"Uh . . . " he groans aloud. He has the worst headache ever. Apparently, being dead not only sucks, but it hurts. Peeping one eye open tentatively, he immediately reacts to what he sees, throwing up a hand to summon a desperate Force push before he rolls away defensively. "UGH!"

His efforts accomplish nothing.

"Welcome back," says the familiar voice sounding especially smug.

"Fuck!" Kylo vents a rare curse. But this moment merits the lapse. He's on the floor in a strange place and ugly Snoke is peering down at him curiously. "FUCK!" He glares mutinously up at his old Master. Because why not? He cut this guy in two, so it's not like he can piss him off further.

"There is no cause for alarm. Do not be afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you!" he retorts. "I killed you!" Looking around blankly, Snoke is the only thing he recognizes. And maybe, that makes sense. "I'm in Force Hell, aren't I? I'm in Force Hell with YOU!" He glares up at his old Master with pure Dark hatred. "Is this mutual punishment for the Starkiller?" he guesses.

The mangled giant that once led the First Order frowns. "There is no Heaven and there is no Hell. You know that, young Skywalker."

Skywalker? "Don't call me that! It reminds me of that talking corpse on Exogol." Shooting his one-time tormentor a pointed glare, Kylo goes low. "You know, he looks worse than even you do."

"Does he now?" Snoke looks almost amused.

He smirks back. "Hard to imagine, but true. Why am I naked?" he wonders aloud.

"You left your clothes behind when you died and disappeared into the Force. With you, there was no body to revive."

He guesses that's a good thing. At least Darth Sidious can't use his dead body as a host or a clone or whatever his science experiments are. But the fact remains that he is naked as the day he was born and that puts him at a considerable disadvantage when confronting his old boss.

"You're clothed, I notice." Snoke looks like an Emperor in exile in the afterlife. He's all decked out in princely dark robes and a voluminous hooded cape, which is strange because he died in his favorite golden dress. But whatever. Kylo wants that cape. He sneers, "Unless you want to keep averting your eyes for the rest of eternity, you can hand me that cape." Time to cover the Skywalker family jewels that very regrettably never got much use in life.

Again, Snoke looks vaguely amused. "Very well." He removes his cloak and hands it over. The guy is seven feet tall, so it's long. But at least now he's mostly covered. But damn, crawling to his feet hurts. His leg is killing him.

As Kylo arranges the cape for maximum coverage, he gripes, "I guess this could be worse. I could be in Force Hell with Luke. Or wait," he has a second thought that makes him shudder, "my mother."

"Indeed. That would be Hell," Snoke answers, with the ghost of a smile about his crooked mouth. Strangely enough, his old Master seems to have cleaner teeth in the afterlife. Come to think of it, his fingernails are considerably less grimy as well. This Snoke looks far more fastidious than the living version.

Kylo starts limping around now as he assesses his surroundings. It looks like he's in some Core world mogul's country villa. "Force Hell is a nice place. I could get used to this," he decides. "How's the food here?" And wait, do you actually eat when you're dead? He doesn't know.

His Master chides anew, "There is no Hell—"

"Who knew death would have so much contemporary art?" He cuts Snoke off, something he would never dare do in real life. Kylo cocks his head and squints at an enormous abstract painting on the far wall. "That one looks familiar."

"It's a masterpiece of the late Republic era," Snoke informs him. And who knew the guy was an art lover? His throne room on the Supremacy was so tacky that he would never have guessed the man has highbrow art knowledge.

Kylo himself has none of that sophistication. He shrugs. "Okay. If you say so." He keeps looking around. "Who else is here? Please don't say Darth Sidious."

"Just us and my two servants at the moment."

His head whips around at this news. "No fair, you still get servants?"

"Yes, Apprentice."

"Do I get servants?" He peevishly refuses to let his old Master outclass him on the optics, even in death.

"We should get you a medic droid. You're bleeding." Snoke points to blood drops in the marble floor.

