Chapter Text
The burning sensation in his chest blossomed throughout the entirety of his body, leaving him unable to sound out his pains regardless of how much his tight throat tried to scream. It was not the first time Hux got shot, far from it, one didn't become a general without getting at least one life threatening injury, but this one felt different. It felt like the end. And wasn't that what he wanted? He wasn't stupid enough to expect his little treachery would go unnoticed, not after letting them go, not without Ren here.
By all means he had brought this upon himself with complete knowledge it would end like this, and for what?
You don't know how to accept failure; the voice in his mind supplied.
It used to sound like different people throughout the years, but right now the voice was entirely like his own.
You would rather kill yourself than fail.
Wouldn't you?
This one wasn't, and back then the statement was ridiculous.
Because Hux would kill himself for less.
He almost did, thrown into the expense of endless water and unable to grasp at anything to pull himself out. All for the simple knowledge of what laid below.
He expected to find the bodies– or at least helmets of the missing students, but what greeted him was a pit of endless black, and inside it a pulsing shapeless monstrosity that called to him in a way only schematics he would craft in his head ever could.
A being of misunderstanding that craved to be witnessed and brought to existence.
And he couldn't do it if it swallowed him, couldn't he? but that was long ago, so long he had almost forgotten it until this feeling of death stirred his mind into remembering.
He supposed it didn't matter. Pryde's feet were getting blurry and the sounds of Stormtroopers who were ordered to drag his body away started to become distant, as distant as the sound of the water hitting the shore…
Water?
Not this one.
A voice whispered, one that wasn't his own nor a memory– a voice he didn't know, one so real and commanding his eyes flew open at the same time someone's bony fingers grasped at his throat.
He couldn't discern the face of whoever was strangling him. Their hair was too long, it stretched over their features, completely covering them in a sick sort of embrace, tight and wet almost like the strands were alive and not just lifeless strings made out of keratin.
Their grip tightened, not in a greedy, power hungry way he was accustomed to, more in a way that screamed faintly of panic, of desperation.
They seemed surprised when he started to struggle, he didn't know how he knew that without seeing their face, he just did.
Not this one.
The voice from before repeated, clearer, closer.
The fingers on Armitage's goozle trembled from frustration, from…
What was that feeling?
So distinct, so very sour.
He could almost feel it on his tongue, or maybe that was the sea water.
The void was flooding, waves hitting his side with far too much power. His every gasp, every struggle against the cold hands that gripped him was soon going to become much harder when the water reaches his face.
He tried to kick at the person above him but they were too heavy, too strong.
He started tugging at their hair instead, hard enough he managed to get their head closer to his own, but not hard enough for them to let go.
Another wave hit them, this one big enough to cover Armitage's mouth for a second, long enough for him to loose his grip on the attackers wrists. They used these precious seconds well, well enough to make sure Hux's hands wouldn't be strong enough to come back up to defend his windpipe.
The figure was nothing else but a blurry shape right now, he almost didn't notice the second one sneaking its way behind them.
It said something, placing its hands on the long haired figures temples.
His attacker screamed, awfully so like a dog who's only ever known touch from a hand armored with a leather belt. Their grip loosened and Hux's body reacted before he could even think to breathe.
A gasp escaped them, so quiet, but so telling.
He knew what emotion that sour taste came from.
Betrayal.
Soon their position changed, now he was the one in charge, and the water was high enough to do the most of the job for him. His body felt weak, but somehow he kept his grip steady as he held their head down until the air bubbles stopped coming out of their pale mouth.
The pain of their nails scratching his forearms hard enough to draw blood was a distant ache in the back of his head as his body was still focused on trying to pump as much oxygen to his blood as it could.
He haven't even noticed when they stopped moving.
The second figure stood above him unmoved by the display of violence, steady against the harsh waves, blurry and faint– like a ghost.
Their head moved down, gaze shifting towards the motionless body underneath him.
Only… It wasn't as motionless as it was ought to be.
