Thirteen:

Dropping out of hyperspace, the Millennium Falcon swooped gracefully over a ring of debris and landed on the small moon of Hraxis, orbiting the gas giant of Cusulee. The moon was a rocky almost airless hunk of nothing but Kineva Station was one of those out-of-the way lawless outposts where anything and everything could be purchased-at a price. The Republics-both of them-and the Empire had ignored the outpost, dismissing it as too small to notice and not important enough to waste the effort on so many smugglers congregated in the cramped modules, bathed in violent neon glows, breathing stale-smelling air and eating food and water that had been recycled too many times. There were still some slaves and indentured workers hidden in the backrooms and brothels which no one had ever bothered to release and everyone was viewed with suspicion-and as a mark.

The Falcon hardly looked out of place and was by no means the oldest or most battered freighter to pull up at Kineva but eyes would have noted her arrival. Because eyes noted everything on Kineva and Poe Dameron knew that by the time they had walked along the long connecting tubes to the main station from their distant (and therefore cheaper) docking position, the main players would already be fully aware of their arrival. The only hope he had was that word of Ren's bounties hadn't reached here yet.

Ren had remained deeply unconscious, his breathing shallow and occasionally hitching as he dreamed. And the dreams were horrific to behold, his entire body writhing in anguish, arms warding off shades and screams as if from the pit of hell. And then, just as suddenly as the storm had broken, it would pass and he would lie once more pale and unresponsive. No one knew what to do and only BB8 could offer much in the way of reassurance-that Ren's vitals were still strong, though the little droid could offer no insights to the cause of his illness. Reluctantly, Poe had left the droid with Ren while going out with Finn and Chewie to try to find someone willing and trustworthy to treat the former Supreme Leader.

The passageways were largely deserted and the jarring hum of the air recyclers was louder than would be expected in any civilised outpost. There were spots and smears of orange and green corrosion on the metal plates of the walls with clumsy patches. Finn glanced around.

"Are you sure this place will be able to help?" he asked Poe. "Or even stand long enough for us to get there or back before it falls to pieces?" Shaking his head, Poe kept his eyes fixed on the airlock door ahead.

"Relax," he said with more confidence than he felt. "We're here with the Resistance. I'm sure we'll be able to find someone here to help!" Chewie growled. "Okay-pretty sure," he amended and opened the door.

A riot of colour and noise hit them in the faces, the miasma of scents of cooking foods, oils, human and alien bodies, blood, perfume and ozone wafting in their faces. Chewie gave a moan and shook his head desperately. Finn sighed.

"I get that," he murmured as they moved through into a moderate sized plaza, surrounded by neon-signed brothels, food outlets and shops selling various chemical stimulants. Poe grinned broadly and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Okay, buddy-here we go," he said, plunging into the thronging crowds.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Finn muttered as he followed him.

-o0o-

He was on Starkiller once more, deep in the bowels of the Oscillator and walking with purpose because he was hunting the intruders...and he could sense a familiar presence that gnawed at the edges of his mind. Someone he had thought he had put behind him...a last link to his former life, a man who had disappointed him and rejected him and caused the boy he had been untold hurt and pain. He swept further in the struck out across the gantry to the far side of the enormous space to continue the search,

"Ben!"

He paused and turned, not giving a single sign of emotion, save taking a few steps back towards the tall shape approaching.

"Han Solo. I've been waiting for this day for a long time."

His voice was sneering, cold. And he spoke the truth: he had been waiting for so long to prove his loyalty to Snoke, to sever the last threads of his old life by disposing of those who had spawned him and then rejected him, afraid of his power, of his enormous potential. They had sent him away to Luke, to his Uncle, the famous, revered Jedi who had tried to murder him. Only Snoke had offered him sanctuary...at a price. Snoke who taught him, forced him to expand his powers at the risk of his life. Snoke who taunted him for his weakness and praised him for his ruthlessness. Snoke whose punishments were so terrible he feared them more than anything. Snoke who he hated as well as served. Snoke who had only gotten his hands on him because his own damned father had rejected him.

