A/N: By the end of this, Hux has just about had enough of Snoke and the fucking Force.

"Three days, sir." That was how much the schedule had slipped, an event which had caused Snoke to call him to his audience chamber on the Eclipse.

"Any excuses you wish to tender?" Snoke sounded bored, like this was expected and routine. Perhaps to him, disposing of unsatisfactory underlings was routine. Or maybe just disciplining him.

"No," Hux said crisply. He was resigned to whatever might happen. He didn't know what he could have done better, nor did he have ideas at the moment as to how to improve. If he were allowed the opportunity, he would certainly try new things. Maybe Drewmill could help him with ideas. She might relish the opportunity to tell him where he'd gone wrong. Or even Boxbea, who would be friendlier, and had extensive experience in project management. "It was my responsibility to keep the project moving as it should. I failed."

"So you did."

With that, he was flung against the wall by that infernal power Snoke wielded so easily. It felt like he was lacerated, like his skin was split and peeled off of him. Hux looked urgently to either side of his outstretched arms, expecting to see shredded clothing and spattering blood – but there was nothing. The pain was another illusion, he realized. A mind trick. All in his head.

"Is it?" Snoke asked, and shuffled a few steps closer, leaning forward inquisitively like Hux was finally doing something interesting.

The pain did not stop. It spread, seeping along his limbs like acid, lighting him up in the worst possible way inside. He could hardly breathe. His hands writhed, trying to throw off the sensation. The rest of him squirmed, trying to get away but there was no escape. He couldn't even touch the floor. He was stuck to the wall as though affixed by his lower back. The rest of his limbs were no longer restrained, but there was nothing he could do with them. He balled his fists and tried to still himself to keep some level of composure.

"Make it stop, then," Snoke invited him mockingly. "Show me that you are the master of what you feel, of what you are. Focus your will and end this exercise of mine!" Snoke gave a sinister laugh.

Hux could barely think, but he refused to give in. He refused to let go and dissociate from the pain like he always had before. He stayed in it, believing with every fiber of his soul that this torment was fake and he could beat Snoke on this. He would not be taken in. He would not be tortured by his own mind. His being, his thinking, it belonged to him and not to Snoke. Not to anyone but himself.

It didn't make a whit of difference.

Snoke chuckled off-handedly. "I thought not. It would be a difficult feat even for an adept, which you are not. You are blind. Almost willfully so, though I must confess that suits my purpose." Through this dialogue, the assault on Hux's senses did not relent. Hux paid little attention to the words. He only knew he was being disrespected, again, for failing at something he had no idea how to do, or even if it could be done.

He grit his teeth, clenched everything he had, and tried again to expel the fictitious agony. He had the determination. He had the willpower. He had the desire. He tried with brute force until his heart thundered in his chest and his lungs burned. He flushed. He sweated. He ached. But it was still there. Everywhere. Every nerve ending. Every part of his brain. Pain. He was frying. Sizzling. Dying.

He gave up. But then … Snoke did not release him. When Hux realized the torment wasn't ending along the time scale he was used to, what he had subconsciously expected, he panicked and broke. With his voice shaking in a disgusting display of fear, he babbled, "What do you want then? I will give it to you! Anything! I'll cooperate. I'll submit. Whatever, whatever …"

He struggled against the force holding him, desperate now and uncoordinated. It was just as useless – fear was no better at breaking him free than anger and hope. He was at Snoke's mercy, which he knew there was none of. Scenes flashed through his head – others Snoke had killed, or hurt, or times when Snoke had hurt Hux with such callous disregard that Hux knew there was no way to placate him. He knew why Pabril had reached for his blaster at the end, although Hux had no intention of doing so. No, wait, he might be able to use it on himself … He remembered how much he'd despised Halcor for the same. It stopped that line of thinking in its tracks.

Every man had a breaking point. Brendol had drilled that into his son. It had been reinforced by others – Tritt Opan, an imperial interrogator who would know, and those whom Brendol or Tritt had tortured to death before him as a part of Armitage's education. He'd ended up feeling sorry for those people, angry at them for letting it come to this. He wasn't angry at them for groveling or pleading at the end because his father had told him that was the natural state. So when he felt himself break down in front of Snoke, it wasn't himself that he blamed. He already knew he was weak inside.

He hated Snoke even more at that moment – a deep, pure, revulsion that the creature wanted this sort of abasement from him, had pushed him to the point of considering, even for a moment, such dishonorable escapes. If Snoke did not want him to be a sniveling coward cringing before him, then he shouldn't be treating him this way. It was Snoke's fault; not Hux's. Snoke grimaced, lips pressing together in distaste and disappointment. Hux was dropped to the floor.

