The Patron Saint of Lost Causes
Chapter 4
"You have to eat something."
"I'm not hungry."
Rose's shoulders hunched, watching Hux from the other side of the bars. He was sitting on the stone floor, back against the wall, staring at the ground. He'd so far refused anything but the ration bars, which looked like he was nibbling at off and on. They'd been allowing him use the bases' fresher under guard, but he still looked a mess, and for a man usually so fastidious, such behavior rang alarm bells in Rose's head.
She knew what this was. This was grief.
Well, he was no use to the Resistance a starved or broken man.
She wanted to hate him for making her feel this way. Like she had to care about him in even the smallest, minute, human sense. She wanted to scream at him, throw things, but that wouldn't help anyone; the Resistance, Hux, or her.
She could feel bad for his cat, though. Another innocent life destroyed by simply existing in the man's orbit. That was something she could understand.
She took a steadying breath, steeling herself, and said, "I'm came to say sorry about yesterday. Millicent, and Poe. That was cruel of him." The words tasted like ash, but she said them anyway. She had to show him; they weren't like the First Order. "What, um, sort of cat was she?"
She swore she saw his lower lip tremble before answering, "Ginger."
Like him.
The thought tightened her throat.
"I know how you're feeling," she said quietly. "A lot of us around here do."
He was human, after all; even if it was more personally convenient to think of him as a devil.
"Commendable," Hux muttered, "but I'm not interested in talking through my feelings on the subject. I'm sure the Resistance's weekly group sessions work wonders for you all."
Rose glared. What a jerk. Did he see anyone else standing outside his cell even trying to talk to him? No, she didn't think so.
"Fine. Don't talk about your feelings. But I can stand here and talk as long as I'd like. It's not like you can just walk out of the room or anything."
"I'm quite capable of ignoring you."
"Yeah? Good job with that so far."
His jaw tensed, scowling at the ground.
"Look," she said, "I know you'd like to think you're some kind of superior being and all that, but losing someone or something you care about is the same. Resistance or First Order. Loss is loss. You're not special." Hux snorted, finally looking in her direction. That caught Rose off guard for a moment; it wasn't supposed to be funny. She swallowed. "I know you feel isolated right now, but believe me, talking about it helps. Not talking about it makes it worse. You have to realize you're not alone."
Flashes of Paige's face constricted her heart. Despite her best attempts to remain impassive, she felt a lump of sorrow well in the back of her throat, eyes prickling with tears.
"Unless you're incredibly simple, I am alone."
A spike of unhelpful indignance took hold of her. "What am I? Invisible? I don't see anyone else around here giving you the time of day." He could at least be grateful they hadn't stuck him in solitary confinement for a month.
They weren't like the Order, but that meant having to actually face your feelings. That was the trade-off.
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I'm sure you're only the first in an endless wave of idealists the Resistance will throw my way in an attempt to gain my confidence. Tiresome. When am I going to have an audience with General Organa?"
There was a beat of tense, pregnant silence.
"She's dead." Rose's voice was flat; dangerous. "She died trying to save Ben."
Hux was actually surprised. He hadn't expected that. After so long, he'd started wondering if that woman wasn't damn near immortal.
He glanced up and saw tears in Rose's eyes, one of her hands gripping the metal bars with white, trembling knuckles. He was taken aback by a stab of reluctance. It was the same hand that had touched his; fed him water. Well, she'd only done so because he was useful to them, hadn't she? That's why she was here, after all, because she'd been ordered to gain his trust. The Resistance and their unwaveringly transparent motives.
"Sorry to disappoint you," she said at length, "but Leia left Poe in charge. Even if you think I'm lying, I am sorry he hurt you yesterday. It was uncalled for. He was being an ass."
"Is that not his natural state of being?" Hux mumbled, looking away.
Rose snorted, wiping her eyes. That was sort of funny, she had to admit. "Well, I won't deny he can be a lot to deal with sometimes. You've just never seen another side of him. Everyone has different sides. Yourself included."
