The dream started as it always did: on a rain-slick field where screams mixed in with sounds of the storm. Ben Solo stared down at a Zabrak boy only a few years younger than himself. Mud spattered his face, marring the jagged lines of his tattoos.

"I don't understand." The boy flinched as lightning threw the scene into stark relief, the masked knights herding the students together, waiting for their orders.

"Ben?" He held up a trembling hand. "Please!"

"That isn't my name." Ben's lips curled as his new lightsaber sputtered to life. He could hear a whisper in the back of his head urging him on, but he hardly needed it. Leeth was his rival; always managing to be a little better or a little faster. Always quick to answer questions and quicker to share a laugh. His uncle liked him, too, and although he never said as much there was always an underlying feeling of why can't you be more like Leeth?

Watching him now, helpless on the ground and begging for mercy was a good feeling. Anger and resentment sang through him as he lifted his saber. For one crystalline moment the whole universe seemed to hold its breath. Even Ben paused, sensing something. And then he slashed down, feeling the bright glow of another life snuffed out. Darkness surged within him.

One of the knights handed him a mask. He smiled down at the silvery lines of it, staring into the darkened pits of its eyes before slipping it over his head. It latched with a satisfying click and he straightened, squaring his shoulders as he addressed the huddled mass of survivors; his former training mates.

"My name is Kylo Ren." He reveled in the altered sound of his own voice and raised his saber, addressing the knights behind him. "Let's finish this."

He opened his eyes and scanned the cockpit. Still alone. And still no sign of pursuit. He wasn't sure what to make of that. He'd already made one limping circuit of the ship, checking for and removing bugs. His father was still asleep in his private quarters so there was no way to check there. And there was no way to check the outside of the ship. They'd have to take their chances until they got to Pagodin Station.

The headache was back. Or more accurately, it was still there and getting worse. He rubbed his temples and concentrated on reinforcing his shields. Snoke had already been alerted to his... defection and the force of his rage was painful to block. But block it he did. Snoke had always been able to reach into his mind, but years of practice had taught him how to block the intrusion... somewhat. Distance helped, which was one of the reasons Snoke liked to keep him close. He'd always thought it was protective, but he was beginning to realize it was possessive. He'd been kept on a short leash and never noticed. Maybe now he could finally run far enough that his Master's voice couldn't reach him.

A muffled clunk and soft footsteps had him on his feet facing the doorway, watching his father make slow progress towards the cockpit. Han Solo had definitely seen better days. Ten hours of sleep and a turn in the sanisteam hadn't done much to improve things and raiding Kylo's closet for spare clothes only emphasized how pale and waxy he looked. Kylo struggled to think of something to say to him.

"Those are mine."

Han leaned in the doorframe. "Oh really. That must be why they look like they were dipped in a vat of used engine oil." He plucked at the back robe that engulfed him. "You sure as hell didn't get your fashion sense from me."

Kylo glared. This was not going the way he wanted, but that was typical when his father was involved. He huffed, flicking hair out of his eyes.

"Should you even be moving right now?"

"Do I have a choice?" He rubbed his chest. "I don't suppose you have a bacta tank on this thing, do you? I think I could use a refill."

"Bacta tanks are considered a waste of resources," he said. "Unless someone is of sufficient rank and importance they can either do without or be decommissioned."

"Decommissioned as in-" Han drew a line across his throat. "And you don't have a tank?"

Kylo felt a surge of rage and took a breath, trying to contain it. "This is only a command shuttle. It isn't meant for long-range travel and so it wasn't deemed necessary." He found himself wondering if that was true.

"So no bacta tank for the injured, but you get private quarters with a full 'fresher that includes a high-end sanisteam unit?" Han wheezed a laugh. "That's some stellar First Order logic right there. Add so much bait you never feel the hook."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." The pounding in his head was getting worse. "If you're feeling well enough to try and argue with me then I assume you can sit in a chair and watch some controls. Can you?"

"I wasn't-" Han broke off, scrubbing at his face. "Look, Ben, I'm not trying to pick a fight, here-"

"Leeth," he corrected.

Han blinked at him, forehead creasing. "What?"

"Ben Solo died a long time ago and I can't use Kylo Ren anymore, so call me Leeth." The name felt right in his head. It was a way to remember the past and also a warning to his future self. He wouldn't forget what he'd done and he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.

"Leeth." Han frowned, shaking his head. "I… OK, if that's what you really want."

Leeth lifted his chin, staring down at his father. "It is."

"We still need to talk… uh, Leeth. About what happened. And- and why…" He winced.

