[ It's all falling to pieces; so much of it quite literally as the world shakes and trembles all around him, roaring in his ears. His defeat at the hands of the scavenger rubs salt in the wound, and there is blood in his mouth, the agony of the crossbow bolt slammed into his side giving him strength as much as it saps him.
She won on multiple handicaps -- she wouldn't have had a chance if he truly meant to kill her, but all of this means nothing in the wake of the chaos and the spectacular failure of all their plans. Starkiller has fallen, disintegrating before their eyes, and a part of him wonders at how heartsick the General must be, that his life's work has fallen before him.
He struggles to stand, pounding on the wound as his jaw sets. Pain, pain is what gives him strength (even as it wanes, sticky blood soaking his robes), and he will not fall. The aching torment of Han Solo's face is pushed away, denied, as is the heartache and agony endured in the shreds of his old self. He killed his father in cold blood, and he wonders if this is what power really feels like (like everything dirty has made its home inside of him and threatens to turn him inside out).
He doesn't care. He must not. It was a test and he passed, and that is all that matters.
Kylo struggles to walk, leaning against a tree as blood continues to spill. He tastes copper in his mouth as he forces himself forward, furious with his weakness. He hears voices and machines, the faraway sounds of people searching for him, calling his name -- the familiar white of the stormtrooper regiment glimpsed among the trees.
He's here, too, the General; the only one man he will allow to find him.
Here, He says in his mind, fighting exhaustion; makes sure to show Hux what he's seeing. They have wounds of their own to nurse, and their men must not see. ]
[ It's all falling to pieces and Hux can feel parts of himself going along with the planet. As the ground heaves underneath their feet, he shudders, stomach doing flips. Anxiety is high, anger even moreso. And underneath of it all, a self disgust. A despairing part of himself wants to stand amidst the chaos, to scream out his failure and let the planet consume him alongside itself.
Generals go down with their ships, typically. Isn't that so?
Only he can't. No, won't. This is a bitter pill to swallow, especially on the heels of such enormous triumph. The galaxy was one step closer to perfect order. To solutions. To an end of war, struggle, poverty. What the New Republic had left in its wake with its extravagance and inaction. Giving up now, when the fight was half won, it would be weakness. So as Snoke gives his order to find Kylo Ren, Hux lets the numbing sensation of shock wash over him, expression eerily placid. He's near by the wayward Force user, his tracking device indicating distance in closer and closer increments.
A particularly violent shiver of the earth ripples through and he clutches to a nearby tree, steadying only long enough to get his legs underneath him again. Glancing up, he sees him. The Jedi Killer– for once, Hux is relieved to see him. He stands out stark against the white and grey of the forest, dripping blood and cutting an intimidating silhouette even through his injured state. Hurrying, he snaps out orders to nearby troopers over his comm; target acquired, prepare ship for immediate take off and for gods sake alert medical on board the Finalizer.
Long strides take him to Kylo Ren's side, where he immediately offers a shoulder to lean on. ]
Let's go, just up here. Stay with us or the shock will set in too deeply.
[ I'm fine, he wants to snap, pride bruised when he sees Hux come to him, a familiar shape amidst the brittle chaos. But the words are trapped in his throat, and when he tries to stand on his own, he finally stumbles, his arm looping around the General's solid shoulders.
He growls to himself, a sound of frustration and disgust, and perhaps it's Hux's overwhelming emotion that bleeds into him as well. He fights to focus on the sound of his voice, leaning against him. It stings, being this weak; but there is nothing to be done for it right now, when all his strength is channeled into staying upright.
Hux is the only one welcome within the perimeters of his personal space, an unconscious force-field keeping out the others who dare to stray too close.
It doesn't take long before they make their way to the Finalizer, the barrier faltering to allow the medical team close; but Kylo doesn't let go of Hux, not willingly. There are too many broken pieces, too much to hold on to, and the General is the one stable thing in the storm that circles him.
The doctor murmurs quiet instructions, setting off to Kylo's private quarters, flanked by the medical team -- he refuses to let them close, a wolf wounded and likely to lash out, subconsciously seeking comfort from the presence of the one man he allows closer than others. He's cut off too much today, and all that's left is --
-- he doesn't know what this is. Not anymore. Stay with us, Hux says, and he does. He must. ]
[ Pride is something he can understand. His own is in tatters at the current moment, but he’s swallowing it in the process of staying alive. Of making sure that Kylo Ren does as well. Returning to Snoke empty-handed would easier, but it would damn his career. Moreover, he does not do failure well or easily.
Neither of them do, really. The other man is growling low, a rough sound that would normally have people turning in fear. Hux has grown used to his temper. Moreover, there’s more at stake here than how the other man currently feels about his situation. Eventually, he feels the deeper press of weight on his shoulders as Ren leans on him more heavily. It’s not a long way to the ship and once boarded, he gives command to pull up the docking door and leave. The last thing any of them would want is to get stuck in the gravitational pull of an imploding planet. As it was, they were risking it by still being planet-side as it shuddered in its death throes.
Everything lurches when the ship takes off and he busies himself with trying to stem some of the bleeding on Ren’s side. In places, it’s difficult, since the Force-user seems reluctant to let go. Perhaps, he thinks, it’s about stability. Keeping himself upright.