He frowned, regarding her. "Me?"
"Yeah." She shrugged, trying to school her expression into something flat and clinical. "I liked you better when you were just text on a screen, for instance. At least then I could pretend you were a good person."
Such honesty. He wasn't ready for it, so it cut, deep.
"You shouldn't," he said thickly.
"You're right."
They were silent after that. He could hear her sniffling, and it made him irrationally angry. Didn't she know it was weak to show such naked emotion? It gave your enemies a distinctive strategic advantage. Another obvious failing in the Resistance's methods.
If their methods are so defective, an intrusive thought snagged at him, then how did they defeat such a fine machine as the First Order?
Luck, he told himself, but for some reason it rang hollow.
He was unwilling to acknowledge her again, and so it was obvious their conversation was over. Eventually, Rose's hand slipped from the bars and she retreated from his cell.
Hux sat against the wall for hours more, replaying the events of the last few days over in his head until his bones ached from stiffness. He groaned upon standing.
Shifting to the slab stone bed, he wrapped the small blanket around himself, lying to stare at the ceiling. Which looked… exactly like the stone wall. Hux sighed, rubbing his eyes.
At least then I could pretend you were a good person.
Unwise, that. Since he wasn't.
When he did finally drift to sleep, after hours more of familiar insomnia, it was only to dream again. A memory, distorted by those tricks that dreams could play.
Hux was a child, except he wasn't. He was hiding behind a door, listening to his father and Admiral Sloan on Arkanis, except he wasn't. He was listening to their meeting on the Ravager, after the evacuation.
"Armitage is a weak-willed boy," he heard his father say. "Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless."
The portly man laughed, nervous.
Hot rage and shame consumed Hux as he held himself, nails digging into the upper sleeves of his Officer's uniform.
Tears fell, except it was water from a broken glass, and he was commanded to lick it from the floor.
The next day found Rose walking towards the stockades with determined strides.
With a with a new day came renewed determination.
This was her job. Her responsibility. She wasn't going to give up just because their informant turned out to be Hux. He was a cold man, but he wasn't an idiot. He had the capacity to learn; to grow. If he could prove he deserved it.
She'd tried being sentimental, to connect with him on an emotional level, but that hadn't gotten her very far. No surprise. She hadn't really thought he worked that way anyway, but after seeing his reaction to the news about Millicent, she had wanted to try.
But no, he didn't trust them. Not enough to be honest with her concerning something so personal. Any why would he? He was still working under the impression that they were his enemy. And while he wasn't exactly their ally, the war was effectively over.
He could learn to trust people, she knew it, and maybe he could see why the Empire had been wrong about the Republic
So, what could reach him?
How did she think the Order would treat an informant, if the roles were reversed?
How could she prove to him they were different?
"I brought you something."
He glanced over from where he was lying on the pallet, one knee bent, hands laced and resting on his stomach. He looked surprised to see her. Maybe he'd thought she'd left for good. Sitting up, she watched as he tried to fix his hair by running a hand through it to smooth it down. He must have known by now it was fruitless.
Probably just force of habit, Rose thought.
Before he could say a word, she chucked the parcel through the bars at him. It hit him in the chest, flopping into his lap. He picked it up with two fingers, like it might try and bit him.
"It's a sandwich, you insufferable—" Rose cut herself off, determined not to break composure. She took a deep, steadying breath. "You can't survive on ration bars alone."
He arched an eyebrow at her, but unwrapped the sandwich all the same.
"This too," Rose added, kneeling down to reach through the bars, rolling an aluminum can across the floor towards him.
Hux stopped it under the toe of his boot, frowning as he bent to pick it up.
"Processed juice?" He pulled a face.
Rose threw up her hands. "What? You want Corellian whiskey or something?"
He placed the can primly at his side. If she was going to indulge in bribery, he could at least ask for something he'd actually enjoy. "You wouldn't happen to have… tea, would you?"
