04. mental link

[exhuxperation]

COMMAND over oneself and others	AMBITION nothing will stand in my way
ORDER chaos will not be tolerated	MANY over the individual

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[narcissithstic]

[This time his wounds are not so immediate, nor are they physical— when Ren moves to find him there's no sign of a scratch nor scrape. Even his robes are mended, he looks more himself than he has in the last month to say the least.

And yet his shoulders sink in their sockets, posture listless and defeated as he stands at the entrance to Hux's quarters, waiting. His brood has slighted him, Cathaway has turned her back; there is nowhere else— noone else left for him but Hux.]

[exhuxperation]

[ It's a footnote that Ren has his coat and robes back when he comes into the room. The unfamiliar image of him in the standard clothing they'd been given seems to fade, replaced by something he's more used to seeing.

Somewhat.

The look on Ren's face is not one he's really seen before. Utter defeat. Hux stops reading the book he'd borrowed from he rec wing, concentrating on the taller figure in his doorway. ]

Are you going to come in? [ The book gets set aside, clearing space of Ren decides he wants to sit on the edge of the bed. ]

[narcissithstic]

[He does not. For all that he craves at the moment— feels the dig of it down to the marrow of his bones, that spiral of need and want and his inability to loose the rigid hold of his own teeth like an animal with a meal between its jaws— straining for closeness isn't one of them. Not here, not with Hux, who so often covets his privacy. Instead, Ren takes a single step closer— two— and then stops completely.

Chews miserably on the start of words he isn't certain how to form.]

I've failed.

[Like a scolded child he twitches where he stands, eyes lowered in an expression he's worn only once before when facing the full bitterness of Snoke's wrath. At the General's side, no less. How ironic.]

[exhuxperation]

[ If it wasn't tense before, it certainly is now. Hux is always a little anxious around Ren, considering how quickly his moods shift. He's gotten used to the outbursts over time, though they still set him on edge. This is...well, it's different from the norm. He watches, guarded, when Ren steps in closer and then stops, still a few feet from him. There's a reluctance to go further, underneath the turmoil of emotion. ]

Ren, you're not making any sense. [ Something is off—he hides the odd surge of worry, aiming to get clarification instead. The downcast look is reminiscent of another place and time, but Snoke isn't here for that expression to have reason. ]

[narcissithstic]

She will no longer speak to me. [There's a tension there, heated and sudden - not anger, not so much as a spark of rage - but brittle enough to snap under the right amount of applied pressure.] She no longer acknowledges me.

[Once he served as the right hand of a man destined to wear the galaxy as a crown; once Cathaway— beautiful and vast in her presence as a conduit for something greater— took him to her side without hesitation. Heir to Vader's legacy, feared and respected, a monster in the hearts and minds of countless men. How much was given to him as a birthright? How is it that after all this time, satisfaction yet eludes him?

Each day more hosts are born to the station. Each day he draws nearer to obsolescence. Decaying. In time, someone else might shake loose the haze of that seemingly endless sleep and rise to take his place at her side instead.


At least Snoke had still wanted him.]

[exhuxperation]

[ The lack of speaking isn't the problem, no. He knows it's the second half– the non-acknowledgement- that really burns. As though a parent has picked their favorite child and is ignoring the other.

Frustration and despair is a flood against his senses, coming from Ren. Questions float there, all asking why. Hux keeps his gaze on Ren's face for a moment before looking away, brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

Of course, he has some theories. Of course, because he has worked with him for long enough to know better. All the same, he isn't sure what he's supposed to say on the matter; he was never very good at placating or comforting. Even when it came to soldiers, Phasma usually stepped in. ]

What's made her change her mind?

[narcissithstic]

[None of it is anything he'd care to speak aloud, he realizes. A belated understanding that has him second guessing his decision to seek out Hux in the first place (what had he hoped to find? To accomplish - already knowing full well that the past is anything but capable of being changed?).

But he possesses more than just the ability to speak, and he has come this far - to turn his back and leave would be a show of weakness, of frailty, and already he stands upon the precipice of it, slipping with every second. So instead Ren reaches for Hux within that narrow space, baring the full depth of his failure: his conflict with Ahsoka, Avera 9, Cathaway's stern instruction in the wake of it, how tired she'd been - how little she cared for his platitudes or promises - the conversation with Nathaniel that followed, sparking a rage Ren couldn't suppress and leading to him damaging the station itself. The way she'd barred him from her only a moment later, rejecting his straining grasp.

