I once kneeled in shaking thrill
I chase the memory of it still, of every chill
Chided by that silence of a hush sublime
Blind to the purpose of the brute divine
But you were mine
Staring in the blackness at some distant star
The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are
To the wild and to the both of us
I confessed the longing I was dreaming of.
The shuttle had become a double edged sword. It had become a place of imprisonment and a place of shelter. No matter which way he turned on or off the ship, he was tormented. On the ship, her memory dogged his every footstep; even to close his eyes was an unsafe venture with unpredictable results. In the village or outside it; he was recognized as the madman who had shoved his way through the market, roaring at the top of his lungs with the target of one woman in particular. At least he only stood out to the dwellers of the desert village for that and not his title or his crime. But was it worth it? Was it worth it to endure the stares and the murmurs as he walked the streets rather than another bout of torturous seclusion? His confidence had been knocked and when he had retreated again, the guilt resumed its persistent clawing in the sour comfort of where she had once been; the bed, the refresher, the co-pilot seat. And yet, he still found it impossible to convince himself to leave. If he could leave, he could break the vicious indecision in choosing his poison; the shuttle or the village. He could abandon both but something wouldn't let him, something held him and out of frustration, he needed to find out what.
Choices where one option is as lethal as the other can render one procrastinating in making the decision and opting to wallow in something in between that's just as damaging. If anyone knew that, it was General Hux. Did he stay in the brutal safety of the shuttle or try to ease his suffering by attempting to negotiate the village again? What did he have to lose? If he remained, he'd lose his sanity. If he left…. There couldn't be much worse than losing his sanity for a logical being like Orion Hux, he'd rather be dead than mad. And so it was decided with hesitation lurking in the background: He would return to the village.
His old life on Starkiller and Finalizer dictated routine, even Lucilla had fallen into it. Gods, why did everything remind him of her? Even something as vague as routine dragged up unwelcome feelings of defencelessness. If you feel defenceless, imagine how she felt. Those self-accusatory thoughts were more at home on the shuttle but when he braved the first few steps into the sand, he brushed it aside easier with the promise of change. Four days had passed since the incident at the market and isolation had been his solution but no more. He had tried to retain the pattern by returning the day after but whispers and glares drove him back. He now realized it was either the shuttle at the mercy of his own mind or the benign gossip of the villagers, he chose the latter. Now more than ever he was more determined to find the pull to this random place.
He ignored the strange look of the waitress who served him and granted him his usual caf and cheap breakfast pastry; no doubt she had heard as well, the community was small and close knit, he doubted there was no one who didn't know. The usual seat at the usual time of the morning while the market began to rise from the sand, he would be one of the first browsers; he always was. The morning became the afternoon with the sweltering sun rising higher in the sky; as much as he loved and took great pride in his uniform, he was silently grateful for the cream linen shirt and the airy green trousers to keep him cool. The ritual was the same as before he came dangerously close to exposure amongst the crowded stalls that day which disheartened him but despite the throbbing heat, Hux kept walking. It happened so slowly, the change of his surroundings, that he almost didn't realize how heads no longer turned when he passed, how conversations remained unaltered by his brief presence; he didn't notice that he wasn't noticed.
When the General finally looked up, the surroundings of the taunting town had melted in favour of a darker place that chilled him, despite never being there or seeing it before. There were no cafes like where he had his breakfast on a daily basis, there was a market but not like the one in the main square where the produce was legal. Unnerved but curious, Orion kept on with uncertain steps as he approached the ominous stalls with perverse items on display, each one more sinister than the last. Weapons varying in size and range adorned one stall, all illegal he assumed. On the next, he felt his breakfast rise in his throat when faced with a number of jars, each one dedicated to a different organ; some human, some not. He moved on from it quickly to another where the corpses of diverse species of animals hung with parts missing, no doubt unlawfully hunted and dismembered as lucky charms and unproven medicine.
He didn't have much to take but, of course, the newcomer was watched by a number of pickpockets and con artists. The redhead stood out like a sore thumb but for the most part, he was ignored; it seemed it was unspoken code that no one was seen at this particular market. In something of a morbid curiosity, his feet paced and his eyes scanned the stalls and their disgusting wares; needless to say he had no intention of buying anything or even lingering too long on a specific stall should he be noticed. Aside from ordering his breakfast every morning and the mistaken identity of that unfortunate woman, he had not spoken to anyone on Tatooine. That was about to change.
"See anything of interest to you, good sir?" The malevolent purr of a one eyed old man made Hux look up, almost alarmed at being addressed in such a foreboding place; it was polite but menacing all the same.
"I… No, thank you. Just…. Browsing." Fighting to keep his voice even and confident, Orion nodded his thanks and went to move from the stall.
