Archive of Our Own ^beta

The wait was the most difficult part.

No one was watching him as General Hux paced around the small room, he knew. He had been assured that there was no surveillance; once he'd heard the door lock from the outside, he had personally checked every square inch and had found nothing. It was a couple of steps up from the last room he had been thrown into: a little larger, a couple more amenities that looked fairly recently washed, and even a tiny window high on one wall that allowed natural light to filter between its thick bars.

He was still in a basement, of course, in a building far from the Resistance's busy main headquarters, but Hux preferred the quiet. He'd only seen a handful of faces and wanted to keep it that way. The only problem was that he didn't know how long it would take for news from the base's central control to reach this place, which seemed like an outpost station. He wouldn't have been surprised if his cell had been specially converted just for his sake from a supply room.

Hux stopped pacing and listened to the murmuring outside the door. The two guards were among those who brought him here and were the only two ordered to keep watch as far as he was aware. They were down the short hallway, their words indecipherable, but there was the distinct crackle and buzz of a comms unit. Hux didn't move as seconds passed. Then purposeful footsteps grew louder as someone approached -- the taller of the two men, possibly, judging by the even gait and long strides -- and halted in a way that was both familiar and alien, causing the general to momentarily forget his current position as a prisoner of war. A paper slid under the heavy door, and Hux eyed its blank reverse side as he heard the man walk away again. Making a fist and spreading his fingers again, he willed his hand not to shake as he picked up the paper.

2143 - PACKAGE RECEIVED. DELIVERY - 0200.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, letting the message drift to his side to land on top of the still-folded blanket.

Hux had been stunned and captured over twenty-six hours ago, his pride suffering far more than his body. No other First Order operative had survived the surprise encounter; as he had been led away, head aching, he had counted the half-dozen bodies himself. The first twelve hours had passed more or less as expected, his captors utilizing the most basic textbook interrogation and only succeeding in hurting Hux's ego even more. Just when he had begun to consider caving into the impulse to teach them more sophisticated methods, if only to see their reactions to the vivid pictures he would paint in their minds, he abruptly realized why they were handling him with kid gloves. Sure enough, his interactions with Resistance members went from very limited to far too much in the hours that followed.

Finally, after conditions were thoroughly discussed, they had reached an agreement and had moved on to strategy -- together. The plan had been set into motion eight hours ago. Hux had waited in this remote location for six hours already, and he would need to continue to do so for at least another four.

He buried his face into his hands, his palms pressed to his eyelids and blunt nails in his scalp.

Thirty hours, at the very least.

General Hux knew he should be relieved that Kylo Ren had been found, that his intel had been useful, but all he could do for now was wait and wonder. He wondered what state Ren would be in after their over-thirty-hour separation. It didn't sound like a significant amount of time, and it was clear during the negotiations -- the word all the more sour for its undeniable truth -- earlier that the Resistance's leaders didn't think much of fractions of that time.

But Hux knew the First Order did not waste time, especially not after a failure. Failure had to be addressed immediately and unquestionably. Those under his command were the most efficient in the entire Order, constantly pushed to remain so, to set the standard. They had finally begun to make amends for the disaster of Starkiller Base, the Supreme Leader trusting them with a new critical mission mere weeks ago. Regardless of what progress had been made, however, his command would suffer the consequences of their general's absence. They had no way of knowing if General Hux was imprisoned or dead, and those details didn't matter: going missing at all automatically turned him into a liability in the eyes of the First Order.

Failure always outweighed success, and Kylo Ren undoubtedly suffered the most for it at the hands of their master in lieu of General Hux. Despite the separate responsibilities attached to their respective positions, the Finalizer was under his command, as well. When the enemy had overtaken them and his second had fallen, he had very nearly pulled the trigger on himself, just as he had been trained to do in a no-win situation. Hux would blame the stun's effects on his mind and motor function if ever asked, but it had been the thought of leaving Ren behind to shoulder their combined failures that had made his hand waver.

So he had allowed himself to be captured by enemies, and he had allowed himself to rely on a known weakness of the Resistance: sentiment. Hux simply hadn't expected how little he needed to say for General Organa to appear, or how willing -- desperate -- she was to discuss extraction with him. He would have dropped the first hint much earlier; hell, it would have been the first words out of his mouth. He wouldn't have wait--wasted so much valuable time if he had known. She wouldn't have, either, if she had known what the First Order would do to punish her son, regardless of his devotion to its cause. Even a high-ranking official was not briefed on any specifics concerning the Knights of Ren, it being a tiny isolated division operating in strict secrecy; Hux however had a much better idea than most, unfortunately.