Sam reaching to establish a personal connection, leaning on the inherent trust that the symbiotic link within a brood provides, only later attempting to cow Ren by twisting the knife regarding Cathaway's disappointment. A vulnerability he clearly learned of, recognized and employed without a second thought.

That Sam's knowledge of it functioning as a pressure point was a direct result of Hux offering it up freely doesn't occur to Kylo Ren. Steve had witnessed it, after all, when Hux employed it on Avera 9.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Hesitation slides against his senses, waxing and waning as Ren struggles with his indecision. Perhaps he's regretting coming here. Why would he seek any kind of solace from him, after all? They might've worked together, but the forced alliance never brought either of them happiness.

So, he's surprised when Ren opens the floodgates, mind suddenly awash with images and conversations. In the midst of the rush, he's grateful he did it this way– speaking wouldn't convey all the information. Though, that doesn't stop the difficulty of trying to hang onto his own consciousness and thoughts.

When the connection ends, he's gripping the edge of the bed tightly, letting out a slow shaky breath.

He knows where Sam's indiscretion stemmed from. Knows it easily and it feels like a he's being suffocated by the consequence. ]

It wasn't Steve. [ Regardless of his discomfort, he lifts his head, looking directly at Ren, expression skirting unease. ]

[narcissithstic]

[And just like that, Ren's focus narrows to a razor-sharp point. His pupils almost seem capable of thinning to slits in spite of his own humanity - a potent reminder that whatever their allegiances and agreements might be, the man is held together by paper— by thread. Held close to a spark, it'll catch flame in an instant.]

Explain.

[Somehow he already knows.

And for once it has nothing to do with the Force guiding his suspicions.]

[exhuxperation]

[ He doesn't dare to look away. Facing down Snoke was arguably more intensive, even if it were via holo. This, though, this has weight to it. Having to already watch what he says around Ren– it's magnified here.

His pulse seems to run a little faster as he considers his words. ]

Sam asked about you, I answered him. [ Their conversation replays in his mind and he feels a pull of regret for being so cut and dry. Facts were facts, but in the wrong hands... (as he should've known). ]

[narcissithstic]

[At first he says nothing. Doesn't balk, doesn't flinch or ask 'how could you' - he isn't broken hearted; he never assumed they were anything more than allies at best, and at its worst—

It's a return to form.

The General performed only as he could be expected to. In the wake of a series of disasters it comes as a single, solitary pinprick over raw skin. He weathers it. Feels so little his heart beats slow and calloused within his chest.]

So you did.

[Artificial memories cling like a film to the edges of his vision. His voice is low, distant as though the topic at hand has pressed him farther away somehow.]

I suppose I should be grateful.

[exhuxperation]

[ It's a return to himself. Borne out of habit to be as detailed as possible to people when they asked questions. He shouldn't feel strange about it, but he does, stomach churning with unease. Ren's body language says everything but he doesn't know what to make of it. They've had heated discussions before but this is different. Personal.

(Though arguably not as much as their scuffle on Avera 9; time would tell). ]

Grateful. [ Hux echoes it like a question, the sound of his voice hollow even to himself. ]

No. Understanding, maybe. I don't expect either. [ Quite frankly, he's expecting violence. Or silence. It's hard to tell which direction Ren will sway. ]

[narcissithstic]

[Even with the name he once held reduced to ash, even with his would-be father scattered amongst the wreckage of Starkiller, he finds himself exactly where he stood as a child. As a teenager, crushed and ashamed and simultaneously filled with an understanding of what he should have known from the start: he trusted his mother and yet she abandoned him, lied to him, only to have the truth slam home-- that he was the grandson of Darth Vader-- slipped out from someone else's mouth in passing. The Senate in an uproar.

How little she thought of him - how little they both did, his parents.]

If not for you, General, I would never have remembered my purpose.

[exhuxperation]

[ (Something he doesn't know to vocalize yet—there isn't a way to outrun the past, even if it burned to the ground or scattered to the wind).

