Offspring
"You have brought your offspring onboard?" If there was anything stranger than the idea of Hux having children, it was actually running into three small copies of the general, walking in a row behind Hux and a regal-looking woman in a flowing shimmersilk gown that shaded from electric blue to purple to magenta as she moved down the corridor.
The general nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "They have been asking to see the ship and, as we are unavoidably delayed here, I agreed. It is not against regulations. Unlike, say, keeping a prisoner in one's private quarters." Hux sniped, his face tensing in preparation for yet another verbal sparring match. "So if you have a problem, Ren…"
The woman placed a thin, pale hand on Hux's arm and cleared her throat. His face changed from sneering to proper. "Right. Well. May I present my wife, Cressa Sindian Hux. Cressa, this is my…co-worker, Kylo Ren, and his apprentice."
Apprentice. It was wholly inadequate. Rey was so much more than that, so much more herself and so much more to him. He noticed her taking in Cressa's gown, her eyes hungry. He could feel her fingers itching to touch the vibrant, sheer material, and vowed to get her one like it. No, better. Finer. The Sindians might be an old, noble family (he knew, of course, who they were; it was a strange but common experience that he knew far more about people than they did about him) but as far as he was concerned Rey was queen of the universe. He only had to make her realize it.
The queen of the universe, meanwhile, had crouched down to talk to the small Huxes, who were trying to stand straight and solemn, in a fidgety imitation of military attention. The smallest was half-hiding behind his mother's opalescent skirts.
"Hi. I'm Rey. What are your names?"
The middle one, a sturdy boy with ruddy cheeks, spoke first. "I'm Wilhuff. I'm named for a famous general that got blowed up on the Death Star. Mother says I'm obstreperous. I think that means rowdy." He said this last bit in a loud whisper.
"Oh. Well, nice to meet you," Rey said.
The oldest boy, taller, thinner, more willowy, held out a hand for a proper handshake. "I'm Maximilian. I'm named for a general too only mine didn't get blown up. And this is Melowyn. He's not named for a general. He's just two. So he doesn't talk a lot yet."
"Nice to meet you, too." Rey grinned at Hux. "They look just like you!"
He smiled, radiating pride.
Kylo coughed. "We should go. We have much work to do." And this entire interaction is making my brain itch.
She looked up at him, her eyes shining, her face glowing. "Oh, but Kylo, look at them! They're adorable!" Her voice was wistful, and Kylo felt that need emanating from her again. It did things to him. Made him want things he had never wanted before, made him feel all warm and pliable.
The boys squirmed, edging closer to Rey. The oldest whispered something to the middle one. The youngest, still a toddler, stuffed a chubby thumb in his mouth and stared at Kylo's mask with large eyes. The middle one reached out, tugged at Rey's sleeve.
She leaned in to see what the child wanted. He whispered something to her. She smiled. "Maybe. We'll have to ask your parents." She looked at Hux. "He wants to know if I know anywhere they can play? I could take them to the training room? It's padded and soundproof and safe and, well, I'd love to play with them. I haven't been around little ones since I left Jakku. I used to help some of the small ones there, showed them how to scavenge a little, shared my portions if I could…"
"May we go, Father?" Maximilian asked. The boys turned three sets of hopeful blue eyes toward their father.
Hux shifted from foot to foot. "I'm not really comfortable…"
Cressa leaned over, whispered something to him.
"Yes, but…"
She raised an elegant, highly-arched eyebrow. "Armitage."
Hux inhaled, nostrils flaring, and stiffened.
Armitage? His name was Armitage? Kylo Ren smirked under his mask. Oh, he would enjoy tormenting the general with that in the future.
Cressa and Hux seemed to be engaged in some sort of highly civilized, nearly-silent argument, carried out mostly through raised eyebrows and twitching lips. Finally, she spoke. "Armi. This lovely young woman, who clearly adores the children, has made a kind and generous offer."
Kylo Ren barely managed to contain a snort of laughter. Armi?
Hux leaned in, whispered something to her.