Hux sighed shortly and dropped his hands to his knees. The Resistance was holding to its end of the agreement so far. He needed to mentally prepare himself in case that changed. He needed to regain his blank composure for whatever sights greeted him through that locked door in the next few hours. He wouldn't be able to clear his mind enough to sleep, but he could settle for light rest if he planned enough contingencies first.

He placed the folded blanket on top of the bed's flat pillow and slowly settled on his back. Resting his eyes for minutes at a time, General Hux waited.

Outside of the basement window, very few sounds of human life or mechanical operations could be heard. The hallway beyond the thick door was almost silent.

Finally, another slip of paper was pushed under the door, and Hux snatched it up before it came to a complete stop.

0228 - ETA - 5.

Five minutes left.

He directed his thoughts away from what could have delayed them -- it could be nothing, merely his own impatience and their bad timing estimates -- and toward a small container on the floor, one of the provisions of the agreement. The room had no furniture besides the bed, which was narrow but long. The foot of it would have to serve as a table then, he decided as he unlatched the box and peered inside.

Hux cursed under his breath, the first words he had spoken aloud since arriving at the (probable) outpost station. Of course they had taken anything of use out of the medical kit. Nothing that could be weaponized -- or at least nothing horribly obvious. The two guards probably had the missing supplies, or they had hidden them in another room, kept them safe. Hux could laugh. He could feel the urge lodge itself in his chest and tighten his throat. As much as he'd like for them to disobey their no-talking orders, he didn't have the patience for engaging watchdogs even under the best circumstances. It was a wasted effort. Besides, their boss was on her way, and Hux would much rather direct his words to her directly.

Boxed in by four guards, Hux was led away from his cell to a hangar large enough to house four combat fighter ships if needed and little else. General Organa walked a few steps behind the escort, her sharp scrutiny prickling along the back of his shoulders and neck. She had quietly listened to his clipped complaints but had only nodded a little, perhaps distractedly, as she personally shackled Hux's wrists and ankles and handed the guards leads from a belt around his waist. They had previously taken such measures when there was the possibility of him being outdoors, in the open air, like he was a pet that would run away if a door was left open.

As they stepped farther into the hangar, the voices that had drifted through the passageway were attached to bodies in orange and brown uniforms. Hux counted four making preparations, as well as two droids that seemed to be eager to help but had little to actually do. He immediately recognized the X-Wing pilot that had been on Jakku and had escaped the Finalizer, watching as he oversaw the other three. One called him "Commander" while another who looked a decade or so older than him called him "Poe." No one questioned his orders, their work quick and efficient. They all turned when General Organa made her presence known by adding final instructions with a firmness in her tone and a spark in her eye.

Then the Commander -- Dameron, Hux's brain supplied belatedly, along with a flash of black and explosions and rage -- asked her a question that Hux didn't hear, and they all turned to Hux and the guards. He stared down each in turn, his expression blank and his posture perfect.

Without glancing back at him, Organa simply replied, "Leave him to me."

He continued his visual sweep of the hangar, and only then noticed the others who stood off to the side near a corner. How Hux could have missed a fully-grown and fully-armed Wookiee was ridiculous in and of itself, but he had also not seen the man next to him or felt his gaze. He had not officially made the acquaintance of Han Solo yet, and judging by the frown on his face the man was just as eager to do so as Hux was. He knew it wouldn't be possible to keep it that way after today, that they would be forced to interact -- maybe even talk. Hux clenched his bound hands together. A quick glance downward proved that the old smuggler also sported fists at his sides. His companion looked to be strategically poised to block any sudden movements, both from Solo or from elsewhere.

As Organa went to Solo and the Wookiee, the golden droid followed her; the round droid instead rolled to Dameron's group, perhaps noticing that their preparations were complete. Just then, sounds and lights alerted the hangar at large of the transport's arrival, and Hux was shuffled over to the middle of a wall while the other people made two slanted lines in an open V shape and the droids hung back to loosely complete the semicircle. Hux didn't have time to ponder over the unorthodox and unsightly formation as he and his escort looked to their right, toward the vessel entering the open hangar door.