They both have their paths which have led them here. Perhaps not the circumstance he wouldn't be seen coming, but this is where they stand nonetheless. Hux keeps his gaze on Ren, waiting for anything to tell him what he's getting at. His conversation with Sam had gone a route he hadn't anticipated and now they're both dealing with the aftermath. Mentally, he corrects his own course for the future. Ren might not be his favorite person to work with, but he understands him easier than the rest.

(And sometimes he does think about how he'd be, honed like a fine blade). ]

Which is? [ It likely won't be a good answer. Ren's tone doesn't indicate this will be an easy response to hear. ]

[narcissithstic]

Order.

[So simple a concept. His compass when all else has fallen into tumultuous strife - pressed down into his palms by Snoke's own hand and the only thing that kept him sane throughout the pain, the misery of betrayal and heartbreak. Ren might as well be wearing his mask for how little his expression lets slip.] I allowed my focus to falter.

[The Light, corrupting in its reach, too easily blinding once it takes hold, had once again sunk its teeth into his flesh while his guard was lowered. Without Snoke present to act as a buffer, it was only a matter of time.

Ren's eyeline drifts, darting briefly downwards as if evaluating the man before him as his chin tips that much higher, vitriol boiling across the edge of his tongue.] And I doubt you realized it when you attempted to leash me, but I have your duplicity to thank for undoing the symbiote's work.

[exhuxperation]

[ Isn't this what he spoke about with Sam? That Ren still follows the precepts of the First Order– or rather, at least believes in bringing organization to the chaos around them? This is a thin line, has been for a while, but even more so as he stares up at Ren's expression, so devoid of anything. It reminds Hux of watching oncoming storms from the windows of the academy on Arkanis. Dark, looming.

(Eventually it will pass).

As with all of their interaction, he isn't afraid. No matter how much Ren rages underneath his skin (he has the same if not more).

Hux stands up abruptly, mouth pressed in a thin line, posture rigid. They should want the same thing. This has been the problem since the beginning– Hux has had order impressed upon him since he was a child. Ren? Ren wants order? How is this even close to it, how can't he see the other side? Order doesn't sit in his veins, pressed in even to the point of pain. ]

Order. [ His fingers curl into fists at his sides, the word setting him over the edge. ] Is that what you really want? Have you considered, for a moment, that maybe your broodmates want the same thing?

[ The whole, over the individual. ]

There's no hiding what happened on Avera. Nor should they suffer with the lack of knowledge just because you won't communicate with them. [ It's taken him this long to even garner some semblance of understanding. ]

This might come as a surprise, but none of us want to control you, Kylo Ren, because only fools assume they could do any such thing. You can destroy things with little more than a blink and it took less than five minutes for you to decimate that idiot merchant's guards–

[ And he's personally felt it, in that room when Ren showed him the Finalizer, hanging in his head. The alusteel walls, the sound of Phasma's walk. He bites down on it; Ren had driven the knife into his ribs on their first day, he's returning the favor. ]

–don't you think that might make people question your actions?

[narcissithstic]

[His lip curls, nostrils flaring in an instant - the pivotal turning point punctuating that painfully thin edge Hux is daring to tread. One step, two, and he's closing the distance with oppressive purpose.]

You give them too much credit.

[He does not flinch. He does not blink. In spite of knowing better, pain boils beneath his skin, welling like a blister and the only balm left to him is to share it, to lash out and sink his teeth into vulnerable flesh rather than suffer alone.] Rogers is a frail, broken excuse for a soldier - and yet you cling to him.

[Hux, a man praised for his ability to withdraw into objective, tactical thought, doting on a replacement for what's been lost.] He will disappoint you.

[exhuxperation]

[ This is what he's expected. A return to the norm– sniping at each other is what they know. Has been their habit off and on for the entire time they've worked together.

Hux merely stares up into Ren's face as he steps closer, crowding his space. Ren's not much taller than him but his presence is a storm cloud; dark, dangerous, flashing. He can feel the loop of emotion coming off of him, anger and pain mixed. It knifes through at his words, a reminder of what he's lost.

(And he's lost so much).

He wants so much to spill his words out, an eye for an eye. They said they wouldn't do this, but nothing could stop the self-injury. Swallowing his retort, he looks down and away, an uncharacteristic submission. There's so much he could say, can feel it filling his chest like water in the lungs. ]

Are we going to do this again? [ A strange exhaustion creeps in, everything seeming like more effort than it was worth. ]

[narcissithstic]

[Hux is resigned, capable and dedicated in ways even the most devoted lieutenants could only dream of; Ren doesn't expect to be struck with backlash for his thrashing, desperate blows, but he expects the General's submission even less so. It stills him, stops him in his tracks and cuts the connection to that fevered rage. In its absence, the wounds feel deeper somehow - shame boring in right down to the frailness of his bones, as fresh as the painful snap of Cathaway closing the connection between them.

