Welp I was pretty much on time this week to make up for whatever happened last time. But I had a much clearer direction with where I wanted to go with this chapter way more than the last one and that was certainly a factor. Honestly between this and the Helsa fic, this is the one I'm feeling a lot more, but the Helsa one just has a bit more interaction. It's kind of fun to do both at the same time though, I won't lie.

To Do the Next Right Thing

Chapter 4

The story was so far fetched it just had to be true. Armitage Hux, recruited from Black Spire Outpost to fight in the Battle of Exegol? Brought here by Zorii Bliss and laying low here on Ajan Kloss until Rey returned from burying the lightsabers? Made it off a Star Destroyer using an escape pod moments before it went into light speed?

"Damn it, Zorii..." Poe uttered, and sure enough, hovering by a tree near Rey's dwelling, was Zorii, leaning against the trunk. When Poe met her gaze, she lifted her visor and gave him a nod before walking away, her steps light.

"She probably brought you here just to piss me off," he added. "Speaking of, you're not off the hook just because you've done a couple of decent things. But we promised to hear you out."

"I was planning on asking for an audience with General Organa," Armitage pointed out. "But it's unfortunate to hear about her loss."

This did present some awful conundrum. True, he'd defected the First Order, saved her friends' lives, fought in the Battle of Exegol, even—but his past actions shouldn't be overlooked, as well.

Then again, Rey couldn't even bring herself to tell Finn and Poe what happened between her and Kylo Ren. She was still too embarrassed—it'd been in the moment, regrettable, heated. Best let them just think him dead for those awful actions, and not... what had actually transpired.

But that would have to play in part with what she decided with Armitage. They had a lot of thinking to do.

"Hey, Lieutenant Connix has been wondering where..." Rose bounded up to the group, but paled the moment she saw Armitage. Finn stood, having to hold her back and trying to explain their odd situation. Their voices were hushed, but Rey could tell Rose was holding back all her anger. Her hands balled up into tight fists at her sides.

She took a deep breath, then pursed her lips. "I know you're still figuring out what to do with him—and it's a very weird problem—but I think I might feel just a bit better if I could punch him."

Rey blinked, looking between her friends. They all shrugged in return, finding the request strange, but... certainly not unwarranted, given everything that happened. Hell, Rey should probably get one in, too. Armitage's expression remained still, like he was expecting it. It probably couldn't have been worse than everything else he'd been through these past few days, Rey figured.

"It's... fine with me," she said slowly, and the boys eventually nodded in agreement.

Armitage just kept that cool demeanor as Rose stomped up to him. "Eventually you're going to pay for everything you've done, but first—"

"Wait," Poe interrupted. "Make sure you use your first two knuckles for impact; they hit the hardest."

"Yeah," Finn chipped in. "And all the power comes from your core."

Chewie growled something in addition, but Rey held up her hand. "Okay, okay, we're not going to go that far," she said, not bothering to translate.

"Oh." Rose readied her fist, like she had to ready herself, to be sure. Other than Chewie's suggestion, Armitage just—remained still as ever. Like he could dissociate from whatever pain was coming his way.

She missed his nose, but Rey could still hear the hard impact; it'd certainly leave him with a black eye, or a bruise to the cheek. Impressively, Armitage grunted, but he took the blow well—almost like it didn't affect him in the slightest.

"Nice punch," he said, doing little more than raising a brow. "Do you feel any better?"

Rose shook out her hand. "I think so," she pouted. "You didn't react much, though."

"Do you really think that's the first time I've taken a blow to the face?" he scoffed. "Good a punch as it was."

Rose looked to raise her fist once more, but Finn held her back again. "Look, much as we all might want to get one hit in, and much as he probably deserves it, we can't just make a ruling on that now."

"We have a lot to think about," Rey piped up, hoping to just figure this out, as soon as possible. The sooner she could just... figure out this man, and what to do with him, the sooner she could just put all this First Order business behind her and just focus on her future.

