As the planet collapsed around them, he watched her run.
He reached out a hand to grasp her as she fled but it was no good. She bounded through the snowy forest like she'd always belonged to it, despite the desert within her, and his injuries prevented him from any kind of pursuit.
He rolled over onto his stomach, and he began to crawl. As if knowing he was there, he watched as the land broke away on either side of him but never beneath him. Yes, it knows…it knows how important I am!
He growled deep in his throat, gripping the ice-encased grass as he pulled himself along. Gods, the heat. It wouldn't stay frozen for long. Breathing heavily, he glanced behind him, wondering offhandedly almost if someone would actually come for him, and even thought he saw lights. Lights of…the Millennium Falcon? No. The blood loss must've been playing tricks on him. Why would that ship, that ship, ever come for him? His father was dead. No, Han Solo was dead. He'd seen to that.
He laughed. A quiet chuckle at first, but as the idea of his dead father became more and more real to him, and the idea of his own hopelessness opened up more and more before him, the laugh became louder and louder. Soon, he was nearly doubled over in laughter, wheezing, coughing from the pain, as the collapsing planet upon which he laid threatened to fall out from under him, when three search lights focused on his form.
He felt himself pulled onto the medical trundle. He felt more than heard Hux's words rail down at him. He doesn't matter…it doesn't….. He tried to pull himself up but felt hands firmly press him back down. Hands at his shoulders, hands at his arms, hands at his sides, hands at his face. His face stung. Realizing there was a wound there made it sting quite terribly all the sudden, and he felt a moan well up into his throat. He saw Hux's stupid face swim over him momentarily, and then all was dark.