"Armitage."
He turned, standing on the bridge of Starkiller that was empty save from himself and the man in front of him who he walked toward, grasping his hands that became clammy.
"Yes, sir," he nearly whispered, meeting the gaze of his father who only looked down on him with disgust and disregard, ashamed of him.
"I cannot express enough how disappointed I am in you."
"I know, sir."
"Do you? You know just what you've done this time?"
His son shook his head timidly, looking down at his feet and the elder Hux's face curled into a sneer of disgust, the harsh lines of age and work cracking into place, the grey of his hair shifting when he raised his eyebrows, ghosts of red strands still lingering. Armitage was his father's son only in appearance to him. How else could he have produced such a snivelling wreck?
"No...sir."
"A woman...You have let your guard down to the extent you have allowed a woman to influence you, to wrangle with your emotions and lead you down a path of self-destruction!" Brendol Hux shouted, his words bouncing back against the metal walls of the bridge and his son flinched, closing his eyes knowingly as if that might make this less painful. "And I thought I had finally drilled some sense into you, boy."
He hit him so hard he stumbled, breathing heavily at the shock, with the pain lingering well into the next few minutes.
"I'm sorry..."
"'Sorry' does not cut it, Armitage. You do not cut it you pathetic excuse of a man."
"I'm sorry...but she is wonderful. She's smart; intelligent, she can help win this war. And she's beautiful. She's...I just wish she could be mine."
"She's not," his father snapped. "She is not 'yours', she never will be 'yours'. she doesn't love you. You think an apprentice to your Supreme Leader, with so much power and influence, could ever have so little respect for herself that she would want to be with a pitiful scab such as yourself?" Armitage nodded in agreement at this, knowing him to be right. He was always right... "You were only meant to work with her, barely even that, not whatever his pathetic mess is..."
"General." A flash of fluttering back fabric flew past him and Amelia stopped between them. She noticed her interruption and stepped back, radiant and glowing, knowing full well she could bring planets to their knees with just the snap of her fingers. She had certainly bent Armitage to her will. Her dress was revealing but sophisticated and when she met her colleague's eyes he froze, paralysed by her beauty. "I'm sorry. Excuse me."
"No, do stay," Brendol said and she nodded. "Come closer...You are her if I'm not mistaken...the apprentice."
"Yes, sir," she replied. He jerked her head upward and held her chin, making her look at him and with this, as was consistent with his father, an act of aggression rather than respect or care. "Amelia..."
"Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman." His hand trailed down her arm to her waist but stopped when Armitage aggressively muttered for him not to touch her. That didn't stop his eyes from wandering. "Defending your lover, how very grown-up of you."
"Hardly." Amelia looked between the two of them with a look of astonishment. "I'm only a colleague of his, forced to work together. We don't love each other."
She turned to look at her acquaintance for an agreement but he sighed guiltily with a pained look in his eyes so she scoffed.
"Really? You've fallen for me, General? How pathetic." Her words sliced through him, burning his soul with hurt and when she laughed a patronising laugh he only felt his heart sink deeper. "After everything we've ever said, how we hate each other. How I hate you. I am so much more than you, more than you will ever be. You know I could never love you in return. Who could? Whining to me about your childhood, what your father did, how much you wished you could please him? Grow up! You know you deserve everything."
As she had spoken, she had stalked toward him making him back away. She gave him a sneer then looked back at Brendol.
"I suppose you tried your best with what you were given..." she muttered and Armitage shook his head in disbelief and fear at how spiteful she could be. This wasn't her...
"Nevertheless, Miss Amelia, while you have been most useful, I regret that you are still too much of a distraction for my son."
The blaster shot blew a hole through her stomach before she could react, or maybe she didn't want to now she knew his true feelings, and she fell to the floor in a heap, coughing and spluttering, only alive long enough for Armitage to fall beside her and scoop her into his arms, pushing her hair back.
"Amelia.."
"You did this..."
"Amelia..." he whispered, tears threatening to drip which his father saw, disgusted, raising his weapon to his son's head.