"Are you alone, sir?" A bone of contention. The question seemed harmless and he convinced himself that in the best interest of his safety that rudeness would not be wise. A direct result of that was a half-hearted saunter closer to the stall where the elderly male watched him like a predator.
"I am. I lost my companion some time ago, I can't even begin to recall how long."
"Sudden?"
"Very much so, yes."
"Ah well, you need company then. A man like you shouldn't be alone." In the many slots underneath the beaten wood of the counter where fresh stock waited to replace the old; the man poked around, muttering to himself while he looked for something specific. Unsure if he should take the distraction to slip away or not, Hux's decision was stalled and rendered invalid when the man straightened (as much as possible but not fully) and stretched out a withered hand, holding out something for the younger man to take. Intrigued, the General accepted the item he then realized was a piece of paper. On it was some alien scrawl that Hux could not understand and the confusion must have shown in his face. "You see that tavern over there?" That beady eye settled on a worn building in the corner, causing the newcomer to turn around and follow his gaze. "Take that, show it to the whoever is on guard. He'll grant you entry and take it back. But remember…. You were never there."
He took that as his cue to leave. He stopped several metres from the stand to examine the card, it was a ticket to illicit and illegal activity, no doubt. Paper and cardboard were rare, disposable. Technology like his data pad was lasting and the way of the future but…. Trackable. This, however, wasn't. No fingerprinting, no user interface, anonymity almost guaranteed. Who would have thought using something so primitive and obsolete would be the key? And it would be reused and reused. Who knew how many had used it before him and how many after him? The distraction of the piece of paper masked its implication. The man spoke of company, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. How long was she gone? What would she have said if she knew he indulged in someone else for an hour, an evening or a night? Swallowing, he tried not to dwell on it and somehow, it didn't feel as wrong as it probably should have. The male of a species he didn't recognize stood on guard at the door as promised and snatched the ticket when it was held out to him.
"Downstairs." He was told with a growl and Hux obeyed. The bite of reluctance was almost physical as he paused at the top of the stairs; the steps were swallowed by darkness save for the licking of mounted torches that only seemed to stretch so far. Something pushed him mentally to continue and before he could question it, one step was followed by another and then another and another; down into the shadowed belly of the beast.
Hux wasn't sure what he expected when he got to the bottom of the steps though the small stage, the scatterings of tables and chairs with several males speaking in hushed tones and the low lighting; it fitted into his assumption of a gentleman's club. Again, sceptical of mixing, Hux found himself a table in the corner, out of the way of everyone else and sat but unsure of what to expect. He presumed a show? A performer of some sort? A strip tease, perhaps? His surroundings certainly suggested something of a seedy nature. Maybe it stretched to a brothel too? The smell of smoke was unignorably strong and stuck to everything, the source being a number of men who carelessly sucked on cigarras with little regard for those around them. The security was heavy; several burly males prowled the worn and stained maroon carpet with the intention of keeping patrons in line but something was yet to happen. His attention diverted to the stage; small, wooden, empty. This establishment must have been underfunded though what could have been expected if entry was free and only at the discretion of an old man at a stall?
Hux's expectations began to shift and his features fall into concern when the men around him started to take to their seats and the lights above the stage flickered into life. Instead of an attractive female taking to the stage, the wood creaked under the feet of a middle aged man, perhaps ten years older than Hux himself. He was almost out of place in the sleazy surroundings dressed in his finery that Orion couldn't even begin to price. Perhaps he was the club owner? Maybe he was introducing a new act? The ice of the redhead's eyes flickered to his anonymous companions and they appeared to have settled as if this man was the one they waited for, not a scantily clad young lady.
"Gentlemen!" The booming confidence and almost friendliness bounced off every surface to the adoring hollers and whoops of the men in the audience, only Hux remained silent; something wasn't right. "My friends! You won't believe the pieces I have for you here tonight! I have exotic creatures from all corners of the galaxy, all species and types! Dargo-" He seemed to address one man in particular, as if he knew them all by name. "I got what you asked for, I hope you'll be pleased!" He paused for a moment and rubbed his chin, as if to keep his loyal followers in suspense to hang on his every word. "A few months ago, something magnificent was given to me, I just couldn't pass it up. I paid a fair price for it but when you see it, I think you'll agree that what I'm asking for it is more than fair. Truth be told, I'm tempted to keep it for myself! But I'll tell you more about that later. The usual rules apply; you know what to do! Happy bidding!" The introduction was short and sweet but the charisma of the male seemed to be known to the audience. Hux was still ignorant of the nature of this gathering. Bidding? An auction of some sort? When the screaming started from somewhere off stage, the terrible reality began to sink in and only then did Hux realize where he was and what he was attending: A slave auction.
