Chapter Text
Hux
Hux would agree (only after torture that was potentially life threatening) that he was no longer fit for duty given all circumstances their proper consideration.
It was not a conclusion he was settled with mentally; he would hardly ever give up his rank, his career, or even his respectability for the sake of his health. However, it seemed the medical personnel had finally seen through his coding cheats, and realized that the data on their forms had been forged by their patient.
A human would be able to see through the trick, but with all the budget cuts they had to make over the past year since his weapon was approved for construction, the filing had been left to droids. This was reason enough to avoid Medical; Hux rather hated droids. Especially ones that were meant for the care of a living being with needs that a machine could never understand.
Nevertheless, there was a sort of mutiny, which resulted in three medical staff nursing their own injuries while the others tended to their general.
“Sir, this isn’t healthy. According to our scans-”
Here, Hux tuned her out. The young officer appeared nervous to be speaking with someone so important, but nevertheless firm in her conviction. Hux paid her no mind as he played with the edge of his glove.
They didn’t even take off his uniform to check him. Granted, he had broken three arms of those who had tried and snarled at anyone who came near, but that made their treatment no better than the droids. He would gladly pass on that.
A memory pulled into his thoughts.
Painful blisters, sheets, gentle hands, boyish brown eyes flecked with gold, cold water, and a pair of lips.
A voice shattered his train of thought, “Sir?”
“What?” Hux could not help the snap, and didn’t feel guilty as the nurse jumped away in fright.
“I-I was just saying that I already took the liberty of having your aide clear out your schedule for the next 24 hours for medical leave-”
“And why would you go and do a stupid thing as that!?” Hux’s earlier irritation now became full rage, and it took every ounce of control not to lash out at her.
“Sir, you are malnourished and sleep deprived. I understand that running the First Order is a hard ordeal, but-”
“You are correct, you don’t understand.” Hux interrupted once more. “I am not in a position to rest and if you cared at all for the First Order-”
“General, Sir, as a medical professional and as stated in my commission and contract, I am allowed to assign medical leave to those who would better serve the Order if they have medical leave, which includes, but not limited to, generals.”
Her sudden declaration left Hux speechless. He had no argument left in him (he would later blame that he was either drugged or too tired to come up with a counter) so Hux was sent away with a medical bracelet and a 24 hour leave. Hux tugged at the flimsy plastic band as he sulked down the halls, but could not remove it no matter how hard he tugged.
Leave was the last thing Hux wanted at the moment. In fact, he could argue that medical leave could be counterproductive to his mental state, but the argument was already over.
Damn.
It was when he wasn’t working when the demons began whispering. It was the silence that was their invitation, and Hux was determined to never give them a chance. Working had given him his solace, but every night before he slept, they would return. He had tried white noise, but even that only kept them at bay for a few days. Crashing waves only triggered more unpleasant things, and he quit that idea before even giving it a proper try.
I don’t need to know if it works or not though experimentation; that night was wretched.
Hux turned a corner and found himself faced with the doors to the officer’s cantina. He could hear the chatter inside and felt his stomach clench in sickly dread.
The officers’ gossip has become unbearable. Ever since we returned…
He shook his head to do away with his thoughts before rounding the threshold and entering the room.
The transition was instantaneous. People sat straighter, conversation topics changed, and the voices lulled to a more subdued volume. A few stared pointedly at their trays of food as if their meals were the most interesting things they had ever seen. One even paled and hid behind a taller officer.
Hux schooled his expression to be austere, and merely went to the caf station as though the change didn’t bother him.
However, it did. He used to enjoy changing the room’s dynamic with just his presence, but that was when he never socialized and didn’t care for other’s opinion. However, with the discovery of comradeship, the power he once loved became a stab of anxiety he never knew he possessed.
This was why he normally frequented the cantina during dead hours, not when almost every officer was preparing for first shift. Including him.
As if on instinct, his eyes found him without even searching. His gaze was a magnet, and he was the opposing pole.
Mitaka, however, did not return the look. He kept to his conversation with his friend, Thanisson, as innocent as ever. As innocent as he is guilty for Hux’s agony.
“Sir?” a welcome voice said in the midst of the tumultuous sensations Hux was experiencing.
“Phasma,” Hux greeted, turning his head to the chrome armored captain.
She had joined their ranks officially not a month before and had already proven her place amongst the best officers. In the year at the trooper academy, she had proven far beyond her cadet years and rose to graduation in just two semesters. Hux immediately snatched his chance, and collected her personally, rather than through a dull and impersonal invitation message. She was as regal and sarcastic as ever, and the familiarity was much appreciated for the both of them. Kylo Ren waited for their arrival and demanded her for a mission with insurgents as a test for the Supreme Leader.