The entire process of landing and disembarking was remarkably short, and yet from Hux's position it felt unbearably slow. Everyone else present had differing mixtures of grim anticipation etched into their features. Organa gripped Solo's arm; he looked rigidly uncomfortable and she was unflinchingly determined. Hux couldn't imagine how they felt and couldn't judge them -- for countless reasons. Seeing them wait sent a surge of anxiety through him; he tore his gaze back to the still-closed vessel door and tried to clear his mind of much more easily accessible images: the most visceral reactions of Kylo Ren.

People emerged from the small vessel, including four surrounding a fifth.

As it turned out, the initial reunion went far more smoothly than Hux would have thought possible, let alone probable. For one thing, nothing and nobody was destroyed. Of course, some damage was unavoidable.

Hux's first half-formed thoughts had somehow latched onto and swirled around two immediately apparent facts: Kylo Ren was not wearing his helmet, and his face had no new marks on it. His features revealed nothing, not in his movements or in his expression. His dark eyes were half-lidded and distant, in a way that suggested he didn't want to focus rather than he couldn't focus. He came to a stop when his escort did, his bindings similar to Hux's but the guards made a wider box by letting the leads stretch well over an arm's length from Ren, as if that would be of any use.

Organa stepped forward first, Solo a half-step behind, her hand still on his arm. Ren's gaze was fixed on the shrinking space between them, until he caught sight of their boots and it slid to the side -- toward the smaller separate group of people in his peripheral vision. Hux wondered if Ren felt his silent will to look at him, not them -- to forget the others for at least a moment and see that he was, in fact, here.

But then something whirred and chirped, and Ren's attention snapped away from his birth parents and Hux to lock on a third point: where the Resistance members stood, specifically the space at the end of the line, behind Commander Dameron, where the round droid was watching Ren from the gap between its master's legs.

Ren did nothing. The droid's optical lens could be heard adjusting its zoom. Dameron looked from one to the other, and then something in the air changed.

Before anyone could try to stop it, Dameron had punched Ren in the mouth. He followed it up with another hit across Ren's jaw before he was pulled far away by his three fellows and Ren was pulled backward a few meters by his shockingly poor excuses for guards.

Hux had stepped forward, his restraints stopping him before he was consciously aware of his actions. He was appalled at the inadequacy of those surrounding Ren and frustrated at his own inability to swiftly handle Dameron's offense.

It took a few moments for Hux to register that Organa had verbally dealt with her commander, who for his part appeared genuinely apologetic to her but not at all remorseful to Ren. The round droid was hiding behind the golden droid now, soft incoherent noises audible between them. The Wookiee appeared conflicted but ultimately decided to stay out of this. Solo had stayed where he was. He was staring at Ren.

Ren hadn't even bothered to smooth back the dark hair from his eyes or wipe the bright blood from his lips. Now, only now, did he look directly at Hux.

For an instant, he could have struck the man himself, with all of the strength of his irritation powering the blow. However, in the next instant, Ren's delayed reaction spread across his face, his emotions unconcealed and unmistakable and raw. He was rooted to where he stood, the rest of the hangar and its occupants fading into the background, and something in his expression flickered -- doubt. Ren didn't fully believe what he saw.

Hux found it to be a struggle to say even just one word. So instead, he focused his energy on moving, because if he could get to Ren then he could prove that he was very much real. He hadn't worked out the details on how to do that just yet, but he'd always been a resourceful person; he'd figure it out along the way. If anyone present had a shadow of a chance at effectively communicating with Ren, it would be Hux.

A deep inhale, a deep exhale, and he had summoned all of the stature of his military upbringing and well-earned rank without a thought, his entire demeanor changing to General Hux of the First Order. He took one confident step and another. The shackles on his ankles made it a little difficult, but he paid no regard. As the leads pulled in the Resistance escorts' hands, Hux took advantage of their surprise and continued without missing a beat. He dragged them along at first, heard a few cries of indignation, and then stopped and turned toward the source. The two guards to his left visibly shrank under the full weight of his most intimidating glare, the one he saved for Stormtroopers and other masked units in order to provoke just that sort of reaction and doubly reprimand them if they so much as twitched. When Hux continued walking, all four guards matched his stride.

Solo was still the only one paying any attention to this side of the hangar, and he still didn't interfere even as Hux approached Ren. Pointedly ignoring their audience, Hux focused solely on Ren as he came to a stop within reach if he so chose. Ren's guards and Hux's guards exchanged looks, all eight very obviously at a loss -- their general was still busy elsewhere, and even if they followed Solo's commands he wasn't offering any -- so they settled for making a circle and watching nervously.

