in the fresher. She doesn't need to know. But perhaps it might help him focus, be less distracted by her.
When they arrive back at the ship Hux takes the job of dumping the water into the ship's reservoir tank while Rey double checks the ship diagnostic. She's happy to find that it finally has an estimated time of completion which would be in six hours. Then she can finally know the extent of the damage and the probability of this vehicle ever flying again.
After Rey has finished her task, she heads outside to meet Hux. She surveys the trees thoughtfully, glancing at the dirt where they buried the body. She'd gone back while Hux was sleeping a few days ago and finished the job of burying it. Judging from the where the sun sits it might be best to have their lessons in a shaded spot, so she finds one and sits down to wait.
Hux finally comes around the side of the ship where he was dumping water, and he already has the blaster in one hand. His mono-molecular blade dagger sits in the other. He sees Rey but doesn't head toward her. Instead, he walks over to one of the trees, and she watches as he uses the knife to peel the bark back from several of the tree trunks.
It takes her a moment to figure out exactly what he's doing, but then she realizes. He's making targets for her.
Once he's finished his work, he stalks back over to her. He looks beyond annoyed to be spending his time this way, and she can't help but feel hurt by the look of irritation evident on his sharp features. He returns the blade dagger to his sleeve and then holds his blaster up and begins to fiddle with it.
"What're you doing?" She asks curiously.
"Resetting the trigger," he says simply.
"Why?"
"It's set to my fingerprints only," he replies, pressing and turning parts of the weapon she can't see.
"So, I wouldn't have been able to use it anyway?"
He nods his head but doesn't say anything.
"Why don't I just use my blaster?" She asks.
"Yours is terrible," he says matter-a-factly.
"Oh," she settles into the grass and watches him. His hair hangs over his face, swinging back and forth in the breeze.
"Alright," he says finally, handing her the blaster. "Show me the stance you take when you shoot."
"Why don't you just tell me how to stand?" She says flatly.
"I want to see what you already know," he replies with frustration.
She stands and stretches out her right arm, closing one eye she fingers the trigger of his blaster and aims it at the middle tree where he carved the target. She hears him snort.
"You've watched too many holovids," he says with a groan.
"What's wrong with how I stand?" She asks, confused.
"Why don't I start at the beginning?" He asks. "There are eight fundamentals of marksmanship. First is stance and second is body position. Square your shoulders toward your target, dominant foot out."
He watches her move in the way he's instructed. At least she can follow directions, he grumbles. He wonders mildly if she's going to use this information on him someday. If she's going to use it against him. Is he just giving her tools for his own destruction?
"Third is grip," he says. "Hold it like you were but place your other hand under the other and finger off the trigger for god's sake."
She wraps one hand around the grip and the other over it.
"Not like that," he shakes his head. "Here, I'll show you."
He comes to stand behind her, taking her hand he moves it under the bottom of the grip. She notices he's put his gloves back on.
"Alright, now fourth is sight picture," he says thoughtfully. "Keep both eyes open always. You lose depth perception if you close one. Then the fifth is sight alignment. You have to make sure that the sights line up."
He cocks his head to the side and studies her posture, eyes dipping down and then back up. He's still standing very close to her though he let go of her hand after he positioned her.
"Sixth is trigger squeeze," he says softly. "You want just the tip of your finger over the trigger. Pull it slowly and evenly. Not in a jerking motion. Then seventh is follow through. You don't release the trigger immediately after firing, you allow the trigger mechanism to reset."
She tests her grip and trigger pressure slightly. Aiming at the target, she takes stock of it.
"When you're ready," he says nodding.
She keeps both eyes open and focuses on the sight alignment. Beginning to pull the trigger slowly she has the sudden feeling of the tug of that cord.
Shit. No. Why now? Can she just have one day of peace?
The cord snaps, the feel vibrating through her. Then Ben is there. He's facing her, but he's several feet away. Standing directly in front of her target.
She shakes her head for a moment. Actually, this might be perfect. She's still furious with him. So, she shoots. She can't hurt him like this anyway.
But he still jumps at the sensation. The blaster bolt flying through him toward the target. Ben looks down at his chest and then back up at her with a wild glare.