Time is fast and slow all at once. The crew onboard the Finalizer greets them, medical standing by as ordered. A faint note of pride sings somewhere in his mind– they’re doing so well in the middle of a crisis. That thought is pushed away to focus on the ruckus that Ren is kicking up, refusing to have attention paid to him by the medical staff. Hux feels his anger welling up. Why now? Why is he intent on acting like a child? It must be the shock. The pressure has finally made him snap. Cool headed as always, the doctor takes it in stride, doling out his own set of orders. With no other choice left, considering he's locked in the steely grip of Kylo Ren himself, he follows the medical team to a more personal room in medbay.
Once there, it's a clinical dressing down. Stripped bare, a concoction of medicines (this for pain, for numbing, for sedation). Through it all, he keeps his lips pressed thin, a reassuring presence nearby as he oversees. The amount of blood is distressing and he feels like he'll be sick, but exhaustion keeps him from it.
Hours pass and finally, finally, a tenuous stability is found. Hux is slumped in a close chair, shoulders bending inwards, back curving under the aching tiredness that runs through him. ]
[ Kylo Ren loses track of time, steeped in the whirlwind of his own thoughts, fighting not to descend into shock as he's attended to, taking in the occasional bursts of pain as they work to patch him up. The copper tang of blood is thick in the air, and he only moves when they try to erase the scar left by Rey's lightsaber. Even through his sedation he is lucid, aware of Hux's hovering presence, unwilling to admit that the man plays at least a small part in keeping him somewhat amenable.
He thinks of all that's unfolded, the test he's passed (so how come it feels like he's failed?), the struggle between the light and darkness, on everything that he draws on to fortify himself. He has a destiny to rise towards, to finish the work his grandfather began and ultimately failed. He is a product of that failure, he knows. But he will not make the same mistake twice.
Kylo refuses painkillers, agreeable only to the sedation. Pain, he knows, is nothing to be feared; and in sedation-lined agony there is a certain clarity of thought, of focus. He sees Han Solo's face, and perhaps the ultimate death of who he used to be before he was Kylo Ren. He remembers the howl of anguish from the wookie, and had done nothing to stop the bolt from tearing him another new hole (perhaps he had thought he deserved it).
Hours pass, and when the doctor finally leaves them both, he turns his head to study Hux. The General looks smaller now when he's hunched over, less imposing in his weariness and their shared failure. Kylo is acutely aware of the fact that he didn't have to be in here with him, that most of Hux's command had not been on the ground, in the thick of battle, but always above; planning and executing. He can practically taste the distress coming from the man, no matter how he excels at hiding it.
Still, there is nothing to be done for it now, save to regroup and try again -- no empire is without its setbacks. He finally speaks, mouth dry. ]
[ What occurred to Kylo Ren is still a mystery. Of course, he can take a few educated guesses. There had clearly been a fight of some sort. A struggle. Perhaps that girl had been involved (something tells him this is true). He's tempted to ask, to hear it all from beginning to end. Because knowing is better than not. If he needs to plan around something, knowledge is the first step.
Even though the mere thought of plotting anything makes him feel strangely unhinged. Stretched too thin and shock digging deep. As he sits in this chair, not even noting how uncomfortable it is, Hux stares off towards the ground. All over it feels like his limbs are leaden, that the air is stifling. Out of the corner of his eye, he can tell Ren is staring. Studying. What does he see? Hux almost doesn't want to imagine, because he's having difficulty swallowing his own presence at the moment.
Something broke when Starkiller fell to pieces, only he's much too tired to acknowledge it. His crew needs more orders, he should be on the bridge, should be figuring out their next course, should– ]
[ Hux is a raw, open wound; he might not be injured but his thoughts bleed through so much pain that it's impossible for Kylo to pick up on. He's hurt in ways that doctors cannot mend, and while Kylo will never (even under pain of death) admit to any measure of sentimentality he has for the man, while he's largely rationalized it to himself as a practical course of action, he struggles to sit up, fighting bone-deep exhaustion.
He's unfazed by the instinctive rejection, decides that this is the most efficient course of action; softness has no place between them. ]
That chair looks uncomfortable. [ An observation, that's all. Kylo refuses to contemplate deeper ramifications. Rejects the notion that he wants to hold him. ] And your mind [ -- rattled, battered, angry, desperate -- ] is making an inordinate amount of noise.
[ He still keeps his promise to stay out; but this, he can't possibly ignore. ]
[ At the sound of motion, Hux picks up his gaze, pale eyes settling on the injured man. A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth, disapproval showing clearly. Of course Ren would struggle to sit up even after taking a bolt to the side.
How stupid. ]
Must you be so stubborn, lay back down. [ If he focuses on that instead, maybe he can make it out of this conversation with everything intact. ] It's only uncomfortable because I've been here for several hours. You threw a fit if it were even hinted that I'd leave.
[ This is your fault. ] I'm tired, Lord Ren. I'd rather not hear about how much noise I'm supposedly making.
[ He hears it loud and clear, the words Hux thinks but leaves unspoken. But there is more to the defensiveness, the stubborn clinging to his pride. Kylo is not the only obstinate individual in this room. ]
Must you be so stubborn? [ He asks pointedly, refusing to lie back down. It takes all his will to sit up, the pain a terrible, burning thing that he struggles to keep under control. They are both hurting, and Hux lashes out at him because it's convenient. Easy. ]
There is enough space on this bed for us both. [ This is merely an exercise in practicality, that's all. That has to be all. Kylo still feels weakened, diminished in the wake of Han Solo's death, the touch of a warm hand on his face, and he pushes the thought away. Hux is a welcome distraction, and he gestures at the door, the locks clicking into place. ] No one will enter.