"They were trying to keep your survival a secret," Leeth said. "I don't appreciate being lied to and I… They've kept too much from me already." He looked away, lifting one hand to press against his reinjured hip. "I'm tired of being treated like a child."

He could almost feel the amount of restraint his father used in order to not comment. His temper simmered anyway.

"I'm a grown man, father." He sneered. "I didn't stop growing when you ran out on me!"

"Hey!" Color came back in Han's cheeks as he stood straighter, jabbing a finger at Leeth's chest. "I never ran out on you! Not once!"

"No, you just cared about your damn races more than you cared about me! About us!" He swatted the hand away. Something hot and painful slithered through his head, past the walls he'd built so long ago.

"The- the races?!" Han stared at him, wide-eyed. "Is that what you- I was helping your mother, dammit!" His face creased as he rubbed his chest again. "The races were fun, but that was a cover! I was gathering information. Making contacts. You think I wanted to spend so much time away from you?"

Leeth clenched his jaw, not trusting himself to speak.

"I only did it because she asked me to!" His expression softened for a moment, the ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. "I never was very good at saying no to her."

"So this is her fault!"

Han's eyes blazed as he pushed forward into the cockpit. "Don't you dare blame her! She loved you! We both did! But her job…" He paused, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.

A distant part of himself wondered why he was fighting. This wasn't what he wanted. But his temples were pounding and he reached out to slam the wall with his fist.

"Her job! Of course! Because being a precious kriffing senator is more important than being a mother! More important than-"

"Never!" Han coughed, his pallor going waxy again. "Family was everything to her! But she had her duty, too. It was killing her to be away from you. Away from us. Ben…" He clutched Leeth's shoulder. "She was trying to get away from it. She wanted to quit so she could spend more time with us. As a family. But-" He stiffened, eyes rolling up as he slumped against Leeth.

"Dad!" Leeth caught him, the shock temporarily banishing his headache. He lowered him carefully to the floor, checking his pulse- weak but steady- and his breathing. Something started to beep and he went cold with terror as he realized it was the implant. Was it a bomb?

He shoved the cloak and shirt aside and stared at the device set in his father's chest. There was a blinking red diode. He had no idea what it meant. He placed his hand over it and reached out with the Force to see if he could sense anything.

There was a muted click as a small compartment opened, revealing a socket. The shape of it was familiar and after a frozen moment he realized what it meant; the implant wasn't going to explode, it was running low on power. Swearing in a mix of three languages he scooped up his father and carried him into the main holding area, dumping him on a fold-down bench as he searched the wall and found a recessed charging port. He flipped open the panel, grabbed the cord, and plugged it into the socket on the implant, trying hard not to think about what he was doing.

The beeping stopped and the diode went from flashing red to a steady orange. His father took a deeper breath but didn't wake. Leeth sat on the floor with his back against the couch and trembled. He hated his father, he did, but… he didn't want him to die. He wondered who the hell would create a medical device that needed to be recharged and realized the answer was obvious: the First Order. It was a good way to keep someone under control. He closed his eyes and worked on his breathing.

You shouldn't be fighting with him.

"Shut up." He didn't open his eyes; didn't want to see the look of disapproval on his grandfather's ghostly face.

This is a chance to make up for lost time, to mend what's broken.

"I'm not listening." He buried his face in his hands.

When do you ever? There was a faint sigh. You chose to leave the First Order. That's a good first step, but there are still many more to go. Don't backslide now. Not when your father needs you.

"Not listening," Leeth repeated.

He distracted himself by checking his father for bugs. There were two: one embedded in the back of his neck and one implanted directly in the device. Of course. If his control had been more delicate he might have been able to use the Force to crush them, but he'd always been more about power. It usually worked in a fight, but in this case it meant he had to use the sonic scalpel to cut the one out of his neck and then resort to the emergency repairs toolkit to get at and extract the one in the medical regulator. His technical background (which had nothing to do with his father, of course), came in handy since it meant he was versed enough in electrical components to know what did and didn't belong and which bits he could and couldn't mess with.

His father woke not long after the bugs had been extracted and destroyed. Leeth learned some interesting new words when he explained what happened and then, of course, they had another argument.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm not gonna comm her directly," Han said, "but I told you, your mother needs to know I'm safe before she does anything stupid."

"You mean stupider than marrying you?"

"Yes!" Han glared. "I can bounce the signal across half the galaxy and it'll wind up in a safe drop account only she and I know about."

"As far as you know." Leeth raked the hair out of his eyes and tried to think. The whole situation was bad and bound to get worse. He needed to get away from his father as soon as possible and he needed to get away from the First Order's grasp even sooner. It was only a matter of time before Hux or, even worse, Snoke found him. He wanted to be able to survive that. And sending comm messages all over the place would only make them easier to follow.

He was not at all happy at the prospect of his mother getting involved, either, even at this remote a distance. But she probably would do something stupid; she'd always been recklessly sentimental at the worst possible moments. He sighed.

"You'll do nothing until I'm sure that thing in your chest is charged." He sniffed. "I don't need you collapsing again."

"Trust me, we agree on that part." Han sighed.

"Hmph! That's a first." He looked away.

There was a long pause. "We didn't always butt heads like this, you know." Grunting, Han shifted on the bench. "We used to get along. Sometimes I even held you in my lap while-"

"That was a long time ago." Leeth didn't want to remember.

"Doesn't always seem that long to me," Han muttered.

He didn't bother responding to that. The silence dragged on.

"Look," his father said at last. "For what it's worth… I'm sorry."

He looked at him, taking in the shadows under his eyes and the fine lines of wrinkles. He'd gotten so old.

"I know you feel like your mother and I failed you, that we… That we weren't there for you when you needed us."

His chest tightened, burning as if he was the one with the hole through him, but he remained silent.

Han reached up, wiping something from his eye. "We tried to do what we thought was best for you. I swear we did, Ben. Leeth." He winced, correcting himself before Leeth could do it for him. "I guess… I guess it wasn't enough. I'm sorry."

Their eyes met. He felt as if all the air was being sucked out of his lungs. Truth. Honesty. Regret mixed with grief. His father really meant it.

"It's too late for that, now," he said, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. He saw his father flinch. It wasn't the good feeling it should have been. "Just… go and record your message," he said, standing. "I trust you know how the equipment works?"

Han's smile was weak, but there. "Yeah, I think I can figure it out."

"Try not to get us caught." He turned and walked away. He'd had had enough. Of everything. While his father went to record a hopefully cryptic and encoded message to his mother he went in his room and locked the door. Just for good measure he kicked it. And then he used the Force to fling things around, roaring his frustration at a universe that seemed intent on knocking him down every chance it got.

Something had to be done. Something needed to shift the balance in his favor. A symbolic change to show that he was in charge. He stomped into the fresher and leaned against the sink, glaring at his reflection.

"You are the most important person in the universe," he said. "What are you going to do?"

His reflection didn't provide any answers and for once, mercifully, neither did the spirit of his grandfather. Instead his gaze drifted down to a tube left on the counter. He made a decision.

Using a knife from the dining partition he hacked off large chunks of hair, dropping them in the recycler as he worked. It hurt. It hurt a lot and took far longer than he wanted it to, but in the end it worked. He stared at his reflection in the 'fresher mirror. He looked gaunt. Haggard. The exertion made his scar stand out even more, but his attention was on his hair; or what was left of it.

He'd managed to cut it close in most places, but there were still dark tufts all over his head along with a few stubborn longer strands. He pulled out the tube of depil cream and spread it over his head. It was supposed to be used to manage facial hair, but it worked on other types, too. He stripped down and stepped into the sanisteam to clean off, letting the heat soak into tense muscles.

It was strange how much lighter his head felt. He kept reaching up, exploring with his fingers. His own touch felt alien on his newly-exposed scalp. When he checked his reflection again while getting dressed in clean clothes the face looking back at him was almost unrecognizable. Part of him mourned the loss of his hair, but deep down he felt satisfaction. He'd changed himself. His decision. His actions. This would be the start of something different.

"Hey, have you- what the hell?!" Han almost fell off the seat when Leeth entered.

"I thought a change might be required," he said, hunching his shoulders. "Since we don't want anyone to identify me."

"Was that even a possibility?" Han shook his head "Sorry," he said, staring again. "It's just… You always did have a flair for the dramatic. Remember that time you were six and dyed your hair laser green?"

Leeth could feel the blush spread through his cheeks and over his bare scalp. "That was different! Ugh! Why do you never listen?" He slammed his fist into a panel. An overhead fan sputtered and died.

"Hey! Hey, I'm listening!" Han spread his hands. "Look! It's fine! You, uh, look a lot different. More… threatening."

Leeth glared at him. "Then I guess I should fit in well on Pagodin Station, shouldn't I?"

Han's expression turned thoughtful. "You know… you just may be right about that." He smiled

Leeth wasn't mollified. Much. But at least he'd gotten his father to admit he was right. For once.

His grandfather, who appeared later as Leeth was trying to meditate, took a long look at him before saying Well this is bound to be interesting, and then faded out again.