Amazingly, she not only did well under the pressure with her new unit, but also formed a perfect combat relationship with Kylo Ren. Everyone was pleased, including Snoke.
“I heard there was a commotion on the Bridge this morning,” Phasma said, filling a thermos with hot water.
Hux didn’t want to ask how she was going to drink that with her helmet on, or why she was even here with full armor, until he remembered who was in the room with them. Instinctually, his eyes flicked back to Mitaka and his friend, the ex-husband. The motion was brief, and thankfully a micro-expression.
“Yes, I was dragged to Medical,” he conceded.
“Sir?”
“It seems I now am forced for medical leave for the next 24 hours. The damned nurse was angry.”
“I see, Sir.” This was her reply when she obviously had more thoughts on the matter, but understood her rank. Otherwise it would be a simple, “yes, Sir.”
The corner of Hux’s mouth twitched towards a smile, but that was all. No doubt once she was off the clock, she would voice her opinion on the matter. He may be off the clock, but she wasn’t.
“Regardless, I intend to finish those reconnaissance reports.”
“Sir, I don’t want to be the bringer of bad news, but standard medical leave procedure requires the patient’s server to be locked down. It’s likely that you will not be able to work at all.”
Hux’s eyebrow twitched, and took a sip of caf.
“I see. Do you require your datapad, Captain?”
“I do not. But it’s unlikely you’ll be able to log in. I said the server is locked, not the device.
Hux’s caf cup exploded in a splash of coffee and glass. It was lucky that he was wearing gloves, or else he would’ve returned to medical with burns and shards stuck in his flesh. Also, he was sure he wasn’t technically allowed to drink caf when he was supposed to be sleeping. No doubt they would punish him further. How embarrassing.
It was at this moment he realized that the room had gone quiet, and all eyes were now on him. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and his complexion flush in humiliation. Phasma reached for another cup and filled it with de-caf.
“It’s only 24 hours, Sir. Or in this case 23 hours and 51 minutes,” she comforted, pressing the cup to his other hand. “Besides, I recall a great leader say in a recent speech that we all make sacrifices for the First Order.”
Hux scoffed and took the decaf with a roll of his eyes.
“Flattery does not become you, Captain. Spare me.”
“As you say, Sir.” This, she said when she had no intention of following orders.
Hux bit back a smile as he turned away, snatching a piece of toast from the dispenser. Ignoring how the room gave a sigh of relief once he crossed the threshold, he made his way towards his office. If he couldn’t get his digital work finished, then at least he can look over his plans on paper. Medical couldn’t stop him from that. He’ll have to use a different clearance code than his own to get to his workspace, but it paid to be in charge of everyone else’s codes.
A second set of steps matched his own regulated march. They were too heavy to be a trooper or an officer, and anyone else wouldn’t dare come near him. That left only one possibility.
Kylo Ren.
Hux stopped and turned to face him.
“Do you require something?” he growled, already annoyed at the masked Knight.
Kylo Ren just stared back with no hint of emotion. Hux once again thought for the umpteenth time about how much he hated that bucket. Phasma’s helmet held more emotion than this hunk of scrap garbage.
“The Supreme Leader will most likely ask of the Trooper Army status in our meeting.”
“Yes, which I am sure you can handle on your own. I will not be there, as I have been forced on medical leave.”
“You can’t dodge this, Hux,” Ren instantly commanded, though underneath there was a sense of panic.
There was the agreement among the two after their adventure across the galaxy last year that the decided story was Ren found Phasma, and Hux just made plans of the Trooper’s training and origin based off his ideas in the academy. Neither were true: Hux had found Phasma, and the notes from his father’s diary about an ideal army without the usage of cloning.
The lie proved to the Supreme Leader that they worked together. Snoke claimed that it was a test all along for their compatibility as Co-Commanders. Hux felt exasperated the more he thought about that conversation, and it didn’t help that Ren felt compelled to remind him of their agreed story.
How annoying…
Regardless, this was the first time Ren would have to face the subject alone, and obviously he didn’t feel prepared. Why should he? Hux had always taken care of it. He suddenly had a distinctly relatable sensation as birds did when they threw their young out of the nest to force them to learn to fly. Otherwise, they’d never do it.