[ This isn't stubbornness for the sake of it, he reassured himself. He's simply exhausted and wrung out. More to the point: he isn't the one injured and Ren is, so he's allowed to sit in the uncomfortable chair as long as he likes.
Even if the temptation to lie down on the other man's bed is strong. ]
I'm being practical and attempting to keep you from bleeding all over yourself. [ Again. Hux does not want to see so much blood running from him ever again. Mentally, he tells himself it's because the sight was nauseating. But perhaps there's something else there. ]
I should be on the bridge. [ His switch in topics is abrupt, though related. Because he doesn't want to face this. Wants some sort of distraction and work is the best place to funnel that. Using the chair arms as grounding, he plants his hands there and pushes himself up.
Which has him swaying on his feet a moment later. It's possible he's more tired than he thought, if his balance is being compromised. Dizzily, he sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed, back to Ren. This feels like weakness and he hates it. Hates himself for giving in even more. ]
[ His injuries are ultimately inconsequential in the face of Hux's nearly overwhelming exhaustion. He's distracted by what he picks up from the General -- perhaps the older man is too tired to shield himself against him, or perhaps he just doesn't care.
Doesn't matter.
When Hux perches on the edge of the bed, his back to Kylo, close but still a touch unwilling, he hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder. Keeping him from bleeding all over himself? Kylo likes to think it's stone-cold practicality speaking -- it sits better with the both of them. Even so, there is time for them to recover, to lick their wounds and move forward -- the path is still ahead of them (even if the beginnings of doubt are starting to stir), and there is much still to be done.
Kylo presses his forehead briefly to the General's back at the abrupt change in topic, a silent concession before he moves away, affords the other man the space he needs to lie down. ] Your men are well-trained to be without you for a few hours.
[ He says simply, lying back and staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a whirl in his head. He thought he would be stronger after killing Solo. He's not sure if it's worked. ]
[ Hux would disagree. Kylo Ren's injuries are severe, near fatal. If he'd been later, only just– well, he's not going to think about theoreticals. That didn't happen and now they're both alive to tell the tale.
Feet firmly on the ground, he leans his elbows on his knees, bending to formulated gravity and the weight on his mind. There's a warm touch on his back, the heat seeping through the layers of his clothes. He can tell without looking it's the press of Ren's hand. Open-palmed, loose fingered. Meant to be reassuring. It's soon replaced by something even more affectionate, however brief. That, he doesn't want to think about too closely. ]
Perhaps they are. [ If he can convince his paranoia that everything will be fine, maybe it will be. Ultimately, he surrenders, simply because holding up his own body is becoming more and more difficult. Carefully, he reaches down and pulls his boots off, setting them next to each other by the foot of the chair. His belt and coat go next, meticulously folded and placed on the seat of the chair. Just because he's tired doesn't mean he'll abide by mess. Turning, he stretches his legs out on the bed, still sitting up. From here, he's close enough to the other man without encroaching on his space entirely.
Hux glances down and then decides he doesn't want to see Ren's face after all.
(But mostly he doesn't want the other to see his expression as he lays back and lets the walls down). ]
What happened? [ He doesn't clarify what he means, just lets the question hang there, a note of resignation echoing in it. ]
[ 'Alive' is a term he chooses to use loosely. Kylo feels him shift and move, the familiar rustling of divested clothing items a familiar sound in the near-deafening silence. He's aware of Hux's habits, the unwavering dedication to neatness and order no matter the situation; which lent itself to several interesting moments in their times together.
Now, however, it serves as a strange sort of comfort. Another rustle, and Hux lies beside him. Kylo doesn't turn his head, well aware of Hux's thoughts, the fact that he's barely holding himself together. Perhaps it is kindness that he does not seek to look at him -- although he would deny such a failing. Perhaps it's something else entirely. He hears those words, soft and tired, and he feels something in him twist just a little.
He must have strength, and courage to continue. He had done what was asked of him, he had passed the test. Han Solo is no more; and with that bane removed, with --
-- he swallows the inexplicable lump in his throat. No, these emotions belonged to a younger, more foolish him. It's time he buried them with the man he killed. Even if the seeds of doubt had been sown with Snoke's intentions for Kylo, he fights to continue. A great destiny still awaits, for him and for Hux. He senses the resignation in the question leveled at him, the weariness. He knows what Starkiller meant to the general, how a part of him must have died at its destruction. ]
Han Solo is dead. [ Hux doesn't need to clarify for Kylo to know exactly what he means. The words are even, forced to be neutral. ] But the girl and her band of thieves and traitors escaped. [ His healing wound throbs dully, and he glances at Hux very briefly. He resists the strange desire to put his hand over his, but he lets their fingers brush, wordlessly close.
This is not something either of them should think too deeply about, either. ] We have not yet lost. [ He hesitates, before he asks, low and quiet. ] Were you hurt?
[ If he can't have order anywhere else in his life, he can at least attempt to have it over his own clothing. Perhaps it's a silly gesture, but Hux needs this to keep what little sanity and thought processes he has left.
And thankfully, Kylo Ren makes no move to look at him. Instead, the two of them lay there in the silence, even after he's asked his question. It doesn't bother him that he's not getting an answer from the other man. Though he can basically feel him struggling with some kind of response. No matter if it never comes– he wouldn't blame him. And it would just turn the query into a rhetorical. Nothing is lost.