He squints at the very tangible evidence of his earthly body. "Huh. Didn't think that would happen here." Aren't you supposed to be your best self in the Force afterlife? Because he's not. He feels like he figured he might feel had he survived old Sidious. Namely, horrible and ready for a bacta tank. Everything hurts currently.

But that's not the only way death fails to live up to his expectations. He sighs as he glumly admits aloud, "I was hoping there would be others. You know . . . like my Grandfather," he adds sheepishly. Luke's tale of Vader's deathbed conversion must have been true after all. Because Anakin Skywalker evidently went to Force Heaven while he gets stuck in Force Hell with his cross-dressing monster Master as a roommate.

Snoke correctly reads his disappointment. "Lord Vader drops in now and then."

"Does he?" Kylo answers hopefully. "Who else?"

"I talk to Lord Maul sometimes."

"Really?" Not what he expected.

"I still feel guilty about him."

Guilty? "Why? I didn't know you'd ever met him," Kylo accuses. Normally, a tone like that might merit lightning for a rebuttal. But since he killed Snoke and they're both dead, the threat of violence is no longer a deterrent. He's telling it like it is now. Screw being the deferential Apprentice.

"Maul and I started the Rebellion together."

That's a lie. And a bold one. "Did not."

"Did too. It's a little-known fact."

"Whatever," Kylo brushes him off. But then, he wonders aloud, "When Maul shows up, is he cut in two? Because I see you're back in one piece." So how come he's a wreck? Kylo sighs and grabs onto a nearby chair for support. "I didn't think I would be so mangled still. I feel awful," he admits. Because why not admit to weakness now that he's dead?

"Maul appears to me in his prime, like your grandfather does."

"Then why am I still hurt?" Kylo grumbles. "You know my leg really hurts. Like broken hurt."

"Then sit down, Apprentice. What exactly happened to you?" Snoke asks.

"Everything," he brags. Exogol is probably his best war story, after all. Too bad it didn't end better. He sighs. "I fought my way past the knights to Sidious and then he yeeted me—"

"Yeeted?" Snoke is above slang, apparently. Even dead, he's a prissy bitch.

Kylo's having none of it. "Yes, yeeted. I got yeeted down some chasm. Clearly, it was a setup. But he should have known I would live."

"Because you're a Skywalker?"

"No," Kylo answers testily, "because no Force user who falls down a pit ever dies." He starts listing off recent examples. "Maul on Naboo—cut in two, falls in a chasm, and still lives. Luke on Bespin—loses a hand, jumps out of a floating city, and still lives. Sidious on the second Death Star—gets chucked down a reactor shaft, the station is blown to pieces, and he still lives. See what I mean?"

"Interesting observation," Snoke allows.

"So then there's me—Force yeeted into oblivion and I crawl out. Surprise—NOT!—still alive!" When Snoke raises a skeptical eyebrow, Kylo rushes to assure him, "He didn't actually kill me until later, you know."

"You killed yourself, I believe. For the girl."

The girl. THE girl. He says her name before he can suppress it. "Rey . . . " He runs a bloody hand through his hair and looks down. "She hates me."

"She kissed you."

He looks up sharply. "No, she didn't."

"She did. I read it in your mind."

Really? "Then why don't I remember it?"

"Subjects often do not recall the last moments before their death."

Well, that's a bummer. He gets a kiss from Rey and he can't remember it. "Was it a good kiss? Because I died healing her for that kiss."

"It was lovely."

"That's not what I'm asking. Was it a real kiss?" Was there tongue? "Or was it just some peck on the cheek?"

"It was a romantic kiss."

The news just adds to his consternation. "Yeah? Great . . . just great . . . Well, a lot of good that does me now. I guess the bond dissolved when I died. But maybe I can haunt her a little."

"Miss her?" Snoke goads.

"No." Yes. "That girl is a wreck. A total psycho mess," he jeers.

"You would know."