Cressa pursed her lips and let out an exasperated sigh. "I do not care about her…religion. I have not had a single moment to myself, away from these boys, for three lunar cycles, and for the most part, I love that, but today? Maxi and Wil have been bickering nonstop and having a contest to see who can spit the farthest, and Mel refuses to eat anything that he has to chew, and he still isn't sleeping through the night. If Luke Skywalker himself showed up and offered to babysit, I'd tell him where to find the juice pouches and accept with a happy heart and a clear conscience. Besides, I have missed your company."
"But…"
She fixed him with an icy gaze.
The general turned back to Rey, who was kneeling on the floor with the three little Huxes gathered around watching with wide eyes as she levitated the toy TIE fighter Wilhuff had brought with him.
"Apprentice?"
"Yes?"
"If you are still offering to - play – with my children, I accept. I will collect them in precisely two hours."
She grinned, then turned to the boys. "Come on. I'll show you our training room. It has a squishy floor and walls and you can run and jump and yell all you want to in there." She jumped up, leading them down the corridor like a row of ginger ducklings. Kylo couldn't help smiling; she was as excited as the little boys, and it was delectable.
"Can you make me fly, like the TIE fighter?" Wilhuff asked, pointing at his toy.
Rey nodded. "Uh-huh."
"Wait!" Hux shouted. "No levitating my children!"
"Oh, Armi, relax." Cressa said. "She clearly knows what she's doing. I mean, if she can handle him, she can certainly handle them."
It took Kylo a few beats to realize who she meant by him.
"Now. Show me to your quarters. We've wasted three minutes of our alone time already."
"Yes, dear," Hux said.
"Well?" Rey called over her shoulder to Kylo. "Are you coming or are you going to stand there like a statue?"
Hux looked at Kylo and a strange understanding connected the two men for a moment.
They had been playing a strange game of Force-freeze-tag; Rey's invention. Kylo had allowed himself to be sucked in, unable to resist her glowing enthusiasm. When one of the boys was 'caught', Kylo, leaning against a wall and not joining the rough-housing, 'froze' him, and Rey had to 'unfreeze' him. Then it was that boy's turn to be 'it' and tag the others so they could be frozen. When the two hours were up, Rey and the little boys were sweaty and pink-cheeked and giggling. The mini-Huxes were clearly enamored with Rey, and, Kylo thought, who could blame them? He had loved her since the first moment he had seen her; why would these small boys be any different? They hugged her before they left, and then to Kylo Ren's great shock, the smallest one walked over to him and wrapped his tiny, soft little arms around his knees and hugged him too, giving his leg a little pat before scurrying off to hide behind his mother's skirts. Kylo, maskless in the confines of the training room, just stood there, frozen, blinking. He wasn't sure he had ever been hugged by a child in his life.
It was a strangely sweet, cozy sensation.
After Hux picked up his small duplicates, it was time to focus again. Rey and Kylo spent the day working on defensive powers, ways to protect oneself against attacks by others. It had been a long day and they had not taken any real breaks, just stopping to drink water and eat rations in the training room. The hours had flown by, the day was long since over, and there was so much more to do.
"Do you think…do you think we'll need all this?" Rey asked, as she struggled to stave off a Force Stun for the fifth time. Her voice was small and quivery.
Kylo wasn't sure how the audience would go; he only had his own previous encounters with his master to go on. "I don't know. I just want you to be as prepared as possible. If there's one constant with the Supreme Leader, it's that he's unpredictable. It's one way he keeps the upper hand; keeping his underlings disoriented and confused, never sure what's coming next…" he trailed off, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes going a little unfocused.
Rey laid a hand on his arm, stepped in front of him so she was looking into his eyes. Steadied him; brought him back to the present.
She sighed. "Kylo?"
"Hmm?"
"How…how did Snoke try to teach you Force Lightning? You wouldn't tell me before but…I think we need to consider every possibility."
He laughed, but without humor. "That won't help us."
"Why?"
"Rey. It's late." Kylo looked at the chrono on the wall. "Past midnight. We should go. Eat. Rest."
"Tell me. Please."