Whatever that future might be.

Hopefully not one where she was this beacon of hope like the Resistance wanted her to be. She was no hero, not when Generals Finn and Poe Dameron led this huge army into Exegol and did the real battle. Hell, at this point, even Armitage was probably more of a war hero than she was.

Shrugging, Rose stepped down from the dwelling. "Well, if you need me, you know where I'll be."

Honestly, they might. Because once she left, it was this strange standstill, where the air stood thick. All eyes were on Armitage. Armitage took a moment to rub his jaw, flex it out a bit. But he was otherwise fine, his eyes darting between the four of them.

After a few moments, he asked, "In the words of General Dameron, 'Who talks first?'"

Poe sucked in his cheek. "I mean, I'm still on the fence about all this. You've done some pretty terrible stuff."

Finn pointed toward Rey. "Well, what if we—"

"What?" Rey furrowed her brow, as Finn looked at her knowingly.

Oh. Oh. She sucked in a breath, unsure. "You really want me to...?"

"Well, you said you wanted answers. This might give you a clearer picture to what you decide to do with him."

Rey took a moment, contemplating. She looked Armitage dead in the eye, meeting that green gaze. On first glance, she thought they were blue, but the more she looked at them, the more she started to see that rarity—that his eyes were the same color as those lush forests on Takodana. That seemed like a lifetime ago, after all this.

"You've had Kylo Ren look into your mind without your consent before," she observed. He hadn't said anything, hadn't made any indication that it was probably the truth. She could just tell, even without looking to the Force.

This made Armitage sit up a bit straighter. "How did you know that?" he asked. "I know what it feels like to have the Force used on me, and you've done nothing."

"Because when Finn suggested it, I think I noticed something in your eyes," she replied. "He's used it on me, too."

"And me," Poe added. "And let me tell you—Kriff, that's pretty damn terrifying."

"And awful," said Rey. "Which is why I won't do it without your permission."

"My mind?" Armitage balled his hands up into fists on his lap. "You want to look into my past to determine what to do with me?"

"It..." How was she going to explain it, when the only exposure he had to the Force was through Kylo Ren and Snoke? "It won't feel... like those times. My aim is not to hurt you, or to extract information forcefully. It's just to simply observe, and see what brought you here. But you have to let me in."

She turned to Finn, reaching over to take his hand gently. "You can help me out, too."

Armitage blinked. "You're Force sensitive?" he asked, almost incredulously.

"Very recently discovered, but yes," Finn replied slowly.

Rey didn't want to be this last being who could harness the Force, who wielded it well simply because of her heritage. Her powers should be shared—and without Leia, she had to be the one to teach Finn what she knew. Every day he grew stronger with his intuition, surprising even her just with his determination. Her hand squeezed his, if just for reassurance.

"The Force flows through all of us," she explained to Armitage. "Some are just attuned to it more than others. And everyone has a distinct signature—even you."

Armitage pursed his lips, contemplating as he looked between Rey and Finn. Agree, and they would have an answer within moments. If not—Rey really wasn't sure what would happen to him. As someone so prominent in the First Order, he probably didn't deserve to live with them here... did he?

"Fine," he finally agreed, sitting back. "How exactly does this... reading work?"

"We're going to close our eyes. Finn and I will concentrate. You'll feel a bit of a probing in your mind, but much less like a demand and more of a question. All you have to do is clear your mind. Let the feeling in—embrace it," she explained.

"All right." Armitage sighed, closing his eyes first. "I must warn you, though—you won't like most of what you see."

But that wasn't what Rey was afraid of. She just hummed in acknowledgement, but closed her eyes and concentrated. She could feel Finn's presence beside her, comforting her. Poe and Chewie were no doubt looking on in awe, unsure of what to do unless things got too out of hand. With them around, though, she had to admit, she finally didn't feel alone at all.