What's that supposed to mean? "I didn't like her. It was more like I felt sorry for her. She was duped by Luke. I felt sorry for her, that's all . . . " He felt sorry for the girl who was terribly lonely . . . like himself. Rey had been completely taken in by his treacherous family . . . like he was long ago. And like himself, Rey was full of Force she didn't understand and could barely control. He lurched Light at times and she lurched Dark. It's like they were the mirror image of one another. It arose an uncharacteristic empathy in him. To say Rey intrigued him would be an understatement.

Damn, he wishes he could remember that kiss. "So . . . did she kiss me or I did I kiss her?" He tries to ask the question casually, but he's dying to know.

"She kissed you."

"Yeah?" Wow. He's shocked but in a good way.

"Surprised? You shouldn't be." Old Snoke crosses his arms and passes judgement. "That girl is forward. She also made the first move in that handholding tryst Skywalker interrupted, I recall," Snoke snorts. "So chaste you both are. I can't decide which of you is the more repressed Padawan."

Kylo glares. "Just how much of my mind did you read?"

"All the good parts."

"What does that mean?"

Snoke ignores the question. "Apprentice, next time you give a woman the 'join me' recruitment speech, shut up and kiss her. Traditionally, the Sith were men of action. Men of great passion. Men who seduced. You don't embrace Darkness because you are persuaded by someone's oral argument. So less yapping next time around."

"Fuck you," is Kylo's answer. Besides, none of this matters now. Still, feeling defensive, he changes the topic. "So you died like a chump on that throne," he disses old Snoke. "You didn't see that sword lighting? Come on, it was almost too easy."

"It was too easy," Snoke answers flatly. "That was one of many clues you missed. Sidious let that happen."

"Why? If he wanted the girl, why not just kill me then and take her? She was in custody at the time," he remembers.

"He wanted you two to fight it out for dominance. Sheev wanted to make sure he hosted himself in the winner."

"Well, I'm glad I died." Kylo gives an involuntary shiver at the memory of creepy Palpatine. "I'd much rather be dead that have that guy controlling me."

"Oh, agreed."

Snoke sounds glad to be rid of Darth Sidious' influence, however that actually worked. All in all, Kylo thinks, Snoke is remarkably accepting about his murder. Which is good, if they are going to be dead best buddies. "So . . . no hard feelings?" Kylo ventures.

"None at all," his old Master answers blithely. For a fleeting moment, Kylo thinks the guy might laugh out loud.

Enough with all this standing. His leg is really killing him. Kylo collapses into a plush couch in the luxurious lounge they're in. As he pokes at his swollen and increasingly numb leg, he muses, "Do you think Yoda, Luke, and the rest of the Jedi are in Force Heaven?"

"How would I know?" Snoke deadpans.

"Good point." That was a stupid question.

"So, did you know you were Sidious' puppet all along, or were we both fooled?" he probes.

"I'm no puppet."

Oh, come on. "He has cloning vats with extra versions of pickled you hanging around."

"I'm not surprised," the old guy sighs. "Sheev always was ghoulishly obsessed with cloning."

"So how does this work?" He's back to thinking of Rey. Perplexing, befuddling, infatuating Rey. "Can I haunt Rey from Force Hell?" To test things out, he beckons a knickknack from a table across the room to his hand. To his great relief, the Force obeys his command. "Still got it," he smiles at the first good news he's had since he died. But wait—"Does everyone have the Force in the afterlife?" When you're one with the Force, you're technically the Force, so does that mean everyone has the Force?

Snoke approaches to look down on him when he announces, "Apprentice, this is not the afterlife."

"Don't tell me that 'there's no Hell' bit again," Kylo snaps back. "Because hanging out with you is definitely Hell." His overall discomfort combined with his throbbing leg are making him especially short tempered. "Two Supreme Leaders under one roof is one too many." Talk about awkward. Well, it would be awkward if he cared, which he doesn't. What does anything matter any longer once you're dead? There's no fear of failure or reprisals. No fear of looking stupid and feeling ashamed. You're dead. There's nothing left to fear and no one to impress. And damn, that is going to make things exceedingly boring in time.

"Kylo Ren." That deep baritone commands his attention.

He looks up from where he is poking at his leg.

