•LEGACY - A Reylo Story•

EPISODE XLIII - TYPICAL

"What do you want?" Rey demands as Hux stands before her, hands clasped oh-so-primly behind his back. She's exhausted and can barely sleep for two hours at a time. "If you're here to give me another First Order spiel, save it."

Hux glowers at her. Since he murdered Captain Phasma, he's been delivering all of Rey's meals with a speech, personally delivered. She's not impressed.

Although, sometimes he asks how she's feeling, in his cold, staccato voice. Other times, he furiously demands to know why she isn't giving up, isn't giving in to Snoke's demands. And her answer is always the same: he'll come back for me.

You already know the truth. He's never coming back.

No. That's not true, it's not true, it's not!

"You know Snoke plans to let you die, if there are complications at the birth," Hux says.

The bread stalls in her mouth. "I didn't, actually. Thanks for informing me." That won't happen, she tells herself, tells her baby.

"You won't even turn if it could save your life?"

She glares at him, swallowing and reaching for a piece of green meat. It's tangy and bitter, tough to chew.

"Surely letting a child grow up in Snoke's care is better than the alternative. You'd still be involved, in some ways," he cajoles.

"I know what it's like to grow up alone," Rey shoots back. "But I still had choices. I had my freedom. And that was painful, but I think I grew up okay."

Hux sniffs. "Typical Resistance attitude."

Rey smiles. "Really?"

"Resistance scum."

"Well, I'd rather my child be raised by Unkar Plutt on Jakku than Snoke." And she does. Although, part of Rey wonders whether the reason she is who she is stems from the fact that she always had that hope to cling to, the hope that someone would return.

Hux scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous. Surely—"

"Growing up alone is better than growing up with a cruel father. Or father figure," she snaps, watching as her words find their target. Crimson rages through Hux's cheeks. "Don't you think?" she asks. "Isn't it better for a child to imagine they could make someone happy, if only that someone were around to see it, than to know they'll never even come close to making the parent who's right there proud of them?"

"Talk to me like that again," Hux says. "And I will tear your tongue out, pregnant or not!" He whirls around on his boot, stomping towards the door.

"I'm sorry!" she calls, compunction kicking her.

"That's what they all say when they're afraid," he taunts, facing her with a smirk.

"No—" Rey rises. Not an easy task these days. "I am sorry. You didn't deserve to be treated the way your father treated you."

"What—I—you—" Spluttering, Hux marches over to her, hand raised as if to strike her. Rey cringes and waits for the blow, but it never comes.

"Fuck you," Hux spits as he turns and leaves.