Armitage had this tiny, broken signature. Beaten. Bruised. Battered. Here was a man who had been looked into more times than he cared to admit, held down by the Force as this awful, powerful entity embraced completely by the Dark side, as opposed to what the Light could show him. She pushed—gently at first, to let him know she was there, waiting for his answer.

"Breathe," she murmured, goading him on to follow her flow: in through her nose, out through her mouth. Slowly. Steadily. "Let me in whenever you're ready."

It took a few moments for him to find his flow, but when Armitage felt her presence, he softened. He allowed that opening, for her and Finn to read that past, to see what had shaped him into soldier, into general, into spy.

Pain. White pain. Ringing in the ears. The floor was cold, icy, almost, but it at least had some reprieve from the hot blood rushing to his face. The boot was on his cheek again—harder this time. Rey winced; Armitage must have been no older than ten.

"Pathetic," the deep voice above spat. Through blurred eyes, Rey took her first glimpse at Admiral Pryde, his gaze steely, his frown deep.

He shot you, Rey realized, looking to the future. For your treason against the First Order.

Shot and presumably killed by one of his abusers. So many, Rey realized, that Armitage had lost count long ago.

The cadets that pushed him into a pit of steelpeckers on Jakku. The hot sands burned the wounds that sprouted, and the raging tears that threatened to spill stayed in his eyes. Crying was weakness, and he was not weak like Father always implied.

A slap from Father, straight to the face for simply arriving a few moments after anticipated. They shared the same hair, orange and bright, and the greatest indicator that Armitage was, indeed, his son.

A pinch under the dinner table; cruel, sharp nails dug into his leg and twisted. Armitage yelped and Father demanded to know why he made a noise.

Armitage replied in a tiny voice, "Nothing, Sir." Looking up, he met the steely gaze of hatred. She was tall, regal, elegant. Her hair greyed at the temples, and a wrinkle or two graced her face, but she otherwise held the poise and dignity of any Imperial Armitage had ever seen.

She made him call her "Madam." But she was Maratelle Hux, Father's wife. Not his mother, which had confused him as a boy, but he figured out the term "bastard" far before any child ever should.

He had Mother's eyes, Mother's cheekbones, Mother's lips. Maratelle smacked him like she could smack the features clean off his face, as if they defined every fiber of his being. With Father, she was icy.

When they were alone, she was a vicious beast, who left Armitage with scars and bruises he could not complain about. He had to pretend they didn't exist, and if Father saw them, he ignored them, or figured they were part of training.

Small, skinny, red Armitage Hux. A thin wisp of a thing who wouldn't amount to much of anything, Father always said.

The abuse turned into a shell, made him turn all the pain he'd taken into a strength. The only way to show power was to make them listen. He was small; he could use brute attacks against his larger peers and make them all bow to him. Make Father and Madam regret every awful pain they'd ever caused.

Rey opened her eyes, panting. She hadn't realized sweat grazed her brow, or that her grip on Finn's hand had turned almost deadly. Turning to him, she realized he was just as overwhelmed.

Armitage looked calm as ever, but Poe leaned forward, concerned. "What happened in there?" he asked.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Finn replied, inhaling deeply.

"Had enough?" Armitage said instead. His tone wasn't condescending, merely flat.

"You..." Rey tried to catch her breath. "How have I not gotten past the first third of your life?"

Armitage shrugged. "There's not a lot of pleasantness in there."

All right. She could do this. She could try again. Huffing, she closed her eyes once more, and dove right back in; this time, he was ready, expecting it.

Rey decided to push more toward the recent past—what made him choose the path he was on now? He'd done these awful things, and that couldn't exactly be immediately excused.