He shuddered uncontrollably, his brain still running circles in the mode of abject servility. "Whatever you want, I will-"

"No, you will not," Snoke snapped at him irritably. "You have already given me everything you are capable of. Haven't you? Or have you been holding back?"

"No!" Hux yelped. "Everything." He felt Snoke rip through his mind with the usual careless disregard for his victim's side of the experience, then withdraw his presence from Hux's head with the same indifference.

"If you had more to offer, then I would take it. But you do not, because you are pathetic." Snoke started to walk away. "Barely worth using and not while you're like this." He sounded disgusted.

"Yes sir."

Snoke turned back fast enough that Hux flinched and crouched lower, eyes wide. He had no idea what he'd just done or said that was wrong … or thought (he scrambled back through his thoughts but there had been nothing offensive in them as far as Hux knew). Snoke rolled his eyes, an affectation he'd picked up in the last few years, and headed off once more to his seat.

Hux was left kneeling on the floor. His hands were shaking. He balled them into fists again, feeling his nails cut into his palms. His breathing was uneven and his chest felt like there was a huge knot inside, like he wanted to be sobbing but his body had forgotten how to do it. All for the best, he thought. Crying was for babies. It was beneath him, he hoped.

He put his hair back in some semblance of order. He was glad he'd emptied his bladder immediately before this audience. It had been prudent. He hoped the medications he'd taken would address the expected nausea and other issues. If he had not survived, then it wouldn't have mattered, but on the chance he would, he'd wanted to be prepared. He reviewed these things in his mind, trying to reassure himself that he'd done the best he could.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next. Rise? Stay? Leave? Wait for instructions? Snoke wasn't looking at him, but seemed still conscious and present. That was dangerous. He doubted Snoke had obtained the emotional release he needed to dissipate his wrath. Maybe this was a test? If so, Hux could prove himself by properly anticipating what Snoke wanted. Which he had little idea of.

Or did he?

Snoke wanted performance out of him. He always had, from the start. Pushing Hux past his breaking point had resulted in Snoke dropping him and retreating. It was tempting to think he'd been dropped because the begging worked, but that didn't fit with the rest of his experience of Snoke. It was the 'sir' that had caused the creature to spin back, Hux guessed. Perhaps he'd thought it was mocking. When he'd realized it was not … there was no punishment.

These things Hux strung together in his mind as he attempted to find logic in his world, to impose rationality to it, to learn to predict it, and thereby, gain some measure of control. He did not like being reduced to this state – his body in rebellion, his thoughts scattered, his emotions disordered. It made it difficult to work. If he couldn't work, then he couldn't accomplish his mission. Also, as a side note, he would be useless to Snoke and that truly would be the end of him.

He swallowed down the retch he wanted to make, then got to his feet. He forced his legs to cooperate and stiffened his spine. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, so crossed them behind himself and held one wrist tightly with the opposite hand. He took a few centering breaths and moved forward properly with decent posture. "Will there be anything else, Leader Snoke?" His voice trembled so much the words slurred, but it was the best he could manage at the moment.

Snoke sounded annoyed, which confirmed for Hux that Snoke had not received what he needed. "The lesson I was attempting to instill in you is not the one you have taken from this. The Force is not a thing you can wish away. It is not an illusion. So long as you think of it as such, you will never appreciate its power. It is the galaxy, this coarse existence – which is the only one you know – that is the farce." Snoke gave him a long, penetrating look.

Hux licked his lips nervously. He wasn't sure what to do with this information, but clearly Snoke was waiting for his response. "Your power is not an illusion." Snoke kept looking at him, so Hux went on, "None of your powers are illusions or mind tricks. They all … happen. In the real world. They are not lies – not like the lies of the Jedi."

Snoke stared at him a bit more, but ultimately, he seemed mollified by the favorable comparison to the perfidious Jedi. "That is a sufficient understanding of it. To answer your question – rectify the schedule. If I find your efforts to be insufficient, then I will come to the planet myself to investigate the reasons for your continued failure."

"Yes Leader Snoke." He didn't use 'sir'. He also didn't blurt out that he had no idea why things hadn't gone off perfectly except that it was too much to expect them to go off perfectly. His team was tired. Hux was tired. They had been more than three years on this. Everything was a constant state of panic and high priority.

Although no one who worked directly for him had complained, he was getting a reputation as a slave driver. The personnel office had issued him repeated, pointed 'suggestions' that he take leadership training courses and discourage the very double shifts that had gotten them this far, this fast. He didn't have time for that. He felt like he didn't have time for anything anymore. Aside from work and what little sleep he was able to get, he didn't do anything. Maybe that was the problem?

Hux turned and headed out, trying to feel something about the idea that Snoke might personally involve himself in Starkiller – panic, urgency, fear even. He just felt numb. Depressed. He needed to go somewhere quiet and dark and let himself recover. Then … he would pull his thoughts together and it would be back to work.