Except the Force-user is speaking up, words sounding odd. As though he's attempting to apply the filter of his mask to his regular speaking voice. That alone makes his gut twist, uncomfortable with the emotion that's being presented.
Han Solo is dead. This news does not hit him heavily, rather, sinks in his stomach like a slow weight. Hux doesn't have much in the way of knowing Kylo Ren's history, but he does know enough. Would he have been able to kill Brendol Hux? His own father? Every part of him says yes, but familial ties are more difficult to slice than anything else. Closing his eyes, he tries to block out how Ren must've felt. Is still feeling. He doesn't want it echoing around in his own mixed up feelings. ]
A shame. [ Unfortunately, he doesn't know what else to say. Would offering condolences hurt more? He opts to comment on the detail about the scavenger girl and that traitor. Another failing, though this one is shared by them both. ]
Haven't we? [ Uncharacteristically, his voice cracks on the words, reality sharp like a knife between his ribs. It's hard to breathe. Something like a sob catches at the back of his throat and he reaches up, palms pressed in on his eyes.
[ The sound of Hux's words betrays something painfully raw, achingly so; and it's so unfamiliar to Kylo that he's distracted from his own clamoring thoughts. He knows how hard the general fights to betray no weakness, but in this unguarded moment they are allowed a moment of reprieve.
Kylo listens to him, the question that catches in his chest. Haven't they lost? Kylo has cut off so much today, has done the unforgivable, and there is nowhere else to go but forward, into the darkness. He doesn't look at Hux still, giving him the illusion and the space that he needs. The man just had his life's work torn away from him -- a measure of emotion, perhaps, is not weakness. He's silent for a few moments, taking Hux in before his hand comes to cover Hux's. This is not what they are going to talk about, either; not all that lies unspoken between them.
They have failed, lost far too much today, but they are still here, and there is always a chance to regroup and return with a vengeance, better than they were before. But even with these thoughts, Kylo still can't shake off the lingering grief, the look on Han's face when he ultimately kills him. He made it fast, as painless as can be, considering the circumstances, and he swallows hard.
It doesn't help the struggle, the pain of being torn in two. Hux's own pain, so powerful and so strong in the room between them, helps. It pulls him out of his head and into the General's. In their most private, shared moment, this is important. His hand continues to rest on Hux's own. ]
For now. [ He concedes quietly, the words bitter as heart-blood in his mouth. He's silent for a long moment, letting it hang between them before he asks a question, a seeming non-sequitur, a question that surely betrays Kylo's own thoughts. ]
Would you have done it? [ Killed his own father. ]
[ Hux fights it, fights himself and hates every second. How every shuddering breath makes it feel like he's collapsing in. Like he's no better off than Kylo Ren had been earlier in the snow–white stained red, cuts on the fragile parts of his body. He suffers from mental injuries, managing to get off of Starkiller without so much as a scratch.
And yet it digs so deep.
Swallowing, he lets Kylo's hand cover his own and after a moment, he curls his fingers around the other's palm. Neither of them put a name to this but right now it's a lifeline and he'll gladly hold onto it.
(This is for the faint of heart and it's appropriate because it seems like his is gone). ]
Would I have.... [ Hux repeats the question quietly, voice rougher than usual. ] Yes, probably. Yes.
If it were expected of me, it would've been failure not to.
[ It would have been failure not to. In this, perhaps, Kylo has passed. It feels hollow, this victory. He feels diminished and emptied, and when Hux's fingers tighten around his palm, he exhales.
Hux is right, of course. They do what is necessary, and all others must fall to the wayside. It is weakness, this emotion, but he listens quietly to those rough words, the polished exterior of the general dissipated in these private moments. There is understanding here, an awareness that they are both striving towards the same thing, shedding their humanity as they move forward.
Necessary.
He shifts then, pulls up the blanket for them both and turns down the lights. He keeps his hand in his, murmuring quietly. ]
There will be another plan. A grander one. You're not finished.
[ The rush of air from the other man seems to tell him how he feels about his response. It's mixed. There's tension in his fingers, in his touch. As though he isn't totally convinced.
But then, their circumstances are so different. Hux has realized over time that his relationship with his father was an exceptional kind. Not nearly close to normal. The dedication to the First Order demanded that of both of them.
It was, as he knows, necessary. Sacrifices are made so that other things can be achieved. So he can go after his ambitions, even if he's slicing his humanity to ribbons. There's no room for sentimentality at the top or the path to it.
(He can't bring himself to let go of Ren's hand, even through this). ]
We're not finished. [ A quiet correction, voice low and oddly sure. ]
[ Kylo says nothing at that correction, but his hand tightens briefly around Hux's. He doesn't let go of it either, this piece of unspoken sentiment that goes unacknowledged, absent from their vocabulary. To put a word to this is to risk breaking the brittle armistice between them.
With Hux here, he feels anchored, just a little less alone. After all, they walk the path that others have no heart or strength to take. They are the ones of promise and ambition, strong enough to weather this storm before moving forward. Sacrifices, after all, had to be made.
Kylo thinks of the man who had been Ben Solo's father, the warm touch on his face, and dwells on it like an open wound. How had this made him stronger? He didn't feel that way -- and in so many little ways it both poisons and frees him. He had cut out what had been tied to him, watched the light die in his eyes, and so had what was left of his own light, perhaps.
