DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN STAR WARS or any of it's characters. (Just borrowing)
This is my take on what happens after the destruction of Star Killer Base, and is probably not cannon. But I hope whoever reads it likes it, regardless...
After the end of the world as he knew it, life came back a piece at a time...
First came sound. A sound like a quiet hum... buzzing and whirring in his mind. It was frustrating, as though it was trying to crush his thoughts. Slowly, Kylo Ren opened his eyes... to nothing. Nothing? No...
Desperation followed. Both hands moved at once, one moving to his face, the other pushing him up...
Then came pain. He ground his teeth against it, gasping for air as stabbing, burning pain like fire tore through him. He could use the pain, if he could breathe through it. Carefully, he took a breath, exhaling slowly. Again, his hands moved to try and find the reason he couldn't see.
Anger took its turn-and stayed. How could this happen? To him-Kylo Ren?
Finally, fingertips found where his eyes should've been... There was cloth covering them; actually, covering most of his face. He breathed out through his nose, trying to bring some sense of balance to the darkness he'd woken in. All the while, numb fingers tugged at loose ends, searching for a way out of the dark... for a way to see what was around him.
"Don't m-"
Shocked by the sudden voice, he reacted the only way he could... Raising one hand in defense, power coursed through the air-through him-and toward the voice. A crash sounded across the room, followed by a clambering sound. He moved one hand toward the sound, keeping it as a barrier between himself, and possible danger.
"You're in a medical transport, Sir!" a desperate voice stated.
"A medical transport?"
"Yes-Sir..."
He let out a quiet sigh. When the ground shook, he'd thought it was the end... that he would be swallowed into the ground like everything around him. Now aware that he was in no imminent danger of dying, one hand went back to the frustratingly simple - yet impossible - task of pulling off what seemed like a mile of bandages.
"I don't advise..."
"What?" he snapped.
"You were injured."
Sighing, he continued doing what he'd begun until a hand brushed against his.
"If you won't listen, then let me help."
He slowly lowered his hand and waited. It wasn't a long wait. The bandage was removed carefully...
And finally sight came. First the images were blurry-everything was too light. He cringed away from it, then blinked several times. That cleared things up a bit. He looked at the person standing before him - one of the medical personnel. She looked pale, and agitated. If she had any reason to be agitated, he had more. "What?"
"Nothing. The patch will heal it..." she reached forward, carefully messing with something on his face.
He smacked her hand away. "I'm fine."
She bit her lip and nodded, but it was clear she didn't agree with his nonprofessional opinion. He looked at her, reading her thoughts-it was easier with her, as she wasn't trained to resist. She'd been the assisting medic... When they'd found him - at Snoke's command. He'd almost died - it had been close.
He released her, and shook his head, slowly. "Go."
The woman moved across the room without another word, only pausing once at the door. She didn't speak, but looked intensely at him, then left. The door slid shut after her, whirring quietly.
Everything came back like a tidal wave. Han Solo was dead. He'd truly believed that would finish the process... he'd wanted so badly for that to end the call to the Light. But it didn't. It was still there... but distant. Aching. Now though - it was hollow and meaningless...
That was the best he could hope for. He would do whatever was needed to finish the training - if that would end the conflict that tore him apart... made him hesitate, and made him weak. Weak enough for a novice in the Force to beat him. It was all because of the weakness of the Light - it's distracting call. And he would extinguish it however he must.
A/N: Thank you to anyone who read this to the end! Hope it was enjoyable!