Hux studied what was visible of Ren's face and neck, tracing with his eyes the now-old scar that crossed diagonally and the freshly split lower lip and the bruising left jawline. Ren watched Hux watch him through tousled dark locks, his dark eyes a little too wide and unblinking.

"Ren," Hux said, wondering vaguely in the back of his mind where his voice had come from and how it was passably normal.

It took a long stretch for Kylo to answer. He seemed content to stare at his general, his expression somewhere between disbelief and relief.

"Hux," he greeted in reply, tone difficult to read with only a single syllable to go by but at least he didn't sound hoarse -- like he had screamed away his voice. He took a small step. His brows furrowed a little as he parted his lips to speak again. He hesitated.

"Tell me," Hux encouraged aloud and privately thought, Tell me what they did.

"I'm sorry."

Well, Hux definitely didn't expect that. Before he could ask for clarification, Ren continued.

"I told them not to do it, but they wouldn't listen to me. They were ordered not to listen to me." His gaze darted away briefly; when it returned to Hux, it held more earnestness. "I didn't tell them why."

"What are you...?" and Hux trailed off, a sudden thought making his entire body stiffen. He knew exactly to what Ren referred. He used to get onto him enough times about it that it was difficult to forget. It was the second piece of information that filled him with dread, that made him almost cringe as he asked, "What did they do? Where did they take you?"

Ren licked his lips, the splotch of red mostly disappearing on his tongue and only leaving behind a faint pink smear. He said something quietly in response.

Hux didn't understand the literal words -- in all honesty, it was probably a dead language that deserved to stay dead -- but he understood the implication behind it all too well. He'd heard a similar phrase before, uttered by Ren to him not long after the destruction of Starkiller Base. There had been another strange phrase long before that, the first one Hux had ever heard, and it had sent a chill coursing through his veins preemptively, as if foreshadowing what Ren would reveal to him, would show him --

His hands balled into fists tight enough to turn his knuckles white and make his arms shake. Then Hux reached forward and all the tension in his muscles released as soon as his skin met Ren's soft black clothing. His fingers worked nimbly at the hidden fastenings, and perhaps he should have felt something negative about knowing exactly where and how to undress Ren's robes but he truly didn't care. It was a trivial concern compared to what lurked underneath the layers of fabric.

The guards had grown talkative again, and Hux couldn't tune them out, much to his dismay. There was a cacophony of voices, raised and meek, questioning and stuttering, but no one pulled Hux and Ren apart. Just as abruptly as the noise had erupted, it died away. Hux dropped his hands back to his sides and examined the bared skin of Ren's torso critically. He felt Ren's eyes stay on the top of his head as he leaned closer and half-crouched down. He prodded lightly at a couple of places, one of which made Ren's abdominal muscles constrict on reflex.

The stitches Hux had so painstakingly sewn weren't simply torn -- they had been removed. Every single one. It was a hollow sort of luck that that particular wound hadn't needed them for much longer, but it would still set back the recovery time. In the past, Ren would tear stitches thoughtlessly; he didn't do it on purpose, but it always drove Hux mad. After a while, he had sworn to be more careful so that Hux wouldn't waste his time redoing his handiwork -- not because it hurt. It was never because it hurt.

Even now, as Hux -- and the entire hangar, he was now aware on the fringes of his mind -- looked at the mess that was Kylo Ren's flesh, he knew that the still-healing wounds he had dressed and the latest injuries the man had suffered in his absence didn't register much on Ren's radar. Their combined destruction, as well as that of what the numerous scars criss-crossing his body represented, would kill most people with the sheer pain alone. It wasn't that Ren's pain threshold was high; it was that he didn't have one to speak of, really. At least, not anymore. His nerves' pain receptors were mostly deadened from years of constant abuse.

As awful as the front was, Hux knew Ren's back would most likely be even worse. He bit back a curse.

He was mildly surprised to hear a sharp and colorful curse anyway, from not too far away. Turning his head a little, Hux saw Solo standing closer to them. He looked severely pale, then furious.

"Don't just stand there gawking! Do something about it!" he barked, causing half of the guards to disappear into the passageway and the other half to remain frozen in place.