She felt the frustration, the near demotion after the scourge on Batuu. Seeing Pryde in person for the first time in years after knowing the end of his boot, suddenly taking over his duties was that catalyst for change. She felt the choking hold—literally and figuratively—from Kylo Ren, this nightmarish hell of his enemy being the Supreme Leader. The ever present nightmares, the waking of him feeling like he was being crushed by the Force, unable to move. The new bruises and scars littering his body hidden like none of this affected him. So close to achieving the perfect utopia for the galaxy—hopes for it all dashed. He was weak, skinny, worthless, like Father had always said.

And to hear of Palpatine's return, this reliance completely on the Force, the very thing that held him back the latter part of his life—

She started to understand where this pain and abuse had led to this rebellion. By the time he'd saved her friends, she relived the pounding heartbeat of taking the Stormtrooper blaster and using it on his own troops, to proudly declare his spy status as if to solidify it.

She knew the rest, but breezed through it, felt it from him. The relief of breaking free from the First Order. The confusion on Black Spire Outpost, wondering what future he might have as this fugitive, this spy. The catharsis of seeing Pryde blasted from the Steadfast, of seeing the Final Order fall from above as she had witnessed the destruction of her grandfather below.

His first kiss—done around the same time as—

But with Finn here, she couldn't think that, couldn't let him know. She instead focused on Julen's sudden and wet lips on his, so fast and hectic that he still couldn't process it. A surge of slight happiness, sure, but was there anything else in there?

Rey pulled back out. "Has anything good happened in your life before you defected?" she asked.

"And by 'good,' you mean...?"

"Positive. Happy." Even she had some good memories back on Jakku, like that time she found those solar panels on the TIE and didn't have to scavenge for weeks based off the portions she'd received, giving her time to work more on her speeder and work on flight simulators. Memories like that didn't seem to exist within Armitage Hux.

Armitage scoffed. "Happiness is hardly something offered in our ranks. Just ask your defected Stormtrooper."

"Finn," Finn emphasized. "You know my name is Finn." He turned to Rey, sighing. "But he's right. You're going to have to really dig deeper to even see if there's something we can work with."

Third time had to be the charm. Rey decided to look for something, anything that would make his life seem like anything less than a tragedy.

There it was. There she was. Sure, Armitage felt this surge of pride for leading the cadets, having beaten them all in combat and proving he was the best of the best. But that did not compare to former Grand Admiral Rae Sloane.

Rae. When he first heard the scavenger's name, his heart skipped a beat. It was a mere coincidence, yes, but the reminder was there. Interesting.

She was the reason Father stopped beating him. She was the reason he learned even a lick of anything from Father in the first place. Sure, her motives weren't altruistic—protection against his father for protection against any cadet that tried to harm her, but from then on, Armitage had someone to look up to, with that powerful white streak in her raven hair, her eyes dark and fierce.

He flinched when she first put reassuring hands on his shoulders, like he was afraid something awful would happen. When people touched him, it was never out of affection; it was always to harm him. But she instead gave him words of assurance, let him know he had the strongest spirit of all the cadets, more than most Imperials she'd ever encountered.

But she was gone now. Gone before she could see the legacy she'd built with him, see what he could become, where that potential led. She was the only positive he'd known.

Looking back, Rey realized that while there had been Maratelle: beating him down, making him feel inferior, feel like he didn't belong not only to the Hux family, but to this galaxy as well. Armitage knew he wasn't hers, had felt the distance and the sharp of her nails, the wrath of her palm. She looked at him like he wasn't even worth the dirt under her boots.

His mother. He had to have a mother—could Rey find her? Did she even exist in a memory past his birth?

Could she access something so small?

She kept moving back, to where memories were blurred, made no sense. To where nurse droids took care of his basic needs. White surrounded each edge of each memory, unsure of what was real and what wasn't.

But there were dreams, feelings. Emotions. She searched for any mention of her.

Kitchen wench. That young hussy. The blonde whore. Brendol's plaything. Armitage had heard all of that said about her before he was five. But there was always this strange feeling tugging at the back of his skull telling him that they were all wrong. Something telling him she was more than just some kitchen woman. She hid in the corners of his mind his whole life: always distant, but he thought of her on occasion. Wondered if what they said was true; did he have her eyes, her lips? Those distinct cheekbones?