Something was moving underneath Hux's palm, it glowed a faint red– the only discernible color in this place; he realized.
He grasped at it, or tried to, his hand hitting an obstacle
The rapidly beating thing was buried deep within the strangers chest. Hux froze, staring at it, starting to unravel the fabric covering the flesh of the man he just murdered– flesh that was far too translucent to be organic.
The figure above him sighed with pity, looking at him as if he was supposed to sympathize, their dark eyes– which were the only thing visible underneath the layers of gray cloths covering their body, had a disgustingly guilty shine to them.
The air stank of betrayal.
For some reason it made him angry.
Being upset on behalf of someone he just killed was a completely new feeling, perhaps stranger than this whole thing combined.
Hux had forgotten about it as soon as he looked back down.
With the use of both hands he unraveled the synthetic flesh of the man's chest and reached for what laid beneath it.
It bled.
That's one way to describe it, not like a human would, no, but close enough to use that word.It was small enough to fit in his hand, dark red in color, circular and sticky, heavy, solid and… not at the same time.
The pulse it continued to emit even when severed from the body it belonged to was frighteningly electric. It echoed in Hux's ears, the feeling not unlike listening to his own heartbeat. The red covered his whole hands now and the dead man underneath him…
Then it spread, willing the water to share its shade.
Only now he realized that the second figure was gone. There was nothing else to do but to let the water rise and rise until it covered him completely along with the lifeless corpse and the pulsing shapeless monstrosity that called to him so sweetly like a mother to a child who's still in the womb, not yet tainted by the world, still innocent enough to be thought of with love.
The idea of a creation yet to be known in it's true form.
A being of misunderstanding that craved to be witnessed and brought to existence.
Something that in the right hands could kill stars.
Something that this time Hux let himself be swallowed by.
…
He didn't wake with a scream or a curse, he came to slowly trying to grasp at faint memories of the time in between death and now, but the harder he tried the more they were slipping away like sand between his fingers. It doesn't matter, people hallucinate the strangest of things when death comes knocking, and Hux too underneath it all was unfortunately just a human thing with a mind that under right conditions would play tricks on him.
"Are you alright General?"
This too was one of these tricks it seemed. A dead woman before him, Phasma. She had her hand outstretched towards him as if to steady.
What a ridiculous vision.
Only then he realized he was on the Finalizer, two Stormtroopers hovering behind Phasma's shoulder, as if knowing they should retreat, but unwilling to risk angering their Captain.
"General?"
Hux's vision spun, his heart going from a steady beat to hammering a mile a minute.
He tried not to show it.
"Excuse me, what were we talking about?"
Phasma gave him only a slightly judgemental once over, before eventually moving away to her usual distance when conversing, her hand retracted as well now tucked neatly behind her. Any sliver of professional worry forgotten.
"Our soon to be arrival on Jakku, It's a good opportunity to test out our not yet field trained Troopers. I have a good feeling about the new batch, they have been making progress during training, and––"
Without meaning to his mind drowned out Phasma's idle chatter.
He remembered this conversation, his responses came automatically just like they did the first time.
The first time…
Because somehow Hux found himself in the past.
This was… impossible.
He squeezed his hands into tight fists, letting the material of his gloves take all the damage his nails wanted to inflict.
Other than being impossible this situation was also an opportunity, and one thing he could never allow himself to do was to let an opportunity go to waste.
First he'll check if this is real, not some force trick or a pathetic product of his fading consciousness, but once he's sure there won't be anything holding him back…
This time would be different, this time he'll win.
And he's going to personally make sure that Ren's head will end up on a stake, out of his mask for all to see and enjoy.
Hux is going to cease stars, just how he was always supposed to, and for once the universe seemed to be on his side.
Not this time.
A voice echoed throughout the corridor, a voice that wasn't there. His heart skipped a beat.
The universe seemed to be on his side, more or less…
This was nothing he couldn't find a way to deal with.