He hopes. It doesn't feel like a triumph. Hux, however, provides a strength that augments, and he simply nods. It's only a few moments before he tugs him closer, seeking more contact (wanting his arms around him).
[ There isn't a response. Well, not a vocal one. The tightening of Ren's fingers around his own is a response on its own and it drives the emotion deeper. Has him sealing that part of himself up more and more so he can keep it a secret. This is something that passes between them so rarely.
It shouldn't be possible to begin with, but it persists.
Ren got under his skin the moment he came on board. When he'd been assigned to the Finalizer, rankless and still so powerful. Time has flown by since that point and Hux would've laughed at himself if this was ever told to him then. That he'd be laying here, making resolutions to fight back with Ren's arms around him. Safe. In a sense, there's a semblance of control in the grasp and Hux curls into it, his own hands coming up to curl around the other man's wrists. Keeping him there even if he should push away. ]
[ Kylo only leans closer, curving around the way Hux curls into him. It's a moment stolen out of time, privacy spared only for themselves as they lick their wounds and bide their time. Hux is a warm, wordless presence, the ambitious General likely already coming up with plans of his own to turn it to their advantage.
Hux does not stay defeated for long, not with his obsessive nature, so much like Kylo's own. Underneath the tension and the friction, Kylo understands him -- even if he likes to think he doesn't.
His entire body hurts and aches, but the pain is easily relegated to the back of his mind, his fingers easing from one of Hux's hands to trail through the other man's hair briefly, absently. ]
[ In a normal reality, he would be planning. Plotting, scheming, thinking about his next move. Their next move. Except right now he doesn't want to. He wants to detach from reality, from the harshness of failure. Ren's weight behind him is a comfort even if his back is exposed (the first rule of command, never show a weak guard).
The tension in all of his muscles feels like it's being warmed away. Sliding out of him like water through their fingers. His eyes flutter shut at the touch in his hair. ]
I will. [ A quiet confirmation– he's not going anywhere. If Ren needs this comfort as much as he does, he'll remain. ]
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momijizukamori
kylux | h&c
Date: 2016-02-12 02:18 am (UTC)She won on multiple handicaps -- she wouldn't have had a chance if he truly meant to kill her, but all of this means nothing in the wake of the chaos and the spectacular failure of all their plans. Starkiller has fallen, disintegrating before their eyes, and a part of him wonders at how heartsick the General must be, that his life's work has fallen before him.
He struggles to stand, pounding on the wound as his jaw sets. Pain, pain is what gives him strength (even as it wanes, sticky blood soaking his robes), and he will not fall. The aching torment of Han Solo's face is pushed away, denied, as is the heartache and agony endured in the shreds of his old self. He killed his father in cold blood, and he wonders if this is what power really feels like (like everything dirty has made its home inside of him and threatens to turn him inside out).
He doesn't care. He must not. It was a test and he passed, and that is all that matters.
Kylo struggles to walk, leaning against a tree as blood continues to spill. He tastes copper in his mouth as he forces himself forward, furious with his weakness. He hears voices and machines, the faraway sounds of people searching for him, calling his name -- the familiar white of the stormtrooper regiment glimpsed among the trees.
He's here, too, the General; the only one man he will allow to find him.
Here, He says in his mind, fighting exhaustion; makes sure to show Hux what he's seeing. They have wounds of their own to nurse, and their men must not see. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-02-12 09:00 am (UTC)Generals go down with their ships, typically. Isn't that so?
Only he can't. No, won't. This is a bitter pill to swallow, especially on the heels of such enormous triumph. The galaxy was one step closer to perfect order. To solutions. To an end of war, struggle, poverty. What the New Republic had left in its wake with its extravagance and inaction. Giving up now, when the fight was half won, it would be weakness. So as Snoke gives his order to find Kylo Ren, Hux lets the numbing sensation of shock wash over him, expression eerily placid. He's near by the wayward Force user, his tracking device indicating distance in closer and closer increments.
A particularly violent shiver of the earth ripples through and he clutches to a nearby tree, steadying only long enough to get his legs underneath him again. Glancing up, he sees him. The Jedi Killer– for once, Hux is relieved to see him. He stands out stark against the white and grey of the forest, dripping blood and cutting an intimidating silhouette even through his injured state. Hurrying, he snaps out orders to nearby troopers over his comm; target acquired, prepare ship for immediate take off and for gods sake alert medical on board the Finalizer.
Long strides take him to Kylo Ren's side, where he immediately offers a shoulder to lean on. ]
Let's go, just up here. Stay with us or the shock will set in too deeply.
no subject
Date: 2016-02-12 10:05 am (UTC)He growls to himself, a sound of frustration and disgust, and perhaps it's Hux's overwhelming emotion that bleeds into him as well. He fights to focus on the sound of his voice, leaning against him. It stings, being this weak; but there is nothing to be done for it right now, when all his strength is channeled into staying upright.
Hux is the only one welcome within the perimeters of his personal space, an unconscious force-field keeping out the others who dare to stray too close.
It doesn't take long before they make their way to the Finalizer, the barrier faltering to allow the medical team close; but Kylo doesn't let go of Hux, not willingly. There are too many broken pieces, too much to hold on to, and the General is the one stable thing in the storm that circles him.