Rose laughed at the sheer nerve. She couldn't help herself.
Hux's head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed.
"Drink the juice for now," she said, exasperated. "After you're done, you'll be coming with me."
Ah, perhaps this was his last meal, Hux mused. The final straw must have been making her cry about her precious General. He ate in silence, listening to Rose busying with something down the hall from his cell. The sandwich was supremely underwhelming as far as last meals were concerned, but he ate it all the same. It would be a shame for the last thing he ever tasted to be a ration bar.
He finished the food quickly despite its bland taste, crumpling up the wrapping. He left it behind with the unopened juice, taking a few quiet steps toward the cell's bars.
She was acting… odd, he thought. Different. Less formal, which made him suspicious.
What kind of ploy was this?
She hadn't noticed he'd moved, so when she turned around again, he was right there, pale green eyes staring at her through the durasteel barricade.
"Oh!" She jumped back, hand on her heart.
His eyes widened, startled himself. He tried to sneer at her, but it was obvious her reaction had thrown him, so it came off less withering then he would have liked.
Rose shook her head, trying to clearing it and calm her suddenly racing heart. She glared at him and pointed. "Step back." When he took exactly one step backwards, she rolled her eyes and growled, "All the way, you infuriating man."
Hux tamped down a smirk, retreating to the back of the cell as she took out the datachip to unlocked the cell. He noticed then the blaster at her side, which she unholstered before opening the door.
"Let's go," she said.
He did as he was bid and without protest, much to Rose's relief. She didn't know if she could go toe-to-toe with his vitriol day in and day out without losing her mind, her temper, or both.
"Alright, hands up. Start walking." She felt braver with the blaster trained on back. He was… tall. Almost a foot taller than she was. Thin, too. The only thing making him look imposingly broad was the particular way in which his jacket was cut at the shoulders, and how stiff his posture was. She wondered absently if she could take him in a fight.
"Wait!" She suddenly realized he was taking the hallway that lead outside, pulling her from her daydream.
He stopped without turning.
"Not that way. Go to the left."
He hesitated, but obeyed.
Her words confused him. What were they going to do, he wondered, shoot him inside? What a mess that would be. They passed the door to the latrine they'd been letting him use, continuing on. Towards the back of the hallway, illuminated by the overhead lightbulbs, the traitor came into view, holding a blaster of his own and standing in front of a door.
"He give you any trouble?" Finn asked Rose.
"You mean besides his general attitude?" Rose huffed. "No, it's fine."
Hands still raised slightly in the air, Hux turned his head slowly to look at her. "What am I doing here?"
"It's the showers," Finn answered, which irked him. He hadn't been asking FN-2187.
"We've got a change of clothes for you too, for when you're done," Rose added. At his wholly baffled expression, she added, "Your uniform is completely trashed. What did you think, that we're going to make you live in it?" She scoffed. "We're not cruel."
The implication there was meant to be obvious.
Hux could feel heat crawling up his neck. He just stood there, arms raised lamely, looking at the door in front of him.
After a long pause, Finn leaned in with a worried look at Rose. "Did he hear what we said?"
"I heard you perfectly fine," Hux snapped. He'd heard all right, he just wasn't sure if he was ready for the humiliation. Maybe if he didn't move, it wouldn't happen.
Something pushed against the small of his back; it felt suspiciously like the round end of a blaster.
"Come on," Rose groaned. "I have other things to do besides babysit you all day."
He moved forward, if only to get her to stop touching him. FN-2187 opened the door, and Hux stepped through. The room beyond was dimly lit, but the wide folding windows along the top of the outside wall let in a bit more light. There were rows of shower stalls, each separated by chest-high barriers. It reminded him of his training days on the Absolution, which… did not improve his mood.
He was about to turn around, close the door behind him, but FN-2187 stepped through the threshold before Hux could stop him.
"Excuse me?"
Finn looked confused, keeping his blaster level as Rose closed the door from out in the hall. "For what?"
Hux pressed his lips together, his patience fraying. "I mean excuse me, what the hell are you doing? Am I not afforded a bit of privacy?"
The other man snorted. "Uh, no." Hux's expression was venomous. "See those windows up there?" Finn motioned with the barrel of his blaster. "How do we know you won't be able to wriggle your way to freedom? Someone has to watch you. You don't want it to be Rose, do you?"
Hux paled so quickly he actually felt dizzy.
"I— I reason this is the preferable option," he mumbled.
"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry it up, will you?"
Hux eyed the small chair off to the side. Piled there was a towel and what had to be his new prison uniform. He glanced back at Finn with a pointed look as he pulled off his boots. The man rolled his eyes, but turned slightly, staring with an annoyed expression at the wall.
"Look at him! Scrawny like a little girl!"
Hux fumbled with the buttons on his coat, biting the inside of his lip. He tried to block out the memories of his youth, but they thundered in his head.
He shrugged out of his jacket, stiff with grime and blood. Before laying it aside, he ran a finger over the grey band that had denoted his rank. General Armitage Hux. That man hadn't been weak-willed. A contemptible cur, yes, but one with rank and power.
He swallowed, throat tight, and folded the jacket with solemn reverence, as one might fold a flag upon the casket of a dead man.
The ruined shirt went next, the fabric pulling over the skin of his shoulders uncomfortably as he let it fall off his arms.
"What are those, Armitage? Hickies?"
"No way! They're burns. They gotta be!"
"What?" A laugh. "You break another one of daddy's holopads?"
Goosebumps prickled over his pale skin as he shucked off his black slacks and underthings. Shivering slightly, he thought he must look even more gaunt than before, shoulders pulled forward to try and keep in the rapidly dissipating body heat. He hoped the adhesive bandages were waterproof.
"Oiy, Armitage! Ever see what happens when you roll up a towel real, real tight?"
Turning to the shower, he was surprised to see it was one of those running water models. There must have been a wellspring somewhere near the camp. He depressed the button under the spigot, letting out a high-pitched yelp as a jet of cold water hit him in the chest. He jumped out of the way, sucking in a shuttering breath, water splattering onto the stone floor. He could hear FN-2187 let out a snort of laughter.
Hux shook, but from cold or from rage he could not tell.
With a hiss, he stepped back under the spout, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Along the wall was a small dispenser. The soap was watery and didn't lather well, but he used it all the same, even on his hair.
He watched as the dirty water swirled down the floor drain. Years of work— decades— just… slipping away. His authority, his pride, his… cat. Draining through his fingers.
Who had he been fooling, entertaining the idea that he could he could steal away from the Resistance and reclaim control of the Order? They were never going to leave him unguarded. This was his life now.
He was surprised at how dull the pain was, finally acknowledging that his father had been right about him all along.
"Hey, I've been meaning to say thanks."
Hux froze, reeling. Was… was the traitor talking to him? Talking to him while he was in— in the shower? Was this actually hell?
"For saving us back there, I mean. On the Steadfast." Finn was angled away, so he couldn't see the expression of pure violence the other man was giving him. "Sorry it got you, you know. Shot. Uh. More shot."
Hux had to physically make his hands unclench themselves.
"So," Finn cleared his throat. It was obvious this was hard for him, giving any kind of credit to a man like Hux. "Yeah. Thanks for that. Really saved our—"
"If I tell you 'you're welcome' will you Please. Stop. Talking."
Finn shifted his feet, but fell blessedly silent, and Hux went back to rinsing the poor-quality soap out of his hair.
By the time he was done, he supposed his lips were probably blue.
He dried himself in silence, unfolding the black underthings and trousers they'd given him. They fit well, unlike the dark-grey long-sleeve jumper that was about half a size too big. He ended up folding the cuffs back. In the mirror, cracked and peeling from years of neglect and moisture, he attempted to press his hair into something manageable now that it was damp. It worked, to a degree. Not optimal, but at least no longer streaked with blood and grease. The short stubble along his jaw was another issue. He doubted they'd let him use a razor.
At Hux's weary sigh, Finn cleared his throat.
"Done?"
He slipped on his boots. "I suppose so."
At least the probability of his execution had dropped significantly, he thought. If they were going to shoot him, he doubted they'd allow him the use of fresh water.
Out in the hall, they ran into Rose, who was still standing where they'd left her, only now holding a thick stack of folded blankets. She glanced over. The look on her face; she almost didn't recognize him for a moment.
It made him uncomfortable, so as to distract them both, he sneered. "I don't suppose the Resistance has ever heard of hot water before?"
His words did not have the intended effect. She laughed. He glared at her.
"Here," she said instead, shoving the bolts of cloth into his chest.
Hux grabbed at them at the last moment. "What are these for?"
"For you." Her insinuation that he was simple only increased his displeasure. "We're not moving you into the barracks, for obvious reasons, but sleeping on a stone bed can't be comfortable, so I brought you these."
He looked down at the thick blankets he was now holding.
He hadn't even given them any actionable information, and yet she was allowing him creature comforts? What was she playing at? He tried to think of what underhanded goal she had in mind, but there were either too many angles or not a single one. He wasn't sure which option frustrated him more.
That evening, Rose pulled up a chair outside the cell but didn't immediately sit. They'd deposited Hux back to his cell mid-morning, and then she had to go do parts of her other job, and now her back was aching. A lot of the ships that had returned from the battle of Exegol had damage that needed looking after. It was a busy time to say the least. Until their fleet was well enough to be on their way, the forest base would be their home for at least the next few weeks at minimum.
Setting down her shoulder bag, she used the back of the chair to twist and stretch. "Are you up for another round of questions?"
His voice echoed out from the back of the tiny room. "Do I have a choice?"
"No," she smiled, overly-cheerful, twisting in the opposite direction. "Not really. We made a deal."
"I'm struggling to see how our bargain still stands with the Order in the state it's in. Why should help you at all?"
She shrugged, nonchalant. "Maybe it's not the Order we'll be protecting you from." She let the insinuation hang in the air as she reached down and flipped open her bag, extracting a long, cylindrical canteen. "I did bring another peace offering, if it's any consolation." She waved a thermos at her prisoner. "Think of it as… an incentive."
Hux unfolded himself from the stone pallet, which had since been piled with blanket, and approached the cell's bars with a note of apprehension.
"Don't worry, it's not poisoned." She passed him the container through the bars, making a face. "Although it certainly tastes like it."
"Splendid. You're doing a fine job selling the fact that it's potable."
"Could be worse," she quipped, taking a seat in the chair. "Could be canned juice." She watched Hux unscrew the lid of the thermos, sniffing at the steam that was released, before taking a tentative sip.
He made a face too. "What is it?"
Rose blinked, nonplused. "It's tea."
"Is it really?" He deadpanned.
She was about to say something waspish, but then she caught the way his green eyes were looking at her. There was an element of mirth there, peeking through the strands of ginger hair that had fallen out of place since his shower. He was being impudent, sure, but he was also trying to be funny. Dry, but funny.
It struck Rose in a weird way, in an uneasy feeling that swam just above her navel. He should be red faced and screaming at her, like the rabid dog on the holo at Starkiller. He should be deriding her, relishing in his power like on the deck of the Supremacy. This otherness of him, the tiny slivers of humanity that peeked through— humor, grief— they sent her off kilter. How could a murder of almost unimaginable magnitude be standing there, in a too-big sweater, griping about tea?
His brows pulled together as he caught her expression.
"Why did you let me keep my pendant?" She asked suddenly, hand having strayed to her medallion without really thinking.
He frowned. "That's your question?"
"Er—" Rose flushed, scratching the back of her neck absently. "I… yeah. Yeah, it is."
His eyes narrowed at her, trying to read between the lines and pick up on what she really wanted. He took another sip of tea; more time to think.
It had been a show of power, surely, he thought. A way to remind her that he could give as well as take away. That she was at his mercy even as he sentenced her to die. But there was something else, too. He had nothing from his time on Arkanis, for better or for worse. If he were being honest with himself, he had little of his childhood, his past, other than bad memories and a few scars.
He took a small breath. "It would have been dishonorable, as a soldier, to let you die without it," he said at length.
She gave him a sad look, sniffing. He shifted uncomfortably, moving away so he could sit down.
"Not a satisfactory answer?" He asked when she was silent.
"No, that's not it. My sister had the other half. I was just… thinking… about her."
He swirled the liquid in the thermos, watching it go round and round. "You would be from Hays Minor, I suspect."
She nodded, staring at the ceiling to gather herself. "Yeah…"
"You can count that as my question, if you'd like," he muttered, watching as the tea slowed into a lazy eddy.
Rose could hear her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Almost as if it were someone else, she heard herself say, "My sister was the bomber who destroyed your Dreadnaught." Surprise flashed over Hux's face. "Her name was Paige, and she died a hero trying to stop you. She was the bravest person I've ever known."
Brave and foolish, Hux thought, a combination which killed most Resistance fighters in the end, but saying such things would no doubt upset her. And then she would leave. And he would be alone again. And even though it pained him to admit it, she'd been right the other day. Being alone with his thoughts was agony; he kept imagining a small orange cat suddenly bounding across the floor.
A stab of guilt made him wince as he stared down into the thermos. The memories of that day with the Dreadnaught were safer; the terror of his failure, the sharp pain as his lip split open on the floor of the command deck.
So, that had been her sister, had it?
"Look at where the Order now sits," he said in a careful voice, "it's neck upon on the edge of a knife, if not run through already. Do you think your sister would take back her actions?"
That day had been a strategic victory for the Resistance. He was not so blind as to be unable to recognize the importance of the Tico sister's actions, even if she were his enemy.
"No." Rose's eyes were fierce. This woman, who had fed him water and brought him blankets, who stared at him defiantly when she'd been mere moments from death. When she said no, he believed her.
"I'm not looking for an apology. Or your pity," Rose said into the silence between them. "I'm not going to sit here and hold my breath until you tell me you're sorry for her death. I don't need that from you." She surprised herself with how true those words felt. "I don't think I'd believe you anyway."
Good, Hux thought. He did take her as exceptionally perceptive.
Rose let out a shaky sigh. "I just… wanted you to know her name. So she's real. So she's not just a criminal to you. Or vermin. She was just my sister. Paige."
He'd almost forgotten he'd called her that. Vermin. After she'd bit him, the memory of what came before had gone a bit fuzzy. "Stealing your enemy's humanity," he said matter-of-factly, "is what makes killing people easier."
It wasn't an excuse. It was simply the truth. And maybe if the Resistance adopted such tactics, they're members wouldn't end up so unprofessionally sentimental.
Well… unprofessional or not, it certainly hadn't stop them from besting his army.
"And now you're helping us. The very people you called vermin."
The implication there was clear. In labeling them as such, didn't that now place him in the same category as those he had derided? Wasn't he, in turn, vermin?
A rat that had fled a sinking ship?
"Yes," he said. "The irony is not lost on me. I'm sure they think it's quite funny."
Rose frowned. "They? They who?"
His mouth opened to respond, but he closed it again. He'd been thinking of quite a number of people, but—
"I don't think it's funny," she said.
"Well, you'd be better than most." He took a large mouthful of tea, relishing in the way the hot liquid nearly scalded his mouth. Rose glanced down to fiddle with the datapad in her lap, and once again he was caught by the light that glinted off her medallion. Before she could open her mouth to speak—
"You told me you knew how I was feeling before," Hux muttered, almost to himself. "I gather now you meant your sister."
Rose lowered the datapad back into her lap. "I did."
