((Working through some writer's block issues at the moment so thank you for bearing with me and I do apologize if the content is not up to the usual standard.))
"Will you just listen to me?!" Keir charged into the path of the raging bull embodied by his nephew and with no choice but to stop as Resistance milled around him, Poe halted grudgingly and barely spared his uncle a furious and disdained glance. With no verbal nod to continue, Keir bit the inside of his cheek and reminded himself of patience with the younger male; this had happened on his watch, he had to expect Poe's frustration. Ripped from his current job by the sudden alarm and still in his stained and oily overalls, Keir's voice dropped. "She's not in any danger. She's-"
"Not in any danger?!" The discretion that Keir tried to exercise was decimated when Poe almost erupted in his face, scarcely spared the shower of saliva. The others continued their tasks to restore some sort of normality for the children but each one seethed like Poe did. "Look around!" As if the traumatized children of various ages weren't enough, part of the building still smoked from the careless forced entry and the earth sat scorched where Trooper carriers had set down and taken off again. "Of course she's in danger! They took her! What d'you think he's gonna do-?!"
"He's no threat to her." Keir reasoned, significantly calmer but just as urgent. "If I thought he was, I'd be just as worried but-" Poe turned away again, tired of excuses and incompetence and resumed his powerful, irate stride; not without Keir though. "HEY!" The rough seizure of the younger male's jacket went unnoticed by those around them but with a sudden burst of speed and a very rapid shortening of his tether, the mercenary dragged the pilot back and brought them nose to nose.; much to Poe's unnerved surprise. "He poured his heart out to me over the com." The worn, gritted teeth and the exaggeration of flared nostrils demonstrated the limit the smuggler had been pushed to and by his own nephew assuming he knew what was best.
"That so-called 'monster' wept to me as he told me he wanted what was best for her, how much he loved her. So drop the act and listen to me when I know what I'm talking about!" The shove wasn't aggressive as such but Poe's subsequent stumble was still startled as he stepped away without taking his eyes from his uncle. "You have my word." Keir continued, far more amicably as the Commander fixed his jacket. "If we hear nothing by tomorrow at dawn, I'll lead the charge on Finalizer with you myself but 'til then…. Trust her."
"I love you."
"You already said that. Several times." The interrogation chair had become significantly less comfortable but it wasn't for any physical reason, rather by being powerless as he watched her uncertainly pace the dimly lit foot space of the cell. The impromptu question, the one he'd promised himself he would plan meticulously, had slipped out unchecked in a moment of passion that now he bitterly scolded himself for. The General's nervous fidgeting was decidedly uncharacteristic of his usually brazen and collected demeanour but when had that demeanour ever applied to Lucilla? Not for a very long time and it seemed now was no different, despite their absence from each other. Eye contact hadn't occurred since she carefully eased herself from his lap in favour of aimlessly inspecting each of her own footsteps as they were laid in no particular pattern, one after the other against the grooves in the floor that acted as a means to drain away blood. Unable to take the intensity anymore, Hux cleared his throat and attempted to drag the authority back to his tone in place of the dejection.
"Squadrons: Stand down. Assistance not required, situation under control." At least now, they would not be interrupted; especially when it appeared he had been overpowered, Lucilla would have been disposed of for certain. Dolefully, he continued to watch her ignore him; she'd never denied his accusations of having lovers in the Resistance, merely refused to admit it which wasn't the same and the more he waited for a response other than "I love you", the more apparent it seemed to become: He'd been forgotten. That brilliant, logical and victory-driven mind was no use to him here; there was nothing to be conquered or won, he found himself floundering in foreign feelings of rejection and devastation that somehow had never cut that deep on Tatooine. Here she was; alive, well and their hiatus broken but…. There had been no joyous giggling, tears of disbelief and delight or elated kisses as he'd expected an engagement to entail. There was nothing but drowning silences with the occasional (and empty, emotionless) declarations of "I love you", his own swallows and his heart pounding in his ears. She was dishearteningly removed from it all.
"Am I to take that….." He began softly, curling his lips into each other to wet them after they'd dried when she slinked away from him; forcing himself to confront the issue rather than subjecting himself to a pointless and painful loop of the same grating expectancy. "As a no?" Lucilla stopped with her back to him but there was no frantic scramble of denial or reassurance, simply a sedated pause in her wanderings and no intention of turning around to convince him otherwise. The seat of the chair became increasingly hot under him though if it was his imagination or if it was truly the case was beyond him nor did it seem to matter when he sprung free of it to resume her steps for her. The wary half-glance over her shoulder at the swift, sweeping sound of movement slowed the purpose in his tread, as if suddenly aware that he might spook her should he get too close, too soon. No careful breath could ease the thundering in his chest, seemingly the only sound to penetrate the noiseless void of the cell when he asked himself if he really needed her to voice that obvious rejection out-loud. He decided it was necessary. "Lucilla? Little dove, please…."