The doctor murmurs quiet instructions, setting off to Kylo's private quarters, flanked by the medical team -- he refuses to let them close, a wolf wounded and likely to lash out, subconsciously seeking comfort from the presence of the one man he allows closer than others. He's cut off too much today, and all that's left is --
-- he doesn't know what this is. Not anymore. Stay with us, Hux says, and he does. He must. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-02-13 01:01 am (UTC)Neither of them do, really. The other man is growling low, a rough sound that would normally have people turning in fear. Hux has grown used to his temper. Moreover, there’s more at stake here than how the other man currently feels about his situation. Eventually, he feels the deeper press of weight on his shoulders as Ren leans on him more heavily. It’s not a long way to the ship and once boarded, he gives command to pull up the docking door and leave. The last thing any of them would want is to get stuck in the gravitational pull of an imploding planet. As it was, they were risking it by still being planet-side as it shuddered in its death throes.
Everything lurches when the ship takes off and he busies himself with trying to stem some of the bleeding on Ren’s side. In places, it’s difficult, since the Force-user seems reluctant to let go. Perhaps, he thinks, it’s about stability. Keeping himself upright.
Time is fast and slow all at once. The crew onboard the Finalizer greets them, medical standing by as ordered. A faint note of pride sings somewhere in his mind– they’re doing so well in the middle of a crisis. That thought is pushed away to focus on the ruckus that Ren is kicking up, refusing to have attention paid to him by the medical staff. Hux feels his anger welling up. Why now? Why is he intent on acting like a child? It must be the shock. The pressure has finally made him snap. Cool headed as always, the doctor takes it in stride, doling out his own set of orders. With no other choice left, considering he's locked in the steely grip of Kylo Ren himself, he follows the medical team to a more personal room in medbay.
Once there, it's a clinical dressing down. Stripped bare, a concoction of medicines (this for pain, for numbing, for sedation). Through it all, he keeps his lips pressed thin, a reassuring presence nearby as he oversees. The amount of blood is distressing and he feels like he'll be sick, but exhaustion keeps him from it.
Hours pass and finally, finally, a tenuous stability is found. Hux is slumped in a close chair, shoulders bending inwards, back curving under the aching tiredness that runs through him. ]
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Date: 2016-02-13 02:52 am (UTC)He thinks of all that's unfolded, the test he's passed (so how come it feels like he's failed?), the struggle between the light and darkness, on everything that he draws on to fortify himself. He has a destiny to rise towards, to finish the work his grandfather began and ultimately failed. He is a product of that failure, he knows. But he will not make the same mistake twice.
Kylo refuses painkillers, agreeable only to the sedation. Pain, he knows, is nothing to be feared; and in sedation-lined agony there is a certain clarity of thought, of focus. He sees Han Solo's face, and perhaps the ultimate death of who he used to be before he was Kylo Ren. He remembers the howl of anguish from the wookie, and had done nothing to stop the bolt from tearing him another new hole (perhaps he had thought he deserved it).
Hours pass, and when the doctor finally leaves them both, he turns his head to study Hux. The General looks smaller now when he's hunched over, less imposing in his weariness and their shared failure. Kylo is acutely aware of the fact that he didn't have to be in here with him, that most of Hux's command had not been on the ground, in the thick of battle, but always above; planning and executing. He can practically taste the distress coming from the man, no matter how he excels at hiding it.
Still, there is nothing to be done for it now, save to regroup and try again -- no empire is without its setbacks. He finally speaks, mouth dry. ]
Come here.
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Date: 2016-02-13 07:03 am (UTC)Even though the mere thought of plotting anything makes him feel strangely unhinged. Stretched too thin and shock digging deep. As he sits in this chair, not even noting how uncomfortable it is, Hux stares off towards the ground. All over it feels like his limbs are leaden, that the air is stifling. Out of the corner of his eye, he can tell Ren is staring. Studying. What does he see? Hux almost doesn't want to imagine, because he's having difficulty swallowing his own presence at the moment.
Something broke when Starkiller fell to pieces, only he's much too tired to acknowledge it. His crew needs more orders, he should be on the bridge, should be figuring out their next course, should– ]
No. [ And then: ] Why?
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Date: 2016-02-13 07:18 am (UTC)He's unfazed by the instinctive rejection, decides that this is the most efficient course of action; softness has no place between them. ]
That chair looks uncomfortable. [ An observation, that's all. Kylo refuses to contemplate deeper ramifications. Rejects the notion that he wants to hold him. ] And your mind [ -- rattled, battered, angry, desperate -- ] is making an inordinate amount of noise.
[ He still keeps his promise to stay out; but this, he can't possibly ignore. ]
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Date: 2016-02-14 08:44 am (UTC)How stupid. ]
Must you be so stubborn, lay back down. [ If he focuses on that instead, maybe he can make it out of this conversation with everything intact. ] It's only uncomfortable because I've been here for several hours. You threw a fit if it were even hinted that I'd leave.
[ This is your fault. ] I'm tired, Lord Ren. I'd rather not hear about how much noise I'm supposedly making.
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Date: 2016-02-14 09:01 am (UTC)Must you be so stubborn? [ He asks pointedly, refusing to lie back down. It takes all his will to sit up, the pain a terrible, burning thing that he struggles to keep under control. They are both hurting, and Hux lashes out at him because it's convenient. Easy. ]
There is enough space on this bed for us both. [ This is merely an exercise in practicality, that's all. That has to be all. Kylo still feels weakened, diminished in the wake of Han Solo's death, the touch of a warm hand on his face, and he pushes the thought away. Hux is a welcome distraction, and he gestures at the door, the locks clicking into place. ] No one will enter.
