The General's Wife

5. The Finalizer

It would be impossible to tell who was more nervous about Cara's impending transition to living aboard the Finalizer, her or the General. Both felt shaky and uncertain at the prospect, and both quivered in nervous anticipation, although the General was much better at hiding it.

His abrupt departure the day Cara sent the misinterpreted message had raised questions which he'd managed to deflect from everyone but Supreme Leader Snoke himself, and as a consequence of that, Kylo Ren. He'd done his best to minimize the situation, but in a room with two mind readers there was little to hide. Thankfully Snoke was less interested in Hux's feelings and more in the dedication to the First Order, an easy thing for Hux to reassure him of. Kylo Ren however, was nosy and insistent; showing up uninvited at different times of the day when Hux was busy hunkered over some intelligence reports on his datapad and trying to pilfer his thoughts with little concern for subtlety. On the morning he received word from Cara that she was still not with child, he had no sooner sent his reply telling her to pack her bags than he felt the familiar tickling sensation on the lobes of his brain that told him Ren was sifting through thoughts he had no business viewing.

"Get out of my head Ren," he growled lowly, not sure if the man was close by enough to hear but not wanting their conversation heard by anyone else if he wasn't. Even from across the room Hux knew the Leader of the Knights of Ren would not be able to miss the demand.

"Very interesting," the cold reply came from directly behind Hux and he turned slowly on his heel, wanting to deliver a punch but resisting the urge, instead drawing closer to the man clad all in black, peering into that ridiculous mask before repeating his directive. "Get. Out. Of. My. Head."

"So testy," Ren rebuked him in a voice that was teasing but tinged with malice, "I just enjoy seeing this girl who had so enraptured you with her charms, and you her by the looks of things. It would appear you've both found more enjoyment in the procreation process than you let on. Well done, General."

Hux quelled the victorious feeling that rose in his chest at the backhanded compliment, "My wife will be here by the end of the night. I don't think I have to tell you to keep your distance from her. She is delicate, and inexperienced at dealing with the likes of spoiled, saber-wielding psychopaths as yourself. The Supreme Leader will not be pleased if I have to approach him about your behaviour towards the mother of my unborn child, no matter how much he allows you to get away with."

"You overestimate your importance to him and underestimate mine. I could ask the Supreme Leader to give me your wife and he would demand it to be done, so I would be careful. She's also not the mother of your unborn child, at least not yet, so I can only imagine how often you two will be going at it in attempts to rectify that. Regardless, I think you'll find that the more exceptions you make for her the more the Supreme Leader's interest will be piqued and the harder it will be to keep her from finding out about what you do. That is the underlying reason you didn't want her to come, is it not? It can't be just fear of me." His smug tone and the oncoming headache from Ren's attempts at reading his mind were maddening and he struggled to spit out, "What I do with my wife and what I choose to tell her or not tell her is between us and the Supreme Leader. I don't know what possessed you to think you have any say in my marriage since it's hard to believe anyone would choose to tie their life to someone as insufferable as yourself, but stay away from my wife, do you hear me? It won't end well for you."

Ren chuckled from beneath his mask, "As you wish, General," and as he left Hux got a fleeting image projected onto him from Ren of Cara, spread-eagled on her back with her mouth open in ecstasy as Ren pounded away between her legs, drawing the same reactions from her as her husband who could only watch from behind thick glass, pounding on its surface in a futile attempt to make them stop.