The urge to get up and run to the stairs seemed to bellow in his ears but Hux couldn't move. Frozen in horror and stuck to the chair by some invisible force, the first lifeform was dragged on; a rather small Twi'lek, possibly only still in her teens. Immediately, the room erupted. Roared bids flew towards the stage, while the unnamed male listened with an eyebrow cocked and a smirk playing on his lips; presumably he was waiting for an offer he liked. Meanwhile, the little Twi'lek had crouched down on the stage and to look at her was to put a meaning to the word 'petrified'.
"Come on, gents! I'm asking for four thousand units! She's young, she's fit, still intact, admittedly she's unspayed but mention my name to Bakop just outside of town and he'll slice the price! That goes for all but one of what I have tonight so come on! Four thousand, let's go!"
How could Hux not drawn the disturbing parallel? How could he watch that tiny Twi'lek and not feel a squirm of pity when every move she made was restricted by the chain around her neck? Had that been Lucilla at some point? Even the outfit was familiar; the two strips, one covering the front and one covering the back with a brass plate secured over each breast. Perhaps it was the light, but Orion could have sworn he saw the light speckling of bruises dusting the Twi'lek's pale blue skin, her sobbing was almost drowned out by the bidding; as if this circus wasn't already horrendous enough. More disturbing though, why couldn't be bring himself to leave? He would have preferred to believe himself above such a practice, as a more prideful human being than shouting a price for another sentient creature like cattle at a market, a comparison Lucilla had once made.
The Twi'lek was heaved off the stage when the price of four thousand units was met and even exceeded for her new master to examine her; the whimpering didn't seem to bother him though it seemed she didn't dare do anything that might change her fate for the better. The next female was a Devaronian. Covered from head to toe in white fur and while she was slightly more dignified than the Twi'lek, the edges of fear in her were undeniable. The bidding exploded again and with the louder they got and the closer to her desired price, the Devaronian began to unravel. She too was whisked to the edge of the stage and down the rickety steps to be inspected and the pattern seemed to continue though Hux had sunk too deep into revulsion but incapable of moving to watch anymore. The ones he had seen, the Twi'lek and the Devaronian were both female, small in stature and rigid with terror; he could only assume the rest would be the same. He sat there in a world of his own for an unspecified length of time, disgusted by his innocence and his logic that had led him there.
"Gentlemen, I promised you something special." The clean cut and dapper male left a goading pause while he paced the stage, almost as if searching for the appropriate words. The teasing worked as the males around him appeared to be even more on edge, having abstained from purchasing sooner to see what the 'something magnificent' was and if it would tickle their fancy. Hux lifted himself from his stupor, did he dare look up and therefore intensify his abhorrence? The atmosphere in the room became heavy with intrigue and anticipation as the male revelled in the effect he had cast on the room. "A very generous, anonymous albeit expensive donor came to me with something irresistible some months ago. Beautiful, shy, broken…." He waited and relished the excited silence that followed, the power of that alone inflated an already swollen ego as they hung on his every breath and casual step. "And the only known survivor of Starkiller Base, supposedly the property of the General."
As if listening to something under water, he couldn't be sure he heard it all. A lethargic blink and an inclination of his head to the stage; as if in slow motion, a flurry of black curls was shoved under the spotlight. The accompanying alabaster body hit the floor with a thud and an agonized shriek; for a moment, he froze. The eerie clinking of the chains around her neck and wrists seemed to be the only thing he could hear, as if his eyes and ears had zoned in on her and only her, excluding the predictably riled roars. The outfit was the same as the others he had seen before he tuned out, sitting there in despair until now. As if his system had suddenly been jolted awake by being dumped in icy water, he knew that sobbing; it had plagued his sleep and now it dogged his wakefulness. With his seat too far back from the stage, it seemed irrelevant that he couldn't see her face. The hair, the stature, the terrified whimpering; he knew it all so well but it couldn't be….. It couldn't be Lucilla.
Dumbfounded and motionless, the bidding happened without him even though he was surrounded by it and in the thick of it. All he could do was watch the terror-stricken creature cowering on the stage and while all the factors pointed to his beloved's survival, he couldn't accept it. The man had said months…. Who knew only her what she had been subjected to since Starkiller exploded? How had she gotten off? Guilt rose like bile in his throat again when it occurred to him that maybe…. Just maybe, she would have been better off as he had believed her: Dead. As if something had snapped within him, he looked around in desperation as the bidders attempted to drown each other out and end it as quickly as they could with their own bid. He had little to bid and whatever he did have, it wouldn't be enough but he couldn't leave her again.