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Date: 2016-02-14 09:44 am (UTC)Even if the temptation to lie down on the other man's bed is strong. ]
I'm being practical and attempting to keep you from bleeding all over yourself. [ Again. Hux does not want to see so much blood running from him ever again. Mentally, he tells himself it's because the sight was nauseating. But perhaps there's something else there. ]
I should be on the bridge. [ His switch in topics is abrupt, though related. Because he doesn't want to face this. Wants some sort of distraction and work is the best place to funnel that. Using the chair arms as grounding, he plants his hands there and pushes himself up.
Which has him swaying on his feet a moment later. It's possible he's more tired than he thought, if his balance is being compromised. Dizzily, he sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed, back to Ren. This feels like weakness and he hates it. Hates himself for giving in even more. ]
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Date: 2016-02-14 09:58 am (UTC)Doesn't matter.
When Hux perches on the edge of the bed, his back to Kylo, close but still a touch unwilling, he hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder. Keeping him from bleeding all over himself? Kylo likes to think it's stone-cold practicality speaking -- it sits better with the both of them. Even so, there is time for them to recover, to lick their wounds and move forward -- the path is still ahead of them (even if the beginnings of doubt are starting to stir), and there is much still to be done.
Kylo presses his forehead briefly to the General's back at the abrupt change in topic, a silent concession before he moves away, affords the other man the space he needs to lie down. ] Your men are well-trained to be without you for a few hours.
[ He says simply, lying back and staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a whirl in his head. He thought he would be stronger after killing Solo. He's not sure if it's worked. ]
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Date: 2016-02-15 08:23 am (UTC)Feet firmly on the ground, he leans his elbows on his knees, bending to formulated gravity and the weight on his mind. There's a warm touch on his back, the heat seeping through the layers of his clothes. He can tell without looking it's the press of Ren's hand. Open-palmed, loose fingered. Meant to be reassuring. It's soon replaced by something even more affectionate, however brief. That, he doesn't want to think about too closely. ]
Perhaps they are. [ If he can convince his paranoia that everything will be fine, maybe it will be. Ultimately, he surrenders, simply because holding up his own body is becoming more and more difficult. Carefully, he reaches down and pulls his boots off, setting them next to each other by the foot of the chair. His belt and coat go next, meticulously folded and placed on the seat of the chair. Just because he's tired doesn't mean he'll abide by mess. Turning, he stretches his legs out on the bed, still sitting up. From here, he's close enough to the other man without encroaching on his space entirely.
Hux glances down and then decides he doesn't want to see Ren's face after all.
(But mostly he doesn't want the other to see his expression as he lays back and lets the walls down). ]
What happened? [ He doesn't clarify what he means, just lets the question hang there, a note of resignation echoing in it. ]
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Date: 2016-02-15 03:33 pm (UTC)Now, however, it serves as a strange sort of comfort. Another rustle, and Hux lies beside him. Kylo doesn't turn his head, well aware of Hux's thoughts, the fact that he's barely holding himself together. Perhaps it is kindness that he does not seek to look at him -- although he would deny such a failing. Perhaps it's something else entirely. He hears those words, soft and tired, and he feels something in him twist just a little.
He must have strength, and courage to continue. He had done what was asked of him, he had passed the test. Han Solo is no more; and with that bane removed, with --
-- he swallows the inexplicable lump in his throat. No, these emotions belonged to a younger, more foolish him. It's time he buried them with the man he killed. Even if the seeds of doubt had been sown with Snoke's intentions for Kylo, he fights to continue. A great destiny still awaits, for him and for Hux. He senses the resignation in the question leveled at him, the weariness. He knows what Starkiller meant to the general, how a part of him must have died at its destruction. ]
Han Solo is dead. [ Hux doesn't need to clarify for Kylo to know exactly what he means. The words are even, forced to be neutral. ] But the girl and her band of thieves and traitors escaped. [ His healing wound throbs dully, and he glances at Hux very briefly. He resists the strange desire to put his hand over his, but he lets their fingers brush, wordlessly close.
This is not something either of them should think too deeply about, either. ] We have not yet lost. [ He hesitates, before he asks, low and quiet. ] Were you hurt?
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Date: 2016-02-15 04:23 pm (UTC)And thankfully, Kylo Ren makes no move to look at him. Instead, the two of them lay there in the silence, even after he's asked his question. It doesn't bother him that he's not getting an answer from the other man. Though he can basically feel him struggling with some kind of response. No matter if it never comes– he wouldn't blame him. And it would just turn the query into a rhetorical. Nothing is lost.
Except the Force-user is speaking up, words sounding odd. As though he's attempting to apply the filter of his mask to his regular speaking voice. That alone makes his gut twist, uncomfortable with the emotion that's being presented.