"You shot me," he says disbelievingly. "Again. I thought we were past that."
She can't help but give him a little smirk.
"Well, you missed the center of the target. What exactly were you aiming for?"
Hux's voice jolts her. She'd almost forgotten he was there.
"Sorry," she chirps. "I'll try again."
She picks up the blaster and aims it at Ben again. He sets his jaw and stalks toward her as she fires again.
"This isn't a game Rey," Ben growls.
"I thought you said there were eight fundamentals," she says, turning back to Hux. "What is the last one?"
Hux gives her a wary smile. He can sense that something is wrong. He isn't sure what, but her face went from focused and determined to irate in a mere two seconds and then she'd fired at the tree with what looked like murderous intent.
"Eight is recovery," he says slowly. "Basically, it's preparing to fire again. You go through each step quickly in your mind to make sure you're ready."
"Perfect," she says beaming at him. "You're a wonderful teacher."
Is she trying to flirt with him?
He wants to help get her back into position again, maybe just to touch her. But she's shifted when she started talking to him, so he uses his hands to position her the right way again. One hand steadying her arm while the other holds her hip as he moves her back into the correct stance. He doesn't let go.
Ben is almost to them, he's shaking with barely restrained fury. Hands clenching and unclenching with each step he takes.
"It's him again isn't it?" He says, voice trembling with rage. "You're with him again."
Rey glares at him. She wants to respond. To tell him to go away. But Hux is there, standing so close to her. His hand tightening on her hip, moving her closer to him.
She aims at the tree again and fires, the blaster bolt shooting through the side of Ben's face. He goes still.
"Good shot!" Hux exclaims. The fingers on her hip tighten a fraction. "Much better."
She's beaming at the praise and glances up at Hux with a dimpled smile.
Hux's breath hitches as he takes in the smile on her face. Her white teeth and sparkling eyes. Those dimples. Being around her is intoxicating. And she's not pulling away from his touch.
His eyes dip down to her mouth. Her pink lips are just begging to be kissed. Very slowly he begins to tilt his head down toward her, but then he realizes she's snapped her head back up and is staring at the target intently.
Ben strides over to her, hands in leather clenched fists as he walks around her predatorily.
"I'm done with this game Rey," he says through clenched teeth. "I can see you looking at him like that."
She almost says something, almost responds to him. But she thinks better of it at the last moment.
With slow, steady movements, Ben begins to remove one glove. Rey takes a step back, bumping against Hux.
The grip on her hip releases as Hux frowns. "Rey? Are you alright?"
She doesn't respond. She takes small measured steps backwards, keeping herself between Hux and Ben. With his glove removed, Ben looks back up at her, dark eyes glistening.
"Last chance to just tell me," he warns.
She can't help shaking her head, or the involuntary jerk of her hand raising to point the blaster at Ben again. He ignores it and crosses the distance in four long strides, hand outstretched toward her.
Rey leaps back with full force and knocks Hux to the ground as she dodges Ben's ungloved hand.
"The hell?!" Hux curses from the ground as Rey lands directly on his lap. She's frantic as she leans away from Ben, hoping to get out of his reach. She can't let him see Hux. It will ruin everything.
But then Ben stops, eyes narrowed as he studies her on the ground. She's still pointing the blaster at him.
He cocks his head to the side, "I know that blaster. . . Where do I know it from?"
The cord snaps again. And then he's gone, and Rey heaves out a shaky breath. She's trembling.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This was not good.
"Get off of me," Hux says, making no move to push her off. "The hell is wrong with you?!"
She pulls herself off him and turns, stretching out her hand to help him up. He ignores it and rises from the ground on his own.
"Why did you do that?" He growls angrily.
The way she shakes confuses him. She just began acting crazy and then knocks him to the ground. What in the world was that? A fit of madness? Was it because he'd almost kissed her?
Stars, he'd been about to. He'd even started to pull her against him.
"I thought I felt something," she lies. "Through the Force. I thought I felt something in the trees. Another of those huge black beasts."
Though it's a lie, it isn't entirely untruthful.
He scowls at her, "Well if you can behave like a civilized person we can continue."