"I have done you a favour...worthless boy."
***
Amelia was woken early when she was jolted by the General beside her who kept moving around in his sleep, fidgeting; a look of hurt was stricken across his face, wet with sweat.
She sat up a little on her arm, wondering whether reaching out to him would be an acceptable thing to do, but the pain he was so obviously suffering broke her heart. She didn't know what to do whether to wake him or let him sleep off the nightmare.
She became particularly concerned though when he began to talk, a quiver in his voice she had never heard before.
"...Amelia...no, don't hurt Amelia..." he muttered and she shuffled closer. What could warrant his concern for her like this? "Amelia..."
"General, wake up. I'm here, it's alright." She gently shook his shoulder and pushed back his hair when he got worse. "General!"
He opened his eyes when she shook him harder and took in his surroundings, breathing rapidly and wiping the sweat from his forehead, meeting her hand there which made him look over.
"...Amelia," he whispered and she nodded, leaning over him to turn on the light. Upon seeing her in the yellow glow he relaxed a little. "Amelia."
"Yeah, it's me...I'm here." She gave him a small reassuring smile and he leant back again, running a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. "Are you alright? What happened...?"
"What?"
"You...You were thrashing around in your sleep, calling my name. Are you okay?"
"It's nothing... I'm fine." He pushed her off him and pulled back the covers, walking to the bathroom and leaning hunched over the sink, leaving her on her own. She sat, dejected slightly and worried by herself, trying to see into the bathroom at what was wrong but to no avail.
He splashed cold water over his face to dull his red skin and looked into the mirror at the mess of a man before him with water now dripping from the front of his hair, dishevelled from the tiresome nature of unrequited love for the woman murdered in his dreams who sat oblivious in the other room. His worst fears were realised in his head that she could never return such feelings or want to, not when he pushed her away and was who he was. Why would she ever want anything to do with him when she was so perfect?
He pulled his shirt off to splash the water down his neck, eyes landing on the end of a scar curling over his shoulder, and when he placed his hand over it the ghost of pain that inflicted it rippled through him; he saw the angry, disappointed eyes of the man who had dealt him it. The version of Amelia he saw in his dreams was right: she could never love him and he had deserved every stroke that remained immortalised in his skin.
"General."
He jumped a little when Amelia appeared in the doorway who stepped away slightly but watched him with a heavy pain in her heart. He turned to hide his back that the landscape of scars littered in an array of sizes and colours, ages and depths. Amelia wasn't sure what to say only shivered at the sight of his agony.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
"I don't believe you," she whispered with the smallest of smiles to break the tension, hugging her arms to her chest. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"No," he said quietly. "You go back to bed. I'll be alright."
"I'm not tired..." She walked over with a towel and gently dried his face then hair. He stopped her from going any further, to his back. "What...?"
"I just...I don't want you to...I know you saw it. They're ugly and...I deserve it."
"No," she said simply and he looked at her, dark hair framing her face, contrasting with the glow of her skin, even after just waking up. "Is that what you were afraid of? What woke you up?"
"...Among other things..."
She moved a little closer and he let her touch the aged, white mark curling around his shoulder then traced it around to place her small hand between his shoulder blades where the deepest, reddest scar lay, cutting through them like a comet in the sky.
He relaxed a little at her touch, the warmth spreading through his skin like wildfire. He looked down when she sighed a frustrated, angry sigh, remaining composed in the face of what she was seeing, at the torment this man she loved, albeit unrequitedly, had suffered.
"Who did this..." she murmured coldly as if she might be able to deliver him some justice but she suspected she already knew.
"Take a guess..." he replied in a whisper and she closed her eyes, pressing her lips together to staunch her outrage.
"Your father did this?... When you told me he...I didn't..."
"Just...leave it alone. It doesn't matter," he said, becoming a little self-conscious as if she might hate him for it. He had spent so long hiding it he almost wished it could stay that way, but she was so gentle with him and so kind, he was almost content.