"I am not, nor have I ever been, Supreme Leader Snoke."

"Yeah? Then who are you? Because you look just like the ugly fucker I cut in two."

"Naturally. The man you know as Snoke was a clone Lord Sidious made of me. Probably from my ear." Snoke reaches up to finger self-consciously at his half missing left ear. It's the side of his face that looks like someone stuck a lightsaber through it.

Skeptical Kylo answers back brutally. "Why would anyone want two of you?"

"To entrap the last Skywalker."

That's uh . . . that's not the answer he was expecting. Kylo looks down and blinks. Suddenly, he's lost his cocksure attitude. Because that answer had the ring of truth.

"He who controls the Chosen One, controls the Force. And you, Obi-Wan Skywalker Organa Solo, are the last of your bloodline. So naturally, Sheev Palpatine set out to entrap you."

His eyes narrow. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I have never met you before today and the man you knew as Snoke was not me. He was an imposter created and animated by my old Apprentice in order to dupe you. Kylo Ren, you and the rest of the galaxy were very effectively gaslighted."

Kylo says nothing. But he feels the hair on his back neck and arms rising.

"You died on Exogol saving the girl, but you are now very much alive. I brought you back. You have been resurrected in the Force."

"R-Resurrected?" he echoes in slight horror. "Wait—I'm not dead?"

"Not any longer. I plucked you back from the netherworld of the Force after many hours of meditation." Snoke-who-claims-he-isn't-Snoke shoots him a pointed look, adding, "You're welcome, Apprentice."

"Thanks . . . I guess." But if this guy—whoever he is—thinks that means he owns him now, he's wrong. "So you are . . . ?"

"A friend."

Kylo calls bullshit on that. Force users who resurrect people are mainly the foe types. Of the arch villain variety, no less. It's not like resurrection is some beginner skill. "To cheat death is a power only one has achieved—"

"Don't believe that. Sheev did it. His was a rudimentary method, but it worked."

Kylo starts connecting the dots as his heart begins pounding and his adrenaline surges. "Sheev Palpatine was your Apprentice?"

"Yes."

"You're Plagueis!" he declares in a bizarre eureka moment that is instantly full of dread. Because Darth Plagueis the Wise looms large in the pantheon of Sith Lords. Even his Apprentice who hated him revered his awesome power. Kylo is suddenly thoroughly intimidated.

"I have gone by many names but, yes, I am Darth Plagueis."

"Fuuuck." Yet again, he's being manipulated, Kylo suspects. "You're dead!" he now accuses. "Sidious hacked you to death about the time he became Chancellor."

"Yes. And yet, I live."

"Because you're Darth Plagueis the Wise and you can cheat death . . . " Kylo reasons aloud.

The mysterious Snoke lookalike nods. "My old Apprentice stole my Empire and ran it into the ground. But more importantly, he stole my boy."

Snoke-who-claims-he-isn't-Snoke now levels him a pointed look. And, uh oh. This has all the makings of an 'I am your father' moment and Kylo doesn't want to hear it. If his mom got with this old fossil cheating on Han Solo, he definitely doesn't want to know it.

"That boy was Anakin Skywalker."

Whew. Wait-er . . . what?

"I created Darth Vader in the Force. I set out to create life as a Sith god, to fashion a perfect Dark Apprentice to do my bidding. But instead, I created the Chosen One . . . the Sith'ari . . . in the form of a bastard slave boy. The Force gave me what I sought, but in granting that wish, it sowed the seeds of my undoing. It was a lesson in hubris."

Kylo blinks. Luke Skywalker told a very different tale of his grandfather's miraculous virgin birth. Namely, he omitted all the Sith alchemy.

"I was quite chagrinned initially. Until, of course, I stepped back from my own ambitions and broke free of the ideology of the old Sith. Forget all that orthodoxy, Apprentice, and let the Force guide you. It will take you to places that are both Light and Dark." The old Master frowns. "Unfortunately, that was a lesson your uncle learned too late. For he, like every other Skywalker, was descended from the Force itself. All of you have equal capacity for Light and Dark. That means part of Luke Skywalker always tended towards the Darkness, just like part of you hears the call to the Light." Snoke-who-claims-he-isn't-Snoke wags a finger at him. "Conflict is intrinsic in who you are. It is not a character flaw."