Han Solo is dead. This news does not hit him heavily, rather, sinks in his stomach like a slow weight. Hux doesn't have much in the way of knowing Kylo Ren's history, but he does know enough. Would he have been able to kill Brendol Hux? His own father? Every part of him says yes, but familial ties are more difficult to slice than anything else. Closing his eyes, he tries to block out how Ren must've felt. Is still feeling. He doesn't want it echoing around in his own mixed up feelings. ]
A shame. [ Unfortunately, he doesn't know what else to say. Would offering condolences hurt more? He opts to comment on the detail about the scavenger girl and that traitor. Another failing, though this one is shared by them both. ]
Haven't we? [ Uncharacteristically, his voice cracks on the words, reality sharp like a knife between his ribs. It's hard to breathe. Something like a sob catches at the back of his throat and he reaches up, palms pressed in on his eyes.
No, he won't. He can't. This is weakness. ]
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Date: 2016-02-16 12:36 am (UTC)Kylo listens to him, the question that catches in his chest. Haven't they lost? Kylo has cut off so much today, has done the unforgivable, and there is nowhere else to go but forward, into the darkness. He doesn't look at Hux still, giving him the illusion and the space that he needs. The man just had his life's work torn away from him -- a measure of emotion, perhaps, is not weakness. He's silent for a few moments, taking Hux in before his hand comes to cover Hux's. This is not what they are going to talk about, either; not all that lies unspoken between them.
They have failed, lost far too much today, but they are still here, and there is always a chance to regroup and return with a vengeance, better than they were before. But even with these thoughts, Kylo still can't shake off the lingering grief, the look on Han's face when he ultimately kills him. He made it fast, as painless as can be, considering the circumstances, and he swallows hard.
It doesn't help the struggle, the pain of being torn in two. Hux's own pain, so powerful and so strong in the room between them, helps. It pulls him out of his head and into the General's. In their most private, shared moment, this is important. His hand continues to rest on Hux's own. ]
For now. [ He concedes quietly, the words bitter as heart-blood in his mouth. He's silent for a long moment, letting it hang between them before he asks a question, a seeming non-sequitur, a question that surely betrays Kylo's own thoughts. ]
Would you have done it? [ Killed his own father. ]
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Date: 2016-02-16 07:25 am (UTC)And yet it digs so deep.
Swallowing, he lets Kylo's hand cover his own and after a moment, he curls his fingers around the other's palm. Neither of them put a name to this but right now it's a lifeline and he'll gladly hold onto it.
(This is for the faint of heart and it's appropriate because it seems like his is gone). ]
Would I have.... [ Hux repeats the question quietly, voice rougher than usual. ] Yes, probably. Yes.
If it were expected of me, it would've been failure not to.
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Date: 2016-02-16 08:11 am (UTC)Hux is right, of course. They do what is necessary, and all others must fall to the wayside. It is weakness, this emotion, but he listens quietly to those rough words, the polished exterior of the general dissipated in these private moments. There is understanding here, an awareness that they are both striving towards the same thing, shedding their humanity as they move forward.
Necessary.
He shifts then, pulls up the blanket for them both and turns down the lights. He keeps his hand in his, murmuring quietly. ]
There will be another plan. A grander one. You're not finished.
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Date: 2016-02-17 03:55 am (UTC)But then, their circumstances are so different. Hux has realized over time that his relationship with his father was an exceptional kind. Not nearly close to normal. The dedication to the First Order demanded that of both of them.
It was, as he knows, necessary. Sacrifices are made so that other things can be achieved. So he can go after his ambitions, even if he's slicing his humanity to ribbons. There's no room for sentimentality at the top or the path to it.
(He can't bring himself to let go of Ren's hand, even through this). ]
We're not finished. [ A quiet correction, voice low and oddly sure. ]
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Date: 2016-02-17 04:20 pm (UTC)With Hux here, he feels anchored, just a little less alone. After all, they walk the path that others have no heart or strength to take. They are the ones of promise and ambition, strong enough to weather this storm before moving forward. Sacrifices, after all, had to be made.
Kylo thinks of the man who had been Ben Solo's father, the warm touch on his face, and dwells on it like an open wound. How had this made him stronger? He didn't feel that way -- and in so many little ways it both poisons and frees him. He had cut out what had been tied to him, watched the light die in his eyes, and so had what was left of his own light, perhaps.
He hopes. It doesn't feel like a triumph. Hux, however, provides a strength that augments, and he simply nods. It's only a few moments before he tugs him closer, seeking more contact (wanting his arms around him).
It is not weakness. ]
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Date: 2016-02-22 03:22 am (UTC)It shouldn't be possible to begin with, but it persists.
Ren got under his skin the moment he came on board. When he'd been assigned to the Finalizer, rankless and still so powerful. Time has flown by since that point and Hux would've laughed at himself if this was ever told to him then. That he'd be laying here, making resolutions to fight back with Ren's arms around him. Safe. In a sense, there's a semblance of control in the grasp and Hux curls into it, his own hands coming up to curl around the other man's wrists. Keeping him there even if he should push away. ]
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Date: 2016-02-22 03:45 pm (UTC)Hux does not stay defeated for long, not with his obsessive nature, so much like Kylo's own. Underneath the tension and the friction, Kylo understands him -- even if he likes to think he doesn't.
His entire body hurts and aches, but the pain is easily relegated to the back of his mind, his fingers easing from one of Hux's hands to trail through the other man's hair briefly, absently. ]
Stay the night.
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Date: 2016-02-26 07:16 am (UTC)The tension in all of his muscles feels like it's being warmed away. Sliding out of him like water through their fingers. His eyes flutter shut at the touch in his hair. ]
I will. [ A quiet confirmation– he's not going anywhere. If Ren needs this comfort as much as he does, he'll remain. ]