"It's okay...you don't have to hide anything from me. I'm not going to judge you..." she whispered, taking his shoulder as she looked up at him, almost pressed to his chest. She wanted nothing more than to be the one to hold him and be his comfort, try to kiss away the pain.
The moment was so pure, so still that anything could happen, any number of impossible things, as if that pocket of time was completely separate from reality and whatever happened there wouldn't affect them. If either of them did what they wanted to do it wouldn't hurt them, it wouldn't be carried as some kind of burden, a secret between them.
He wished he had the nerve to take her face and press his lips to hers and not worry about what would happen when he pulled away, that maybe he might be able to hold onto that moment forever but it wasn't to be. There was no way he could jeopardise such a perfect moment as this, he couldn't do that to her.
"I'm so sorry..." she breathed to break the silence and he ever so slightly shook his head.
"Don't be. It's my fault, mine to deal with. I don't need to bring you into it."
He dragged himself away from her and she sighed to herself, following and turning off the light. She watched, with her arms wrapped around her as he fumbled to put on his watch at his bedside table with his back to her, the scars tensing with his shoulders in frustration.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting ready for work, what does it look like? I need to get ahead on some reports."
"Already? You've got ages...you should go back to bed, get some more sleep."
He shook his head, checking through messages on his datapad. "No, I've got things to see to. I should start early, do some further observation etcetera."
"I know you're tired. You'll only be miserable when we do more observations and I don't want to have to deal with you like that," She took the datapad and his watch off. "And I know you want to enjoy this mission...as much as you can do."
"Amelia, believe me, I can go as many days as I like without sleeping."
"Not tonight you're not."
"Under whose orders?"
"Mine, I'm your wife for the week, you have to do as I say," she said and he rolled his eyes. "Go on. You'll be alright, I'm right here."
"Fine..." he grumbled, slumping back down. "But I'm not that tired."
He was asleep in minutes and Amelia smiled to herself, knowing she was right and settled to get back to sleep herself, her back to him. But her eyes grew a little wide when he rolled over and unconsciously draped his arm around her waist.
She couldn't help but smile even more, looking over her shoulder at him as she placed her hand on his, gently running her thumb over it.
There was no denying she cared for him deeply and found in sleep a certain youthfulness that softened him, made him more normal in a way, not that she didn't always find him attractive. But there was a purity that leant itself to him on that ephemeral plane and briefly dragged him away from any real-life struggles, separating him from his past and his fears.
But even though his action was affectionate and made her feel all fuzzy inside, solidifying her feelings toward him, it was only an action, an accidental one at that. It meant nothing between them. He didn't love her or like her, he didn't even know he was doing it; she imagined he'd be disgusted to know he'd even touched her.
Still, though she embraced the moment for what it was, burying her head in her pillows and closing her eyes, smiling gently at his warm breath against her neck, cutting through the silence of the room. His arm was warm against her waist, calming her, making her feel comfortable and loved in a way she had never felt before. Being held like this was the most serene she had ever been and it was so simple, yet so wonderful.
She never wanted him to let go because then the moment would end, then the world would start to turn once more and continue its torment of her. So she savoured it, content and happy as she slowly drifted off to sleep...
Though, they only had a few more hours to rest as they were soon woken by his alarm. She stirred with a frustrated sigh, finding them both in the same position as they had been and reaching back to gently smack him which worked to wake him up seeing as he seemed to be deliberately ignoring the incessant tone beside him.
"Oi...gingernut, wake up..."
"...What..." He opened his eyes with a similar sigh to her own, taking in how close he was, so much so her hair tickled his face and his arm had found itself around her. "Oh."
He didn't know it but she hadn't gone back to sleep and was half waiting for his reaction, hoping it wouldn't be completely dehumanising. Strangely though he didn't immediately pull his arm away, instead contemplated the situation, getting lost in it almost as he ran a thumb over her nightdress which only made her shudder.
But he quickly came to his senses, apologising by getting up and ripping his hand away, leaving her cold and replaying the warmth over and over again in her mind.