His strange host is harsh now in his condemnation. "Luke Skywalker squandered the chance he was given. Kenobi and Yoda had brainwashed him too effectively. In the end, Lord Vader's sacrifice at Endor was wasted on that zealot. Your fool uncle set about trying to form a new Jedi Order while your mother played politician remaking the Republic. Free will," the Sith Master laments, "can be an unfortunate thing. It leads people to make the same mistakes over and over again."

Kylo is all ears for trashing Luke Skywalker. This is a version of the family history he's never heard before. But he's still untangling the relationships. "If Vader is your—"

"Son in the Force."

"Then that makes me?"

"My great-grandson in the Force."

"Oh." He doesn't know what to say to that claim. It sounds so ridiculous and yet true at the same time.

Maybe-Plagueis is rueful now. "I watched Sheev sink his claws into you as a child. I declined to intervene. I wanted to see how it would all play out. After all, you had your mother and uncle to protect you."

That admission hits a nerve. "They did nothing!"

"I know. I'm sorry. They failed you."

Kylo fumes. It's a very sore topic.

"Perhaps I should have seen that coming. When I knew him, Luke was a true Jedi zealot. But I was confident that in time without the influence of other classically trained Jedi around, he would begin to think for himself. But instead, Skywalker became more and more a prisoner to the past. He feared becoming his father for all the wrong reasons."

"You knew Luke?" Kylo probes.

"Uhmm . . . yes. Your Grandfather and I approached him long ago. We wanted an alliance to depose Sidious and to end the Rebellion. But Luke was too brainwashed by Kenobi to see reason. And he was afraid to trust us."

"I never knew . . ."

"Your Grandfather didn't help things on Bespin, unfortunately. Lord Vader bungled things badly. There was no coming back from that. Even when he leaked the rebels the second Death Star plans, they still wouldn't trust him."

"Vader helped the Rebellion?" Kylo blinks.

"Yes. And I funded it. Maul helped for a while as well."

"You're kidding me—"

"We all had a grudge against Sheev," Plagueis reminds him.

And, actually, that's not comforting knowledge. "If three Sith Lords couldn't take Palpatine out . . ."

His mysterious host waves away that concern. "Our triumvirate fell apart before it even got started."

"Oh."

"It was a great loss for the galaxy. But that's a story for another time."

Maybe so, but he's dying to hear it. "So, you've been in the background all along? Just hanging out in exile?"

"Yes, and your family knew it. They kept the truth from you. Probably because they believed Sheev's wretched Snoke puppet was me. That pretense probably confirmed their worst fears that somehow, Sheev and I had reunited as Master and Apprentice to rebuild the Empire. Sheev was quite masterful in his ruse," Plagueis adds begrudgingly. "He fooled the ones who mattered."

"Why didn't you intervene?" Kylo demands.

"I was afraid."

Kylo blinks. Did he hear right? Because that statement is sort of jaw dropping for a Sith Master.

"I was afraid," Darth Plagueis repeats. "The last time I attempted to influence things, it blew up in my face. I thought perhaps it was time to stand down and let the Force work itself out."

"What do you mean exactly-blew up in your face?" That doesn't sound good.

"Well, first Maul quit, which was a terrible loss. He was a brilliant man who might have balanced the Force—"

"Maul could balance the Force?" Say what?

"Oh, yes. He was far more Nightbrother than Sith. He had a witch's natural ability with the Force. For years, I thought he might be the Chosen One until your Grandfather came along."

"Oh." Who knew?

"But we ruined Maul with Sith training too soon and then he was injured by Kenobi. His body recovered but his soul never did. Your Grandfather was similarly disheartened when I finally met him." Creepy old Plagueis shakes his head. "Sheev ruins everything and everyone he touches. I will never forgive him for his treatment of my Anakin."