He was silent, his posture rigid. "I'll tell you. But only after you eat something."
She nodded. "Okay."
The Officer's Club was empty; military efficiency and late-night revelry didn't mix, so the club closed early every night except the last night off the week. Rey looked around. It was decorated in shades of black and gray with red accents, like the rest of the ship, but the soft lighting, plush, exotic rugs and deep carmine curtains warmed the space, made it less sterile.
Kylo walked behind the bar, into the kitchen. Rey followed. "Do you do this often?"
He shook his head. "Not in years. When I first…came here…once I realized I could roam the corridors freely, I explored. My movements had been severely restricted during the time I spent with…during my initial training. So being able to just wander…it was a luxury. My quarters at the time were smaller and did not have a kitchen and, well, I was still growing, and I was always hungry. I discovered this place, and found that the kitchen was always stocked. So I'd come here and make myself a sandwich or eat a hunk of cake. No one seemed to care. But I outgrew it." As he talked, he had been retrieving items from the large durasteel conservator and piling them on the metal table in the middle of the kitchen. He sliced two large rolls and started piling them high with seasoned meat, cheese, vegetables and herbed oil. "There." He handed Rey an enormous sandwich.
She took it, turned it a few times and then leaned over the table and took a huge bite. "Mmmmm."
"Like it?"
She nodded, mumbling between bites. "So good!"
They ate in silence, standing over the table. Rey devoured the food, losing herself to the delicious mix of flavors and textures. When they were done, they chugged several bottles of juice from the conservator.
"So, umm…"
"Soon," he said, walking into the bar section. It was only then that she noticed he had barely touched his sandwich.
He looked over the selection of liquors, lifting bottles of variously-colored intoxicating liquids. When he touched a bottle of amber liquor, he snatched his hand back as if he had been burned. Corellian Whiskey. A scene flickered across the bond – a seedy cantina, Han Solo, thinner, tanner, with darker hair and brighter eyes, pouring a small amount of the amber liquid into a glass, passing it across the table, winking. 'Don't tell your mother'.
He grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap and took a long swig. "For Han Solo," he said, slamming the bottle down on the bar. Then he spun, raised a hand and, with a wave and a burst of Force power, flung the rest of the liquor bottles off the shelf, sending them crashing to the floor.
Rey jumped. She tested the bond. Nothing. Whatever thoughts were in his head, he didn't care to share them. She was almost glad. She had seen this before, when it happened and in Kylo's mind – Han Solo's face, pleading. His words, desperate, hopeful – replaced by another voice. The light saber passing through Han as the last light from the sun faded.
"That's how he tried to teach me."
She looked at him, confused. "I don't…"
"Han Solo."
"He thought you hated your father so much that killing him would help you?"
He laughed that mirthless laugh again. "No. It was not Han Solo he intended for me to despise."
She bit her lip, searched his face. The bond was back. Weak, guarded, but back, and he was remembering as well. She felt through the bond. Hatred was there, certainly. But not for Han. "Oh."
She looked at him. It's not okay.
I know.
He did. She could feel it. Remorse.
Weakness. She could feel his disgust at the word, at himself.
No. Humanity. If it wasn't there I wouldn't be here. She took the bottle, held it to her lips and took a drink. For Han.
He took the bottle from her and drank again.
"After…everything…I remember being hauled to a transport by Stormtroopers. Hux. Having my wounds minimally tended. Taken somewhere…another dark planet. Dragged to an audience chamber. Punished. That's when I first felt…you. You were there with me."
"I remember," she whispered. That night, what she had thought was a dream, a nightmare; the pain, the terror…
"I don't know how long that lasted. But finally, I was told it was time to complete my training." His voice was bitter. "My master told me…he had a gift for me. Something that would allow me to reach my full potential. I wanted that. I needed it, because as it was I was barely holding myself together. I had always thought my…Han Solo…hated me. Feared me. Was disappointed in me. Once my powers manifested – when I couldn't control them – the way he looked at me…he spent more and more time away, more and more time with others, pilots, racers. I knew he wished I was like them, but I wasn't. Couldn't be. So he wished I had never been born. I knew this to be true. Or I thought I did."