Did he inherit any of her personality, or did Brendol beat his ideas into him?

One of his fantasies as a child, after thinking about how the galaxy would be far more peaceful if he was the perfect soldier, running it with complete order, was some life where his mother kept him, and Father didn't. She probably made sure he drank his blue milk and didn't pinch him under the table. She would probably hug him.

But such thoughts espoused weakness, and who knew who was watching.

A few hours old. Maybe a day old. Rey had to look that far back and hope for any sign, any indication. Her hand squeezed Finn's, asking for assistance. She called on every bit of her being, her powers to help her. No one remembered their lives from that far back, but those thoughts still existed. That good feeling had to come from somewhere, and Rey was going to find it.

"Armitage." The voice was distant, but almost angelic. Too soft to be hers, or Maratelle's, or Rae Sloane's. Rey followed it, chased it down.

The memory was blurred beyond belief, perhaps not even entirely real—but there she was. Rey took in what she could about this woman. At the time of his birth, she couldn't have been older than she currently was, perhaps only eighteen or nineteen. They were all right about her being blonde, her hair tied back into a loose tail with golden ringlets framing her youthful face. Scant freckles dotted her cheeks, something Armitage was now surprised to see they also came from her. That face Rey now saw in this man, she saw in this young mother. Her plump lips curled into a smile—albeit, a sad one, one of longing, of knowing.

Knowing she didn't have the power to keep her son.

Brendol, in Armitage's early memories, looked quite a bit older than this woman. Immediately Rey wondered what happened, wished she had more than just this once glance.

This was the first instance of any real affection he'd ever gotten. Rey watched his mother hold her son, cradle him to her bosom, the aura about the whole memory warm. Those green eyes haunted her, conveying all the hopes and dreams she had for her son.

Hopes and dreams that would never come to be if he grew up with Brendol.

But there was something else there, calling to Rey. There was more to this woman than just a pretty face, she knew it.

With the image burned into her mind, Rey finally extracted herself completely from Armitage's mind and let go of Finn. Trying to keep it in there as long as possible, she scrambled to find a stylus and flimsiplast, the others looking on silently. Armitage unraveled his scarf from his neck, overwhelmed from the complete deep dive into more of his past than even he was capable of thinking was there.

When she found her items, Rey scribbled down the image as quickly as possible, using Armitage's face as a reference. Make those features softer, a tad younger—add those soft curls. Aha. That was as close as she could get to seeing her face in his memory.

Rey held up the drawing for Armitage. "That's your mother, is it not?" she asked.

"Your—what, now?" Poe blinked, looking between the drawing and Armitage. "Oh. No wonder that's a sore spot for you."

"You got the likeness perfectly," Finn commented, impressed. "I didn't know you could draw."

Rey shrugged. "I had a lot of time to learn a lot of different skills on Jakku."

Chewie growled his approval, making Rey grin. "Well, thanks, Chewie. But she did look that beautiful in his memory."

"What about my mother," said Armitage, trying to hide the slight shake in his voice. "I didn't even know she looked like that, until now. Whatever you just unlocked."

She could feel this surge in the Force, something else drawing her to this woman. It was the key to what she wanted to do about this entire situation. "I felt something in there, something about her. You felt it, too, didn't you, Finn?"

"Um... sure?" But Finn looked confused. Damn. "I think there was something, but it was really faint."

"Feel what?" Rey watched Armitage clench his scarf like his life depended on it, as if to keep him from wrenching the flimsiplast from her hands.

"Your mother, Armitage," Rey repeated, a grin forming on her face. "I think she's alive."

Look, I hate the kiss. More than anything. But it happened. So we're gonna try and make it all work somehow.

Also the plot thickens? We're starting to get into the meat of where I want it to go and I can't wait to write the rest!

As always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated.