General Hux already had a headache which meant the slight skulk in the steps of the approaching solider made his hands curl into fists. Something had gone wrong again. Something, no doubt, related to the so-called Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren.

It was amazing how much you could hate a man.

"What is it?" he asked.

The solider hesitated and that made the headache grow. Definitely a Kylo problem. Military maneuvers gone wrong never elicited this sort of dread in his men. "You have a visitor," he said cautiously after a pause several heart beats too long. "We put her in your briefing room."

Her?

"I was unaware I was expecting guests," Hux said. "Has this ship become a vacation destination?"

The soldier swallowed hard enough he could see the man's throat bob. It was good to see someone was afraid of him. Not, apparently, this woman who'd sashayed her way onto a First Order cruiser and was sitting in a comfortable chair in his briefing room, probably sipping tea or some such damned thing, but this man was. That was something at least.

"Do I want to ask why this guest is in my briefing room rather than detention?"

"She asked," the man said in a voice barely above a whisper. He coughed then said in a more normal voice, "She requested to meet with you, sir, and disarmed several storm troopers when we said that wasn't on your agenda for the day, so it seemed best to let you… your expertise deal with the matter."

Hux rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he said trying for calm. Kylo Ren threw enough tantrums for the whole fleet. A real officer kept himself under control. He kept himself under control always. "My expertise and I will go determine what it is about a single woman that has you so bewitched."

The salute was sharp enough for a parade, and the turn on the heel immaculate, and the striding away so quick it might have been called hurrying. Even running. With all that fuss he expected one of the Resistance officers. Admiral Holdo, maybe. He'd enjoy matching wits with a tactician of her caliber and it would explain the confusion on how to handle their 'guest.'

When he opened the door to his briefing room, the girl sitting on the table – on the table – was not Admiral Holdo. She was Kylo Ren's ongoing problem. Now his, apparently. "Scavenger," he said. He shut the door behind him with a loud click and turned to look at the girl. Was there a reason rebel scum always felt the need to dress in rags? Maybe they had some kind of self-loathing issues they expressed that way? It would explain quite a bit. He brushed at his own immaculate uniform with pleasure he didn't bother to hide. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to fetch Ben," she said. She shrugged. "You can't possibly want him around."

"Kylo Ren is the Supreme Leader," Hux said. She arched her brows at that and he was uncomfortably aware he had something in common with some filty Jedi scavenger. "Well, he is," he muttered. You didn't go around arguing with Sith Lords. Not if you wanted to live. His ongoing fantasy about shooting the bastard was probably enough just by itself to get him killed. He wasn't going to say out loud that Kylo Ren was a disaster who ruined everything he touched.

"He's a mess," she said.

Hux narrowed his eyes. "Are you quite sane?" he asked.

"You don't think he's a mess?"

"I question what a slip of a half-trained scavenger nobody is going to do about that." Or why she'd want to. He could think of a dozen reasons he wanted Kylo Ren out of his hair. He couldn't think of one why she'd want him in hers. He'd destroy all the rebel's communication equipment and half their ships in a week just by slamming his ridiculous helmet into things or swinging his light saber around in a fit of pique.

"He needs," she began then stopped.

Hux could have filled that brief pause with a list of things Kylo Ren needed. He needed a swift kick in the rear, or a blaster to the face. He needed to be not Hux's problem, preferably dead but marooned on some unforgiving planet with sand and rusting droids wouldn't be a bad second choice.

"He needs to forgive himself," she said.

Hux let out a very uncontrolled snort but she was nodding.

"He needs to sit and breathe and forgive himself."

It was amazing people beset with ideas this nauseatingly touchy-feely had managed to put up any sort of fight against the First Order. Did they hug out insubordination problems? Have meetings where they sat around and shared their 'truths' one at a time? Maybe they sang songs touting the virtues of love?

On the other hand…

"Where would you take him to do this… forgiveness… thing?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you," she said.

"Because you're afraid I'll come down and kill all your rebel scum?" he asked. He meant it to be a sneer, and it mostly was, but a tiny bit of genuine curiosity crept out around the edges.

She smiled and the grin turned her face into a sun and Hux stared. Maybe Ren wasn't quite the idiot in his obsession. "No," she said. "Because if you show up he'll try to kill you and that won't help him."

"And the rebels -."

"Oh, they won't be there." She hopped down off the table. "No one wants to spend time with him so it'll just be us and the local wildlife."

Not wanting to be around Ren was the first sensible thing Hux had ever heard about the rebels. But he wasn't a man to reject a solution to a problem. A First Order without Kylo Ren was a First Order that belonged to him, or would soon enough. "He's all yours," he said. "Assuming you can control him."

"Thank you." She set her hand along his cheek as she passed and he twitched away from her touch. "See you around," she said.

"I doubt it."

The door slid shut behind her and left him alone in his well-appointed, clean briefing room. It wasn't the sort of place indigent trash from nowhere belonged. It was empty and gleaming and his.

He fished a pill for his headache out of a drawer, swallowed it dry, and looked out into the blackness of space. A flicker of light off to one corner might have been her ship pulling away. It might have been a bit of debris.

It didn't matter.

He hated Kylo Ren.