Rey gulped, apprehension trickling through her. "What was the gift?" She asked, eyes searching his face.
"My memories. Unaltered."
She furrowed her brow. "Unaltered?" She kept searching his face.
"Han Solo was a…mediocre father."
She started to interrupt, to tell him what she would have given for a mediocre father, for a neglectful one, even, but he held up a hand.
"That is not an insult. It is…the opposite. He was like most. Not wonderful, but also not terrible. He…did not really know how to be a father. Perhaps because he never had one himself. Or simply because of his nature. And he was afraid of the Force, of my powers, but not because he feared or hated me; because he didn't understand it, didn't know how to deal with it, and he feared for me. I did not see it because…because I saw things through the lens of Snoke's influence. I had since I was very young. Until after I…well, that was the gift." He looked away, eyes fixed on the middle distance. "It's called memory walk; one of the Supreme Leader's favorite techniques – to drag a person through all their worst memories, make them experience them again, over and over. He had done it to me many times, made me re-live all the ways Han Solo let me down, disappointed me, didn't want me. Wished to get rid of me so he could have my mother to himself. Only this time – I lived the memories as they must have really been; saw them from a different point of view. Saw that he was a flawed, floundering father; casually negligent, yes, but not cruel or resentful or uncaring. And then…I was in that moment, trapped there, repeating it over and over. Knowing…"
She sucked in a sharp breath.
"I – never wanted to do it. It was an order that I had run from for years. And that day, finally, I gave in. I thought I had to, I thought it would…well. It does not matter. What I thought was wrong. Warped. And…and then…then I found out it was all based on distortion. And he made me relive it, to make me angry, to make me hate. It went on and on, I kept repeating that act, he wouldn't release me, wouldn't relent…it was so real, like I was doing it all over again, looking into those eyes, my father's eyes, hearing those words, that voice, and igniting the lightsaber anyway, hearing it hum to life, seeing the agony on his face, smelling the burning flesh, feeling his hand touch my cheek - but knowing the truth. It hurt. Physically hurt. I was glad for the pain, because I did hate, more than I ever had before. Myself. My master. I hated. But not enough. Not enough to be free of the light, the conflict. It was worse than ever. Not enough to attain any new powers…so many he expected me to master after that, not just lightning. I think…I think perhaps I didn't let my powers grow then out of spite." He stared off, into nothing. "It did not work. The Supreme Leader was…beyond anger. Livid. Incensed. He showed me…the powers I should be able to use. Lightning. Crucitorn. Force drain, at a level I didn't know existed. Force Destruction."
She walked around the room, picking up items, turning them over and over in her hands, appraising them, as if trying to decide whether or not they had value. Finally, she came back to him. "You didn't want to do it."
"Want to? Never. So many things I never wanted to do, but that most of all."
She nodded. It still didn't make it okay, nothing would, but it meant something. She didn't know what to say, but hoped he felt some small release from the grip it held on him. The forgiveness and absolution he sought wasn't hers to give, but she gave what she could. "He loved you."
He sighed. "I know."
"But you didn't before."
"No."
He still refused to look at her. He was breathing heavily, but some of the swirling red anger and black self-loathing was gone. "I had always believed what he wanted me to believe. He was using me. Han Solo was right. His words stayed with me. And you. You stayed with me. I felt you and I…I cared. I think perhaps that's the only thing that held me together, then. And now." Rey. I need…
What?
Just that. I need.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he encircled her with his, and they stood there for a long time. Anger rippled through her. Anger and possessiveness and fear. This monster, this Snoke, would try to keep him. Would try to take him from her. Would try to manipulate him, twist his thoughts, tear them apart. And she would not allow that. She would not. Finally she looked up at him. "You know I love you, right?"
"Yes. Of course."
She reached up, caught his chin in her hand. "Do you know?" Her eyes bored into his.
He nodded. "Yes."
"Because you have to. You have to know. Without a doubt. I love you. All of you, forever. I want you. I need you. And I'll never, ever let you go." She gritted her teeth, tears squeezing out of her eyes. "Do you know?" Her voice was fierce.