General Organa had taken a few steps closer as well, but she had stopped farther away. The Wookiee was the closest to her. Her hand covered her mouth, and the whites of her eyes were clearly visible. Solo's words must have snapped her out of her daze. She didn't comment on him ordering around her people; in fact, she added onto his words, addressing the group with Dameron, telling them to get help, to make more preparations. Maybe that was all they were good for: preparations. They left the hangar, as did the droids. Dameron looked ready to stay, but Organa gave him a look, and he hurried to follow the others.

(Welcome to the random bits and pieces of this fill, where everything falls apart. I managed to kinda sorta bridge the gaps in the parts above, but these are freakin chasms between fragments. I probably would have cut a couple of these, tbh -- not all ideas mesh well together. My inner crazy Context in the brackets.)

[Later, in Hux's cell, which is closer in size to a student dorm than a closet: Hux and Kylo are alone for a minute, talk a little. Most of their communication is nonverbal, but no telepathy -- more on that later, maybe.]

"You told them how to find me. You told them our code."

"Only what was necessary for you to listen to them. I didn't tell them what everything meant."

"I gathered that much."

As he crossed his arms over his chest, he made a quick motion with his fingers before that hand rested comfortably over his elbow. Hux replied with a different quick motion, his eyes shifting to the door and back. Ren nodded.

They always had contingency plans. Developing alternate means of communication was simply part of the strategy, as was switching from one code to another when necessary.

Raising his voice, Hux spoke to those who stood outside the door, "The supplies, General."

[Hux fixes up Kylo, Kylo doesn't let anyone else touch him, it's too much work for one person who isn't a medical professional whatsoever... The compromise: Leia sends for Dr. Kalonia, Hux does what he can in the meantime, Kylo will let the doctor do her thing if Hux stays in the room...]

[Leia and Han refuse to leave the entire time, but they're quietly watching from the other side of the room. Kylo has his back to them, which of course gives him two advantages from his POV: he can ignore them more easily, and they have to look at the some of the worst of of the body horror.]

Ren's expression was carefully neutral as he watched Hux scrutinize each unnatural blemish on his skin, both old and new.

Everything needed cleaning and disinfecting. Some of the blood was brown and flaking, and some still oozed over Ren's skin. His clothes had no holes that matched the injuries, but the fabric had stuck to Ren's skin in places, possibly causing fresh bleeding.

"This one needs sutures," Hux said in an undertone after a minute. He pointed to another, angrier wound. "That... might still have a piece in it."

[Terrible attempt at lightening the mood during the injury check, in three... two... one...]

Hux studied Ren's upper left arm closely. It looked like the crescent shape of an animal's bite mark, the skin punctured in places and bruised in others along the line. There was a matching bite mark not far away, on his shoulder.

"What did this?" he asked, dabbing at it with a cloth. "Nothing poisonous, I'm guessing."

"A relic," Ren said, shrugging his other shoulder, "A fossil, more or less."

Hux raised a brow. "Was it dead, or not? You make it sound like the last living specimen of its species."

"Dead. Long dead."

"Good." It was still surreal and nightmarish, of course, but that was a slight improvement. Hux looked under Ren's arm, at the claw-like scratches over the side of his left ribcage. None were deep or wide enough to reveal bone, but they crossed each as if counting them. "Are these from the same dead relic?"

Ren glanced down at where Hux motioned as if he had forgotten them. Then he murmured, "Probably. I didn't see."

Hux didn't miss the slight pause in the carefully chosen words. Ren didn't see because he couldn't see. His gaze drifted to bruised and chaffed wrists briefly before darting back to his current task. He'd apply a salve later -- no, Ren could at least do that himself, if he was told. He wouldn't take the initiative to bother with it otherwise.

[Couldn't ruin the end, sorry. Surprise?]

(I really liked these two ideas. I really am a sap, haha.)

[Hux checking Kylo for a head injury and any short-term memory loss.]

"Look at me. Now up. Right. Down. Left. Back to me. Good."

His eyes moved in quick unison in each direction. No cloudiness. One pupil was dilated more than the other. It wasn't noticeable except when up close. The whites of Ren's eyes were streaked with red in places, the rims a little pinker than they should be, but there was no yellowness.

"What is today's date?"

Ren's expression shifted ever so slightly. His gaze didn't leave Hux's as he swallowed down whatever retaliatory words he was thinking.

In a hushed voice that wouldn't float past Hux to other attentive ears, he answered truthfully -- correctly. Hux continued to speak in a normal volume, his delivery akin to reading a questionnaire from a form.