“I have a report written up,” Hux said, rubbing his temple with the side of his hand that was holding his toast. “And already sent to you about our numbers, stages of training and development, and the commanders in charge. I sent it to you last night.”
“I’ve read it.”
A pause.
“So what do you want ?” Hux snarled.
“I do not require anything,” Kylo Ren claimed.
Hux felt throbbing on the side of his head where his hand just was. His face pinched into displeasure.
“Ren. Out. Now.” He forced through gritted teeth, the pressure causing more strain than his annoyance. At once, the presence slipped out like liquid through a straw.
“You’re slipping, Hux,” Kylo Ren mused. “What will your crew think?”
“No doubt think that you are pestering me again with pointless conversations.”
“Then they look, but do not see.”
Kylo Ren then stalked off, leaving Hux hanging onto a plethora of curses that were not all in basic. He let out a deep breath as he mentally counted in binary.
I must not think about it. It will only annoy me…
Kylo Ren had begun speaking in riddles for some time, and Hux wasn’t sure why. If this fact were not shocking enough, he destroyed even less consoles now. Hux supposed it was because he disappeared with his knights to train with his master for long periods of time, which made the Finalizer’s air more breathable.
Perhaps it’s a Force user trait? They all were rather ambiguous. Even the Jedi, apparently…
Feeling his irritation abate just a little bit, Hux took a bite from his toast and threw the rest of the stale bread into a garbage chute and continued towards his office.
No matter how much time had passed over the last year, Kylo Ren and Mitaka had both become unbearable for entirely different reasons, neither of which he wanted to deal with right now.
Mitaka
“Just one piece of toast, Phel.” Thanisson said suddenly.
His head was turned back to look over his shoulder at the doorway where Hux had just left from. Mitaka didn’t look up from his plate.
“Hm?"
“Yesterday it was two. Now it’s just one.”
“Alright,” Mitaka shrugged, driving his utensil into the rationed food a little harder than warranted.
Thanisson watched the movement with a keen eye. He and Rodinon had taken to studying him more than ever. Neither could understand why Mitaka was so insistent of paying no mind at all to the one man who wanted desperately for all his attention. Yes, Aeon agreed that Mitaka was right to reject the bastard, but that didn’t mean torture the man with indifference.
“You’re ignoring me,” Thanisson proclaimed.
“I’m thinking,” Mitaka replied.
“You’re always thinking when I mention Hux,” came the quick jab punctuated with an eye-roll.
“Hm?” Mitaka hummed more to aggravate Thannison than any real absence of mind. Instead of irking his friend with the jest, Aeon burst into a smug grin and pointed his fork at Mitaka.
“Point made,” he said in triumph. Now Mitaka gave his own annoyed eye-roll.
“Aeon-”
Thanisson raised his hand to stop him. “I’ve been talking with Liet.”
“Of course you have, he’s your partner ,” Mitaka said with a teasing smile. Thanisson shook his head at the poke.
“Liet said that last night he didn’t leave his office until the early morning shift.”
Mitaka sighed. Of course Rodinon would be on the lookout for Hux as well. He had the late shift, and held the same duties as Mitaka. Even down to reporting and filing. Only their shift time was different. So naturally Rodinon would know when Hux would leave, and didn’t make it a mystery to Mitaka either.
“So, he’s busy,” Phel decided.
“He’s falling apart, more like.”
Mitaka pauses and gazes at his friend searchingly.
Just one year and the anger Thanisson harbored all his life at the murderer of his first love had exchanged to gratitude. The approval for divorce and remarriage had settled that. Now he was starting to show actual concern for Hux.
That or he thinks I have something to do with all of it.
“Are you implying that I should intervene?” Mitaka asked almost sarcastically.
Thanisson’s look gave away his friend’s sincerity he had put on as he pointed out, "You see him every day for the midday report."
“Yes.”
“You know him best because of-”
“ And ?” Mitaka cut him off, his irritation now apparent.
“Well,” Thanisson frowned with an equally displeased look. “I don’t want to be led by some frail shell that looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Only person who can talk to him and get to him is you .”
“Get to him…” Mitaka repeated slowly.
Oh yes, Mitaka had gotten to him all right. He had apparently made Hux desperately in love with him at one point on Naboo. But now, one year later, it had simmered to a simple prolonged look every now and again that was inappropriate, and never reciprocated. Mitaka couldn’t let himself give an inch. It was dangerous if he did so.
“I mean… you know. ” Thanisson gestured wildly with his head, but Mitaka’s flat look didn’t change. The Petty Officer sighed and downed the last of his caf as he stood up.