She hasn't bothered to so much as think of him since.]

No.

[His cheeks prickle with heat, eyes glassy when he drops the set of his stare to mask the fact.

He didn't come here to wage war.]

[exhuxperation]

[ He's devoted to whatever cause he sets his sights on. Currently, he's in flux; his allegiances are not easily swayed. However, he still holds tight to the sense of order, no matter where he is. If that means he has to let down his guard in some cases, then so be it. Their previous argument had been nightmarish and he'd rather not backslide when he made a promise. ]

Ren.

[ Hux never expected to be put in this position. To be simultaneously brandishing a weapon as much as he was trying to dull the blow. His anger seems to dissipate in the face of Ren's emotional sway. ]

You'll get the power you seek. It just may not come from the source you expect.

[ Most things rarely pan out as intended. ]

[narcissithstic]

[There's only a brief moment where Ren's glance lifts long enough to meet Hux's before the line of his profile shifts— angles towards his shoulder, then away to some distant point. His footsteps follow, leading him forward to pace aimlessly around the far edge of the room.

Hux meant the words as a comfort, Ren knows as much - but it feels so stale in his stomach. A sick and withered promise, tainted by every prior interaction that's fallen disappointingly short of the mark.]

Did you know my grandfather is here? [His chest is tight; breathing comes as a strain in light of it, and he wonders if it's somehow a psychosomatic response borne of burying the truth for so long.] Aboard the station.

[exhuxperation]

[ Tension had been just on the edge of uncomfortable, before. Now it's replaced by a sense of uneasiness—Ren's gaze is distant, hard to read. Hux doesn't think he's really seen him like this before. He does, then, what he knows best and waits it out. Eventually, Ren will speak up.

And he does, though it's not a question he'd necessarily seen coming. ]

Anakin. [ Not a query, more of a settling of fact. Everything had been pointing at some strained relationship but he hadn't asked. Whatever was personal to Ren was going to remain that way unless he felt like divulging. Which he is now, even if Hux isn't sure where he's going with this. ]

[narcissithstic]

Darth Vader. [Not Anakin Skywalker, he thinks bitterly, remembering the softness of Anakin's stare as he gazed at Ahsoka. Muddied memories, glimpses in the dark. Only the bruising that had wound itself round Ren's own throat was a promise that beneath the twisted ideals of the Jedi, darkness still lingers.

That there's still a chance to save the man from himself.

Ren's footsteps slow, then still - he stands with his back to Hux, not wanting to meet his companion's stare as realization takes hold.]

[exhuxperation]

[ Abruptly, things seem to fall into place. Clicks in as neatly as the last piece of a puzzle fitting together. Hux had only moderately been interested in Ren's obsession with Darth Vader, but had written it off as a quirk. Just like everything else he did, really. But now, it makes sense.

And it feels like part of his stomach drops out at the realization.

Not because of Vader's legacy– not quite. Of course it's quite the revelation. Vader had been there at the top when the Empire was at its strongest. Alongside Palpatine. Ruling with an iron fist, their influence ran far and wide. It's what he's been aspiring to make happen again, under the banner of the First Order. In a way, it's Ren and his ambitions aligning. Running their parallels closer together than he ever expected.

They both have legacies to live up to. Shoes that he sometimes thinks will never be filled. ]

Expectation will crush you– [ us ] –if you don't keep a clear head.

[narcissithstic]

'A clear head'. [Ren echoes back with a pointed scoff, so close to laughing that even with his back turned it seems like he might. The General is processing information as best as he can, but there's nothing so obvious in that moment as the fact that Hux's perspective is drastically skewed.

They shared thoughts. The pain of an overblown connection and the ever-warring turmoil of the Force itself— Hux might not have intended to underline the very crux of the problem, but he managed it regardless.]

You know as well as I do that's impossible.

[Otherwise Luke Skywalker would have succeeded so long ago. Even Cathaway makes no attempts to directly ease the dogged agony of his existence.]