"Where were you born?"

Another correct answer.

"What is my name -- my full name?"

Correct answer, although the amusement sparkling in Ren's eyes made Hux feel both annoyed and relieved.

"What is your full birth name?"

He knew the answer is like pulling teeth for the man, but he couldn't resist a little quick payback.

"When and where did we first meet?"

A relatively longer but still correct answer.

"When and where did we last meet?"

Ren was slower to reply, the passing seconds seeming too fast. He had only stated the location when Hux cut into his short pause and moved on to the next question.

"What was the last thing I told you?"

Dark brows furrowed briefly and eyes blinked quickly. Hux could see that Ren knew the right answer, that he didn't need to think back; the memory had lingered in the forefront of his mind, replaying countless times during their separation. Perhaps Ren was watching it again now, since his sharp gaze had softened before Hux's eyes. He wondered if his own eyes shined with a thin sheen like Ren's were now.

Letting Ren off the hook again, Hux said, "I remember the last thing you told me." His voice had dropped to a whisper, and in the quiet between them he could hear Ren inhale a slow breath through his thinly parted lips. It wasn't shaky, but it also wasn't calm.

[Another question exchange I wanted to throw in somewhere.]

"When was the last time you ate? Real food, not this," Hux said, stressing the last word as he gestured to an IV needle mark in Ren's arm.

[Add something here, then...]

"What about you? Have you eaten lately?" Ren asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.

"No," he said slowly, a little caught off-guard. Then he added, "I wanted my last meal to be good."

Ren didn't quite laugh, but his expression lightened.

"Now, however," Hux said quietly to the floor, "Now that you mention it, and now that you're here..."

He couldn't finish changing his thoughts into words, but when he looked back up he knew it was fine: a tiny hint of a smile showed him that Ren understood.

(Last fragment! ...Oh gods, I wrote this a week ago, I can't believe it.)

[A few days later, maybe. Kylo and Hux are unsure of their status and what will happen. Kylo is no longer a follower of Ren just as Hux is no longer a general, and both need new identities now. Luke, Rey, and R2-D2 still have no idea what's going on. Maybe Finn is with Poe, BB-8, C-3PO, and Chewie somewhere. The Resistance has given its prisoners a little more slack, mainly b/c they haven't tried to escape or kill anyone yet. Leia keeps visiting Kylo, while Han hangs back more.]

A loud thud shook the wall, the old metal-plated door rattling on its hinges but managing to hold firmly in place. Hux watched the guards jump to full attention, and one rose from his seat when another crash was heard. The other grabbed his arm, and he obediently sat again. They had been ordered not to disturb General Organa unless, and Hux mentally quoted, "the Falcon landed." He had mentally rolled his eyes at the time, thinking, Just say the man's name. We all know it. No need to be so vague.

The room was quiet for a long time, even the indistinct murmur of Organa's calm voice had stopped. Whatever she had to say had dried up for now. She would try again later, of course. She had been visiting each day, around the same time, without fail.

Two slow knocks on the door made both guards stand straight to either side of it, and then it opened. Hux stared through the narrow gap, and behind Organa he caught a glimpse of Kylo's long lean back and a few locks of his too-long hair resting on his hunched shoulders. Hux knew what was in the room and that Kylo had chosen to sit cross-legged on the floor. He had probably meditated to block Organa out while she tried to get a response of any kind. Judging by the noises earlier, she had succeeded and he had not.

She stopped in front of Hux, where he had also chosen to sit on the floor but leaning against a wall with an elbow on a raised knee. He didn't look away from the tiny gap under the now-locked door.

"He won't acknowledge me or anyone else." The rest of what she wanted to say hung in the air between them.

"Not my problem," Hux said, bite lurking under the coolness. He gazed steadily up at her, silent for a beat before he continued, "You wanted a 'chance.' That was the word you used."

Organa didn't react outwardly, not a single muscle in her face even twitching. Then she nodded at the guards and Hux stood without their help. He held out his wrists and only faintly heard the chain clatter to the ground, somewhere below where it was welded to the wall he'd been leaning against.

As soon as the dented door was pushed open wide enough to allow him through, he was in the room and forgetting everyone and everything outside of it.

He took a deep breath, but said nothing, eyes locked on Kylo's back. An empty palm was offered, and he immediately took two long strides and kneeled to take it. Hux squeezed briefly and felt the action mimicked. Kylo's face was still turned away, his head bowed. Hux combed the fingers of his other hand through dark hair, carefully untangling knots as he found them, his arm settling across Kylo's back.