The veteran Sith Master steels his resolve as he meets his eyes. "I won't let Sheev win. It's why I brought you back. You could still fulfill the promise of your Grandfather and make certain he did not die in vain. The girl . . . well, that girl reminds me entirely too much of your uncle. I would much rather you were the one to live at Exogol," Plagueis complains. "She has to the power to do it, but not the wisdom, I fear. But you, Kylo Ren, have the power and the wisdom."

To do what? "Get to the point. What do you really want? Besides revenge on Sidious."

"Do you not want that as well?"

He rephrases the question. "Why did you resurrect me?"

"To balance the Force. You can do it. The girl will help."

Balance the Force? That's a Jedi fairytale. Moreover, it's an impossible task. Flustered Kylo reflexively lashes out, "Do it yourself."

"Alas, I cannot. But you, my boy, might." He looks away, but the scary faced Muun commands his attention. "All your life, someone has found fault with you. You mother feared your potential and sent you away too young. Your uncle later tried to kill you for your Darkness that matched his own. Then Snoke ridiculed you for your Light. They couldn't see what I have seen all along—that you're the hero, not the villain. That your inner conflict is not a shameful secret but a virtue. It will enable you to finish what Lord Vader started and we all will benefit."

Uncomfortable with these home truths and unexpected praise, Kylo takes refuge in sarcasm. "So now you're my cheerleading savior? My Darth fairy godmother?"

"You may call me Master."

"And if I refuse?"

"You may call me Grandfather."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will send you back to the Force and see if I can coax the girl Rey to do it on her own." With that threat delivered quietly, Snoke raises his eyebrows. "Well? Are you with me?"

"No one can balance the Force," he sneers back. "Even the fucking Jedi doubted that Chosen One crap."

His host grunts. Displeasure is written across his disfigured features. Like Kylo has just blasphemed. "You are as blunt and rude as Lord Vader was, but Vader was never profane. The man was elegant in his disdain, whereas you are crude." Plagueis grumbles, "I suppose that's Sheev's influence showing. He is a lowly, petty man with a taste for colorful language and Underworld women. Kylo Ren, tell me that you are better than what you appear here today."

"Until minutes ago, I was dead," Kylo snaps back. "So forgive me if I'm not my best self. And you're not the first Sith Lord to want something from me."

"Very well." The ugly Muun switches gears. "Let's get you patched up, shall we? I have excellent medical care here. As you can see," he gestures to his deformities, "I require some help myself."

The man who looks like Snoke but claims to be Plagueis now turns and lumbers towards the doorway.

"Wait—I have questions," Kylo calls after him.

"I have answers. But first, let's get you more comfortable." Plagueis activates the door and reveals a slight graying human man in a plain black uniform. "Fetch Vanee with the droid, please. Our guest requires medical attention."

The older man steps forward into the room to peer across at him. "Master, you did it!" the man breathes out with obvious relief. "You actually did it!"

"Was there any doubt?" old Plagueis smirks. But then, his ruined face breaks into a proud grin. Clearly, he's pleased by his feat of Force.

The servant is less impressed. He frowns. "Are you sure it's him? He doesn't look anything like the rest of them . . ."

Kylo bristles under the blatant scrutiny. It doesn't help matters that he's naked, barely covered, and sprawled on the sofa.

"I always thought he would be handsome under that helmet."

"It's him," Plagueis confirms.

"Well, let's hope he's all you think he is," the older man worries aloud. "We've been disappointed before."

"He will be," Plagueis says emphatically. "But first, he needs to heal and to rest."

"Yes, Master. We will see to it." The old man now disappears at a surprisingly spry pace for his advanced years.

Kylo shoots his host a look once the servant departs. "Whatever you think you have planned, it won't work. Rey won't go for this. She'll never join you."

"Us. She's joining us," Plagueis corrects him mildly.

"Whatever. She won't go for it."

His host is unconcerned. "Don't be too sure," he chides coyly. "If this were sabacc, I'd say I have an ace up my sleeve."

"Yeah? What?"

"You."