To add to his torture and perhaps (subconsciously) a degree of guilt, his gloved hand outstretched and ever so carefully coiled into hers with a small, pleading squeeze. Did he expect her to pull away? With her reactions thus far, he wouldn't have been surprised. His little dove, however, continued to surprise him. Instead of pulling herself free and putting as much distance between them as possible, Lucilla's almost defeated close of her eyes and her sigh like a morning breeze made the rejection all the more resounding, despite how she fitted herself into him with scarcely a hair between them. Out of sheer habit, his free arm crossed behind her to keep her close as her forehead sank despairingly to his chest.
"And do what?" The helplessness in that melodic Coruscanti twang had always been one he had hated; he had always prided himself on providing for her and giving her cause to worry about nothing. Needless to say, since Starkiller became ash, that duty had been neglected, nearly detrimentally so to their relationship. "If I was to say yes, what good would it do? You need to be here, I need to be on Yavin 4." To be strong, she ignored the kiss to her forehead and the pained nudge of his nose to her temple but she still opted to listen to his heartbeat as a now forbidden indulgence she had once taken for granted. "You have Stormtroopers, I have children; we have different priorities, Orion, different sides…. We can't-"
"We can." The simple declaration that carried such enormous weight saw the heightening of terrified, watering eyes but his newly discovered conviction didn't allow him to wallow on them. Instead, he decided that enough was enough; to hell with plans and precision and timing, he refused to lose her again. With no rehearsed speech or even notion of one and the rim of his uniform boot pinching his calf, the grip on her hand never relinquished as he lowered himself into the most vulnerable position he could possibly imagine; it wasn't Naboo, rather it was a dingy interrogation cell on Finalizer. It wasn't flawlessly and meticulously planned to the last detail with no expense spared; it was an embarrassing, impromptu mess that he wouldn't dare recount to anyone and it certainly wasn't perfect….. But it was genuine.
"Lucilla Bey…." The General licked his lips in a controlled but panic-stricken manner while his mind scrambled to put sentences together while he gazed up, powerless, at an ashen-faced Lucilla. "More than three years ago, I had no idea that a young woman would board my ship. I had no idea that the cruelty and degradation that she had already endured in her short life was supposed to make mine easier…. but the more I came to learn about her, interact with her and ultimately, came to care for her; I decided that was not acceptable." Shifting ever so slightly on his knee to ease the prodding discomfort, he continued but never took his eyes from hers. "I took great personal pleasure and pride in building her back up, more so than I could have foreseen and within months and several learning curves, she was unrecognizable in the most wonderful way." He braced himself as he applied another coat of saliva, never knowing his lips to dry so fast; he would have to broach the nasty topic of Starkiller and all that followed. How could he expect her to forgive it and maybe even look past it if she didn't know he acknowledged it and was purely repentant?
"I nearly lost her; I did, in fact." He pushed himself on but forced himself to bite back the wave of emotion should it cloud what he needed to say. "And while what I endured can never be compared to what she endured, those few months will be the ones I will never forget and rightly so; had I been the man I should have been, I would have abandoned my mission and rushed to die with her." The pauses were frequent but necessary while he gathered his thoughts to project them properly and thankfully, Lucilla was patient.
"Lucilla…." His throat was clear as he fought to the root of what he truly wanted to say, what he truly thought she needed to hear as his eyes bore into hers. "If you give me this chance, I promise you; you will never go hungry, you will never be cold and I would gladly place my life to buffer you so you do not feel a prick of danger…." Fearful this would not be enough, the General reshuffled his weight for the umpteenth time and brought her hand to his lips (which he was overly conscious of) and battled on. "Little dove, I understand your concerns and I agree, it would not be easy but…. To prove myself and validate everything I have said, my love, I would readily and happily defect if it meant you would be my wife."
"Orion…."
"I will abandon all that I have become, what has and is expected of me; my heritage, my lineage, my breeding. My life's work is nothing if you do not condone it nor can I expect you to so I shan't. I know nothing about children but I am a swift learner and eager to pull my weight in whatever that may be; I will do it all without hesitation if I can retire with you at night and wake up to you each morning. Nothing would give my life greater purpose, little dove, you need to believe that. So…." Out of habit, his thumb brushed gently along her knuckle as his lips wetted once again but the pleading gaze was maintained. "Will you marry me?" The initial reaction was neither verbal nor expected; not when she dropped to her own knees to be even with him and of course, that heartfelt and desperate kiss were returned without reluctance or even thought with their fingers still interlocked. When she drew back, her eyes still watered and her breath was ragged but differently to how they were before.
"I'll marry you."