"I know, Rey. I know. For the first time, with you – I don't doubt. I know. He can't do anything to make me doubt you." A look crossed his face, fear, terror as a thought occurred to him. He clasped her hands in his, pulling her close. "You have to know, too. No matter what he…says or…makes you think – because it feels real. So real. What he can do…it is powerful. It's easy to get…lost. He'll try…he'll try to pit us against one another. I feel it. And we'll have to hold on, to each other. You know how I love you, right?"
She nodded against their clasped hands.
He nudged her face up to look at his. "Do you really?" And she felt all he felt, washing across the bond and through her, so much, so intense, love and anger and fear and desperation and aching, keening need.
"Yes," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.
"Rey, no matter what happens, no matter what you think or feel, hold on to me. Please. Hold on to me."
"I will. And you do the same. If he…if he tries to twist things, just remember this…" she let all her feelings flow freely across the bond, too, her fierce love, her determination, her loyalty. "And this." And she sent images now, images of them, together, connected physically and mentally, one after another…the first time, in the rain and soft glowing light on Kamino; the lush, beautiful room on Takodana, her quarters, his shuttle…oh, that time, when their connection had been so intense it had pulled that 'I love you' from her mind…the time on the shuttle again, on the way here, when he had kissed every bit of her, claimed her. The first time in his quarters. Every day, every night after that. And quieter times, just holding one another, or eating, talking, laughing. Simply being together.
He joined her, sending images back, forming a loop, the same events from his point of view, and others – the early encounters, when they fought their way away from everyone, found somewhere out of the way and switched off their lightsabers and he ripped her clothes off, so desperate for her; those late nights in his quarters when he reached for her in half-sleep, weak, needing, and she accepted him; the training room, when he taught her to escape from Force Stasis; his quarters after Geonosis when they were both still pulsing with dark power.
It all flowed between them, so many images, and underneath it all, a ferocious, insistent love.
"Rey? Look." He gestured with his chin toward their hands.
She looked down just in time to see a small spark flicker and die on the tips of their clinging fingers. She gasped. He pulled his hand away, just a few millimeters, then a little more, a little more, and the sparks grew, crackled, flowed between their hands before fading.
She looked up at him and grinned. "We did it!"
"Well. A bit. But yes. We can build on this."
She looked up at him, eyes locked with his. "Yes. We can do this. We can be invincible. We can win."
He leaned down, arms encircling her, pulling her as close as possible, his lips brushing hers, gentle only for a moment and then kissing her with a desperation, a hunger, that washed over and through her. He bent her head back, kissed down her throat, biting and sucking with bruising intensity.
"We will win," he hissed against her throat.
A/N
Wow, that ended up being a long chapter! Some fluff with the little Huxes, and some serious angst in this one. No sexy times, but lots of desperate love.
I've been trying to write a scene where Rey and Kylo really deal with Han's death since early in this story, and it never seemed like the right time, it never worked, but I felt like they needed to deal with it, and it finally fit. I hope it worked; I hope I did it justice. Han was my first Star Wars crush, back when I was a grubby little kid having pretend light-saber battles with my dumb cousins, and I still cry if I watch the bridge scene – for Han and for Kylo. I don't think Han was father of the year, but I don't think he was a total ass, either. And I don't think Kylo wanted to kill him. I mean, look at their faces. Han and Leia failed their child, that's clear, but I do think they loved him. They just weren't enough. I get that.
Confession: I went back and re-read some previous chapters to remind myself of what I had written before, and noticed so many typos/autocorrect errors I missed. I am so sorry! Gah, I used to be so meticulous, but now my eyes are not as good as they used to be, and I'm always in a hurry, and I'm scatterbrained, so I'm sorry for the errors. Writing is my guilty pleasure and helps keep me sane, but I tend to always be rushing to post chapters and so I miss things. Thank you all for reading anyway, and overlooking that, and know how much you all mean to me – every hit, follow, fave, and, of course, review means the world to me!