A tight, terrible feeling had burrowed its way into the center of his chest.
This was it, Rose thought. Her opening.
"You loved Millicent, didn't you?" She needed to know. Needed to know he was capable of something other than hate and ire.
His brow furrowed. That cat was perhaps the only living thing that had never seemed to be waiting for him to fail. And now she was gone. Because of him.
He didn't say the words, but Rose watched as his shoulders pulled inward, like grief was pushing down on him, and she felt some kind of thrill. Vindication? She wasn't sure if it were out of compassion or something vindictive, maybe both, but she wanted to push him.
"It's like losing a part of yourself, isn't it?" Her eyes closed briefly, thinking back to the first few days and weeks of Paige's absence. She held a hand to her pendant. "You think, how can I still be here, enjoying anything—eating, sleeping, breathing— when they're gone. You go over everything in your mind, trying to think of what could have been changed, what you could have done different." He looked like he was trying very hard to not listen to her words. "You think they're just going to walk through the door, like they never left."
Something in his expression broke.
"I left her there." His tone was puzzled, as if he were trying to work out what the words meant. He'd saved his own skin. Just like his father had done. The realization felt like the blaster to the chest all over again.
Rose gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry. I'm sure she would have forgiven you."
He looked up at her then, and the naked vulnerability in his gaze struck her sideways. He was in pain, and pleading with her to stop.
She swallowed. Had she pushed too far?
"That's—" His voice broke off, and he had to clear his throat, eyes blinking rapidly. "That's quite enough, Miss Tico." His voice was softest she'd ever heard from him. "Perhaps we've gotten a little off track. You must have more relevant inquires."
"I— I came up with a few questions last night. About which First Order installations would recommend we attack first in the Unknown Regions."
Focus, he demanded of himself, licking his lips and sipping the tea again. The truly terrible taste seemed to ground him. He took a breath that shuddered, despite his best efforts. "You would do well to strike against the shipyards above Fondor. It houses our highest concentration of starships. If you've crippled the fleet so completely, they will be overtaxed in trying to build new Destroyers."
Rose took notes on her datapad. "I can assume, of course, that you're telling me the truth?"
"There are few reasons why I would mislead you. It is obvious the Order's back is broken. Why should I throw myself on the pyre just to save some burning wreckage?"
It should have been you leading the Order, a voice in his head said with disturbing clarity.
He just had to jump ship before seeing how things played out.
I will outlive you all.
On the other hand, there could be fragments of him scattered all over Exegol right now…
Which would be better? Alive and a traitor? Or dead, pride intact?
"So, you're only loyal to yourself in the end, is that it? You really don't care about the Order?"
"Of course I care about the Order!" He snapped, pain and rage finally bubbling to the surface. "The 'Supreme Leaders' and their infuriatingly misguided Force-magic nonsense, leading us to ruin. We were supposed to bring order to the universe, be the iron hand that saved he galaxy, not chasing ghosts. Not gallivanting off to some old wizard's castle." The wound in his chest, still in the process of healing, ached dully. He pushed a hand through his hair, breathing hard. He'd been careless, admittedly. He should have poisoned Pryde's morning caf as soon as Ren promoted him.
Now he did wish he had some Corellian whiskey…
"You really think the First Order was saving the Galaxy?" She clearly didn't believe him.
"The Empire saved the galaxy from the chaos of the Clone Wars." He said it like it were obvious. "The Order was doing the same; from the listless, ineffective Republic."
Rose shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. Such distortion. He really was delusional after all, she thought.
"It matters little now," Hux drank from the thermos. "I was right, in the end. Ren and his ambition drove us into the ground. And look, my reward for being correct." He gestured lazily around the cell.
"At least you're alive," Rose whispered.
"Oh yes. A toast to my incarceration. And to a galaxy, which, as your most irritating General has kindly pointed out, would like me dead. I'm immensely grateful."
Rose snorted despite herself, running a hand over her face and groaning in exasperation.