"Twenty thousand, gents! I won't accept a unit less! She's already spayed, no excuses!" Twenty thousand…. Over half her original price. "But I wouldn't put it near her mouth without a blaster to her face! Sometimes there are little sparks of life!" Sickeningly flabbergasted by the throwaway comment that the others seemed to find rip-roaringly amusing, Hux scrambled to his feet that didn't seemed to want to work. Legs like jelly and his stomach barely containing its contents, he gripped the table for support while his helpless mind tried to calculate his options. He couldn't bid, he had nothing to do so with and even if he did, panic set in when the bidding drew to a close with exclamations of disappointment and outrage. The General skirted the table with the edge of it still in his sweating grasp and he barely reminded himself to let it go but his latest glance to the stage rendered him even more disturbed than before. He looked up just in time to see her on her knees, her face in her hands and the chained collar around her neck being mercilessly yanked to be hauled away; she would no doubt be punished for the half-hearted resistance she tried to put up.
"Lucilla….." Nothing else seemed to be able to cross his lips. His tongue would only form one reverent word and it was: "Lucilla." The seedy pilgrimage between chairs and tables began as a man obsessed and heartbroken attempted to navigate the club towards the stage without a plan. Autopilot had worked for him before, getting him from one place to another; in fact, it had gotten him to the second market that had gotten him here. But to move mindlessly with so much at stake could only end in more devastation. His only option now was to follow and wait for an opportunity. And opportunity for what, he couldn't be certain but when she was taken and lead away, he took the chance and followed quietly. Slowly and silently, he skulked after the milky, exposed back and tried to ignore the trembling and sniffling that grated at him.
Like the staircase that had brought him in, the tunnel out to a landing strip above was dark save for the intermittent torches secured to the grimy, damp walls. The light at the end appeared to be miles away but the unmistakeable sounds of chains and bare feet turning up earth with every step combined plucked at his indignation – his precious Lucilla being subjected to such degrading treatment would enflame his wrath. His listlessness was wearing off with every micro-sound from the female ahead of him until he could take no more; his advantage came to a head in Lucilla's new 'master' being too taken with his purchase to realize they were being stalked.
With a sudden burst of energy, white hot jealousy and aggression, Hux broke into a bound. In seemingly one movement, he shoved Lucilla aside to a brief scream, grabbed the chain between her neck and her master's hand and before he could turn around to investigate, felt the length of metal links closing in around his throat. Everything seemed to stop bar the tightening of Hux's hands, how he wound the chains around them and pulled and pulled until the blood started to seep, the eyes started to bulge and the last gasping, scrambled breath was extinguished. With a swallow his adversary would never take again, Hux let the chain fall loose and for a moment, he almost forgot why he was there, why he had killed someone literally with his bare hands. Stepping away without a tickle of remorse, he turned again as if haunted by the last time he thought her saw her; he'd never forget those eyes. But there she was, recoiled and looking up at him as terrified as when she was dragged on stage.
"Lucilla…." In an instant, he'd dropped to his knees with a complete overhaul in his demeanour and crawled agonizingly on stones and grit until he was even with her. Her frail face was gently grasped, one soothing hand cradling each cheek with care while relief fluttered unabated in his chest. The pair seemed to stare at each other; after months apart and tortured separately in different ways, it couldn't possibly be real, to be reunited in the most random of places and under the most remarkable circumstances. It took her a moment of despairingly searching his face and her name softly, repeatedly whispered for her to remember, for her to recognize him. The beautiful incredulity came when her comprehension shocked her system and the swift swing of her arms around his neck in the most blissful pressure he believed would never grace him again.
"I'm here…." The crack in his voice deepened at the first thankful heave of her chest against his, as she subsided into the first bout of sobs since she left the cavern. "I'm here, you're alright…." Her grip tightened as his arm slipped under her knees and lifted her, despite the strain on his weakened frame. Her weeping continued all the way up the tunnel and out of sheer astonished gratitude, he didn't comfort her further; purely to let her express and safely exhibit whatever trepidation that had almost happened. The walk back to the shuttle passed without notice and Lucilla's weight (which was significantly less than he remembered) was feather light in his urgency to get her away from a potentially dreadful situation (not that he couldn't be assured that what she had already endured hadn't been dreadful).
She was laid on their bed where she unravelled all over again and only then would he begin to see the extent of the trauma. He left her for a maximum of a minute while he hurried to the pilot's console, set the coordinates to anywhere but there and waited for the stability of take-off. With that secured, he traipsed back to her, almost guiltily and curled up with her back to his chest and a comforting arm draped across her waist. The smell of berries had long since died when he nestled his nose apologetically into her hair but it was of little concern to him, it was almost petty to notice it and dwell on it for any length of time; not when she was like this. Every defeated sniffle fractured him and whittled him, even more frustrating when there seemed to be little course of action he could take when her responses were so minimal.
"You're safe now." He tried to affirm to her though he didn't believe the edge in his own voice. Their future was uncertain; he would be hounded now and by association, she would be a target. Even with all that in mind, he continued with as much conviction as he could muster. "I promise I won't leave you again."