After a few minutes, Kylo's free hand reached up to stop Hux's. He held it close to his face, sliding it over smooth skin and bristly beard to lightly chapped lips. Hux felt a single slow lap of velvety tongue on the skin between his thumb and index. When Kylo breathed on it, moist warmth hitting cooling moisture, Hux shivered. He gave Kylo's hand another squeeze and leaned his temple against the side of Kylo's hunched shoulder.

[Finally, some intimacy alone. The loud noises = the medical kit being slammed into the wall (using excessive Force), and a vial of liquid (tranquilizer? drink with medication mixed in it?) being dropped from ceiling-height to smash on the floor (using minimal Force). The switch to "Kylo" was all I had... I have no clue what his or Hux's next names would be, and I doubt they do either at this point.]

(THAT'S IT. I'M DONE. ...Well, I have an extra set of notes, concerning ideas for Kylo's past/present injuries, but no one needs that.)

(Because more than one person asked for it, I'm just gonna toss this up here without edits and run away again...)

[From my Notepad notes one day: the possibilities of Kylo's injuries. ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS just in case.]

[I make lists when I brainstorm, okay? Lists and details are my lifeblood. I'm really not this morbidly fascinated by maiming and torture and body horror and bleh, I promise. I couldn't even write half of this stuff into sentences and paragraphs. These kinds of descriptions are better left to the imagination anyway, I think. That being said... I wish I'd implied more of it.]

Injury catalog:

- Scar tissue
--- Exposure from extreme heat or cold? -- he's been burned or scalded (large areas, needed skin grafting)
--- Branding? -- symbols or words -- like badly done prison tattoo work
--- Slashes from whippings or floggings
--- No body parts are missing, but scar positioning indicates it was threatened (half-ring around wrist, behind ear, etc.)
--- Has a piece of something stuck in him that would be dangerous/difficult to remove (near spine? lung? not heart or brain) -- maybe it's a fragment of his own bone instead of shrapnel or some broken weapon -- worry about it being hit? it moving?

Kylo feels disconnected from his body -- pain, pleasure, hunger, thirst, etc. don't affect him much -- he's aware, but has no desire outside of physiology
Physical needs are handled impersonally, distantly -- going through the motions
His connection with Hux is more emotional than anything -- trust and support -- only stability he has -- no codependency for either

- Old wounds reopened
--- Kylo picks at his scabs habitually (sometimes idly, sometimes purposefully), slowing down healing and making scars worse -- Hux would spitefully overdo bandaging/taping as a deterrent/to make Kylo have to consciously work at it
--- But he doesn't mess with stitches on purpose -- this time, stitches have been not just torn but removed

Snoke ordered the other Knights of Ren to "purify" their leader -- ritualistic, reverant maiming for his physical body
They didn't do anything to the neck and up? Partly because his face should be presentable, and partly because...
The Force was used on Kylo's mind and nerves to give him feelings -- both emotions and sensations -- brainwashing?
The physical torture was used as a focus for the mental torture
He can't feel much of it naturally, so excruciating pain is induced by tricking his mind
Extra sadistic bonus: can do more to the mind than to the body -- comatose vs. dead
Insanity and paranoia not the endgame, but nice side effects -- want broken into submission, loyalty, dependence, etc.

- New wounds
--- Dislocated fingers? Shoulder? Limp arm?
--- No big slashes, but puncture wounds in specific places -- in a design?
--- Alien creature attack? (bite marks, claw marks, etc.) -- oh, maybe dead creature bones/fossils/weapons used in ritual
--- Poison/skin irritant? (from animal, from plant)
--- Rope burns -- he was tied down as part of the ritual... or suspended... again, arm injury?
--- Fractures and sprains? -- wrists, ankles
--- Bruising and swelling -- abdomen/ribs? -- some shaped like fingers on his arms and legs
--- Signs of infection, dirt/etc. -- at least keep 'em clean, Kylo, jeez
--- No sexual assault -- not necessary, what with everything else they do to him

After getting to the Resistance: Poe punched him in the face, maybe more than once before getting dragged off Kylo -- Kylo didn't defend himself at all, he didn't react at all (no smirk or bloody smile), which only pissed off Poe more (fight back, damn you!)

(Just to reiterate, this is from brainstorming. I wouldn't have used everything in the story.)