"What." He snapped, self-conscious.
She shook her head with a sad smile. "I don't think I ever expected you to be so dramatic. Ruthless, merciless, an obsessive zealot; yes. The black humor's a surprise, quite honestly."
"Was that supposed to be some sort of compliment?"
Rose didn't miss a beat. "Would you like it to be?"
At soon as the words left her mouth her stomach did a sort of flip-flop. What the hell was she thinking? She'd got caught up in their conversation; forgot herself. Forgot who she was talking to.
He didn't answer right away, but stood, walking toward the cell door. Rose followed him with her eyes, the way his thin frame barely filled out the pullover she'd found him. His gaze was bright, too; sharp and appraising despite deep, dark circles of sleep deprivation.
She glanced at the empty thermos he was attempting to pass her through the bars, and took it.
"I would caution you in complimenting a monster such as myself," he said, before retreating back to his pallet. "Your friends would think less of you."
Curled in her bunk that night, Rose held her medallion and replayed the day over in her head.
"I left her there."
That look in his eyes. Her words had truly tore him to the bone. She'd only been speaking the truth. Honestly, she'd expected some kind of First Order rationalizing on his part to explain away his feelings. Not… that.
It was just a cat after all, but it was quite obvious by now that he'd bonded to it fiercely.
She rolled over, trying to get comfortable, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body.
After hearing about the Finalizer, the only thing that had really set him off was news about Millicent. Even Poe had misread the situation, thought it had been a woman Hux had been seeing, but there was no woman. There was no one.
And that was it, wasn't it? He simply didn't have anyone else.
The realization felt heavy and hollow in the pit of her stomach.
She wondered if he had any family. Rose knew the stories of how the First Order came to be. She'd heard of his father and knew that he'd died some years ago. Was there really no one else?
Hux had been a top General, so it wasn't unreasonable to assume that he couldn't socialize with the troopers. He was quite the stickler for regulation, so she was sure he wouldn't have snuck around to play sabacc with Officers of lower rank. And knowing the First Order, it was cutthroat enough that he probably couldn't trust those in the upper-ranks either. Pryde had shot him, after all.
What a miserable existence, she thought. The whole First Order, over ten million people at its zenith, and he'd had no one but a cat.
How lonely.
She'd been trying to wrap her head around just what made Hux the way he was.
Brainwashing and isolation? Fear and misconception? All hate came from somewhere.
Could there be something even deeper? Darker?
But Rose knew plenty of people who went through hell and didn't turn out to be mass murderers. Finn, for example.
When Hux arrived, Rose had tried to think of what the Order would do to a Resistance prisoner, and then vowed to do the opposite. She'd tried to think of what they could give him; what kinds of comforts and gestures of good will— within reason— would gain his trust. Leia wouldn't have been content with just wringing out any useful information; it was about the person. What could make Hux trust them enough so that he could understand how wrong his actions had been?
She'd thought they could offer things: blankets, tea, real food, fresh clothes…
Was the answer even simpler than she'd thought?
Just… ease his loneliness?
Her stomach rolled unpleasantly.
The thought of willingly befriending someone who'd done such terrible things made her sick. But in there was a kind of power… wasn't there? Hux had been the architect of all that had taken away so much, but he hadn't been able to take away what made her her.
Rose knew, despite everything she'd seen and suffered through, that she could still love, make friends, laugh at Finn's stupid jokes and cry during episodes of her favorite holodrama. She could understand when she was wrong and endeavored to do better. She could still empathize with Connix's complaints about the food in the canteen and marvel with wonder at all of Rey's new fearsome powers.
Hux and all his machinations hadn't been able to take away what made her human.
"Stealing your enemy's humanity is what makes killing people easier."
So, who had taken his? Or was it just buried so deep that he'd forgotten it had ever existed at all?
Researching Hux's childhood is a terrible pastime. Do not recommend.
Also, please take note that there will be smut towards the end of this story and that the rating will bump up once we get there.