“Okay, fine. But if this ship crashes into a sun because he can’t focus worth Kriff, I’m blaming you.”
He tossed his mug into a dish container for the droids to clean later and started for the door.
“You can’t blame me if we all are dead, which would happen long before we would reach the sun,” Mitaka called after him smartly. “That, and we won’t do that; our navi-computers are designed to brake or change directory long before we reach that point.”
“Kriff you Phel, you know what I meant!” Thanisson yelled over his shoulder as he left.
Mitaka chuckled and gathered his things to put away. Once finished, he left the cantina to begin at his shift on the bridge.
He didn’t care about Hux. He didn’t. Mitaka was as sure on this point as he was certain of his chances at winning a duel against Kylo Ren: none whatsoever. His mood towards his commanding officer depended on the day and circumstance.
When Hux was in a state of melancholy (which was often) Mitaka was indifferent. When Hux was in a rage, he was appalled. When Hux was good…Mitaka felt regret. He would argue with himself that it was only natural. He was witnessing Hux’s good and fair side, which would commonly make the onlooker think well of him, no matter of his past crimes. Mitaka was victim to this thinking, when he should be resolute in his indifference. Hux certainly had shown that he cared very little for Mitaka in the past year.
They said no more than necessary, and communed only for the report. Mitaka was content with this arrangement for the most part. But something had changed within Hux. Something was off about him. To many, it was Hux’s declining health and fair mannerisms as overworked stress took a toll on his body. To Mitaka, it was more with Hux’s discontentment. Something was bothering him, making him jumpy, anxious, stressed.
He could say it was the impending pressure of war and the New Republic’s potential discovery of their first officially weaponized base, but Mitaka knew Hux reveled in work stress. No, this was an emotional matter. There was no other explanation.
Now why anyone would think it was Mitaka’s duty to do anything was entirely based off the rumors and gossip of the personnel. They had gotten it in their heads that Mitaka, while not Hux’s Significant Other, was his babysitter. His “work-mother”. While Mitaka wouldn’t deny that he had a nurturing hand for the man at one point, he would not concede he still had such a thing. Besides, Hux would never accept help now; his pride was more fragile the less sleep he obtained. And if the new rumor was true, Hux hadn’t gained any rest at all for the past week.
Mitaka’s work for the day was light and by no means difficult. It was pleasant on the bridge, and the mood was easygoing (or as easygoing as a military ship can be). It was not till mid-shift did Mitaka feel a twist of dread in his gut.
The mid-shift report…
He avoided everyone’s eyes as he moved away from his console and gathered the reports from each sector supervisor. He could feel their gaze and expectancy as he did this, and wished them all blindness. His wish was ignored, so he deigned to ignore them too.
Down a hall and one clearance code later, he was inside Hux’s office.
“Report, Lieutenant,” Hux stated absentmindedly.
He was leaning over his desk screen heavily, his arms holding his body up from the surface. The blue glow of the light was brighter than normal, giving away the sickly paleness of his face. If this were not enough, the rings of black under his eyes and the sunken in optics highlighted the mawkish complexion. Mitaka could hardly speak, he was so shocked with this new revelation. He had always seen Hux at a fair distance, and when they were close, he chose not to see at all. But now… now he was forced to reckon with the state of his commanding officer’s plight.
Unbidden, the idea that he was the cause of this came to his mind.
“The report, Lieutenant.” Hux repeated, impatient.
Mitaka only continued to stare, though his eyes caught to a reflective texture upon Hux’s wrist. They fell upon it, widened, and remained at that same spot.
Hux followed his gaze and seemed to realize his plastic medical band was still on his wrist, with the diagnosis of leave peeking out from the sleeve. He growled and tried to yank it off, only to probably get a sore finger and wrist as a result. Damned things were indestructible, it seemed.
“Nothing to report, Sir, except to my commanding officer,” Mitaka finally said as Hux struggled.
“I am your commanding officer, Lieutenant!” Hux snapped, eyes blazing in half crazed adrenaline. Mitaka didn’t give a reply. Instead, he walked forward to the desk and set his datapad on the surface.
“They only can be cut off,” he said.
“What?” Hux asked dubiously.
“The bracelet.” Mitaka motioned to the infernal thing. “They aren’t meant to be ripped off. Only shears or a blade can remove it.”
Hux slowly lowered his arms to his sides and turned away. As he did so, Mitaka caught a glimpse of a blush over his abnormally pale face.