He's sure that the wisest choice would be to call it a day and end blaster lessons right here, but he's so angry with her. And now that his clothing is covered in pine needles and sap, he wants to make her suffer.
So, he drills her, over and over. Making her repeat the eight fundamentals while she practices shooting again. He does it until she's out of breath and sweat is dripping down the side of her face.
Only then he's satisfied, that she can both name all of the fundamentals quickly and without thinking but that she's also improved her shot. She's hit the target four out of every five shots, and although she needs to work on her aim a bit, it's quite the improvement from earlier. It's decent, he supposes.
And of course, it isn't like he likes seeing her like this, sweaty and panting. No, he just wants to make sure that she knows what she's doing with a blaster. Though her blaster really isn't terrible, he just enjoyed the idea of watching her handle his.
"Well done," He praises. He does like how fierce she looks when she shoots, she pinches her face in a way that looks very comical, and he tries to stifle his laughter.
She beams another smile at him, and he feels his throat go dry.
"I think that's enough for today," he says slowly. He brushes some pine needles off his uniform.
"Thank you so much," she says.
Then, without thinking, she stands on tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek. The skin of his face is rough with stubble, but she can feel how he burns.
He clears his throat, "that wasn't necessary."
"You're an excellent teacher," she says pulling away from his face. "Thank you for teaching me."
"Yes, well," he says softly. "I-I'm happy I could be of service."
She hands him the blaster back, and he takes it carefully.
"Hungry?" She asks cheerfully.
"And thirsty," he says wretchedly as they make their way back to the ship.
She insists that she cook dinner for him, another small thank you for his instruction. It makes him feel guilty as he heads to the hygiene room. Especially guilty because he knows what he intends to do there.
Though he supposes it's one way she can thank him without even realizing it.
He studies his face in the mirror of the hygiene room. He looks terrible. Hair falling all over the place, the rough beginning of a beard and a red sunburn. He tries to brush his hair back into place. It doesn't comply.
That's it, he's shaving tomorrow no matter what. He can't stand how old he looks. It reminds him that he's her senior by over ten years, fifteen perhaps?
Maybe he'll look better clean shaven, younger, more appropriate for her. He rests his palms against the counter and stares into the mirror. Why does he want to look more her age, younger?
Stars, he's nearing middle-age, and she's not even . . . He closes his eyes.
When he opens them, he's resolved. He's much too old for her. He adds it to the growing list of reasons he can't be attracted to her. And the even longer list of reasons he wouldn't appeal to her. He turns the fresher on and waits a moment for the water to heat.
He's hard long before he even steps into the fresher. Being so close to her all day has made thinking nearly impossible.
He uses the soap to make his hand slick as he pumps his shaft. The pleasure flooding through him from his core and out. His brain fuzzy and delirious with want.
Using his left hand to brace himself against the wall he jerks with his right. Closing his eyes, he tries to imagine her. How she looked in his dream. Wrapped in that small white... thing. Was it a dress? A robe? Doesn't really matter. Whatever it was, it was more than he wishes she'd wear.
He groans out loud at the divine feel, how he wishes it was her hand. Oh, or her mouth? The idea of her warm wet lips around his cock makes him spasm. He almost comes. But he wants to make this last for as long as he can. And this is it. The last time he'll do this and think of her.
Stars, it's better than he remembers. He imagines her, laid out for him, on the bed or perhaps the table? Oh, no he'd like to see her on his desk in his office aboard the Finalizer. Something about the idea of having her right under Ren's nose makes it all the more thrilling. He'd like her naked mostly but wrapped in that long stretch of fabric she always wears. And how he'd like to rip it from her, strip her of it. Finally, see those breasts and those legs and what lies between them.
He imagines what her skin might feel like against his and then her lips. Imagines her beneath him, moaning his name.
Not Hux no. He'd like to hear her say Armitage again in that soft angelic voice while he thrusts. Maybe even General. Hearing her mewling while she rides him, calling him General, that's what does it. That's what sends him over the edge.
He curses under his breath when he comes, his spend painting the fresher wall. Her name follows the curse, breaking past his lips before he can stop it. It's a whispered plea, an invocation.