“Sir, please, you’re on Medical leave.” Mitaka’s voice coaxed, softer now. “Let Umino take the bridge. You said she was more than capable on multiple occasions.”
Hux did not turn as he replied grumpily, “Umino has Protocol 2-31 privileges to visit her wife on Laamu.”
Mitaka ignored the pang in his chest at the mention of that protocol. He tried another point.
“As much as I hate to suggest it…perhaps Lord Re-“
“Absolutely not.” Hux’s solid tone gave no room for further argument. Mitaka nodded and didn’t suggest it again. Hux was not the only person who didn’t want the knight in a position of power; for obvious reasons, the crew would probably start a revolt.
“Sir…permission to speak freely?” Mitaka said at last
Just how many times have I asked that? More than everyone else on this ship combined probably.
Hux nodded his head once. Mitaka started.
“Sir, I-“
“Hux.”
Mitaka blinked.
“What?”
Hux turned back to look full upon him, his eyes glazed over.
“Hux. You don’t have to call me sir here on Nab-…” the general seemed to remember where they were at, and his attention cleared as did his throat. “Continue, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, a lot of the officers and personnel here on the Finalizer believe you’ve been avoiding sleep for whatever reason,” Mitaka said. I hope you don’t find that necessity a weakness?”
“No, Lieutenant.” Hux waved a hand and sat at his desk again. “I just do not wish to retire from my work.”
“Your work won’t run away or disappear, Sir.” Mitaka pointed out, moving closer to the desk. “It will be here when you wake up.”
Hux put a hand to his temple and kneaded the flesh there.
“No, Lieutenant, it won’t disappear. Instead it will sit there and not be finished .”
His hand lowered and began to fiddle with his wrist once more. Mitaka pondered his argument a moment before speaking again.
“You wish to sleep when your work is done?”
“Yes. And as a general, my job is never done and- will this infernal thing come off already!?” Hus screamed at his wrist as he gave the bracelet another vicious yank. It seemed he had forgotten their earlier conversation already.
He must be completely out of it.
“Sir, I must protest.” Mitaka stood straighter to give an impression of confidence greater than he actually felt. “Please go back to your quarters and rest.”
“I am in earnest; I will not be defeated by a kriffing slip of plastic !”
“No, your mind will defeat itself instead.”
“You have already done that , Mitaka!” Hux slammed his fists on his console with such force that the glass cracked and sparked under the clash.
The screen turned into a spectrum of glitches, before dying completely. Neither of the men in the room were paying attention to that, however.
“I…what?” Mitaka stuttered out.
Hux’s throat bobbled with a large swallow and turned his face way to hide his expression
“Forget this,” he mumbled. “Dismissed.”
Mitaka’s resolve hardened for answers, but didn’t push that particular issue. Instead, he tackled another; a less explosive one, supposedly.
“Only if you return to your quarters and sleep, Sir . If it’s so hard to do so because of stress, perhaps you can request tranquilizers .”
“Dismissed , Mitaka.”
“Sir, I cannot allow myself to-”
“Get OUT , Dopheld!”
The usage of the first name had differing effects on them. One stumbled back at its exclamation, while the other dropped his head into his hands on his destroyed desk. Mitaka swallowed hard and felt his urge to help and his wish to flee fight for dominance over his actions. The compassion won.
“I will not.” Mitaka approached again. He tried to seem more self assured than he was actually feeling, though wasn't sure why he was doing this in the first place.
To hell with “why.”
“Please, listen to reason,” Mitaka pleaded. “You can’t do anything anyway because of your diagnosis, you are exhausted to the point of collapse, and you’ve barely stayed conscious in the spans of this conversation. How can you expect to do work now, when you will have to correct it later?”
Hux shook his head. He was quiet, but the tension in his shoulders caused hesitance in Mitaka furthering his argument. some of his gelled red hair came out of its security, and fell over his knuckles.
Mitaka forgot himself and brushed them away to their rightful place. Hux lowered his hands at last and seemed to move his head towards Mitaka’s hand. Whether the motion was conscious was another matter entirely, and one that Mitaka didn’t wish to address.
“Please, Sir…rest.”
Hux, as though possessed, stood up with eyes as vacant as the void outside. Mitaka almost smiled in triumph, before the feeling was killed in its infancy. Hux remained standing for only a beat before falling behind his desk and out of sight. Mitaka vaulted over the shattered surface and quickly came to his aid, to find Hux passed out and looking very ill.
Mitaka’s scream for medical echoed across the hall and into the bridge, where Kylo Ren stood ready to take command, a hand outstretched with devious intent.