And Han Solo had gotten old. Still tall and straight but the old rogue's face was more lined and weatherbeaten than ever. His eyes twinkled still and his hair was grey. And his voice was rougher than his son remembered.

He wasn't his son. Ben Solo was gone. He was Kylo Ren.

"Take off that mask!" the old man said, his tone both commanding and compassionate. He inched forward. "You don't need it. Not here. Not with me."

"What do you think you'll see if I do take it off?" His voice was pitying.

"The face of my son."

"Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish like his father." His tone was angry, angry at the reminder, angry at his father for being here and forcing his hand. Angry for all those times Han hadn't been there. And angry at himself because a part of him still loved him for all those other times that he had was. "So I destroyed him. But such a small insignificant request is easily granted." He reached up, carefully removing the mask, staring at his father, seeing the shock and relief in Solo's eyes. The inspection was careful and then the man gave the slightest of nods.

"That's what Snoke wants you to believe. But it's not true," he added, his voice lowering a fraction. "My son is still alive. I'm looking at him right now."

His anger flared, filling him with the desire to push this man away, to defend what he was and reject that other life.

"No! The Supreme Leader is wise. He knows me for who I am and who I can become. He knows you for what you really are, Han Solo. Not a General. Not a Hero. Just a small-time thief and smuggler." The older man managed the faintest flash of a smile.

"Well he's got that part right," he conceded with a trace of humour-and then he walked forward, without a hint of hesitation as if he was approaching a skittish animal. "Snoke's using you for your power, manipulating your abilities. When he's gotten everything he wants out of you, he'll crush you. You know it's true. If you have half the ability, half the perception I know you do, you know that I'm telling the truth. Because, unlike him, I have nothing to gain from it."

He felt a shiver of regret that was instantaneously quashed.

"It's too late," he said abruptly.

"No, it's not. Leave here with me. Come home." He closed further. "Your mother misses you."

That strike hit something in his heart, the regret he had concealed from the very start. She was the first being he had felt, the warmth that had cradled and nurtured him, filtering out the darkness and cold and he missed her. Even though she had sent him away, he missed her. He loved her. His eyes shone with unshed tears though he knew that Solo could see them. His throat was thick with the effort of speaking.

"I'm being torn apart. I want-I want to be free of this pain."

They were almost face to face and he found his chest tight. Snoke's words rolled around his head and the anger warred with the sudden painful longing to leave, to go with this man and return to the family he had abandoned. Snoke's voice repeated on a loop, over and over, whispering poison into his mind as he had done almost all of Ben's life, corrupting the prodigiously talented child and turning him away from the Light.

But he really wanted to go home.

"I know what I have to do but I don't know if I have the strength to do it." His voice...those fateful words. Something inside him wanted to scream, to grab him and pulled his hands away. He looked up into his father's eyes, almost pleading. "Will you help me?"

"Yes. Anything," Han Solo said, never taking his eyes off the young face facing him. Easily, he unclipped his lightsaber and moved it between the two men, the blade facing sideways. Offering a small smile, Han placed his hand over his son's, closing around the unstable device…

...and then his hand tightened. Ben/Kylo gave a gasp, his eyes snapping wide open as the blade impaled his chest. The red flickering light of the blade turned his father's eyes red, casting deep shadows on his rugged features. He thrust the blade forward and Ben gave a slight gasp, his eyes wild.

"Dad…" he mouthed. Solo gave a low growl.

"Your mother is ashamed-and so am I," he hissed. "You betrayed everything she worked for. And though she asked for you to come home, you know this is the only way. You made your choice all those years ago and you can never come back. This is the only thing I can do to protect her-and lay my son to rest!"

The blade deactivated and he felt the man move away though the burning agony in his chest remained. Reaching desperately for Solo, for Snoke, for anyone, he felt his life ebb and fade. Slowly, he toppled sideways and vanished into the depths…

-o0o-

"No. Can't help!" The little green alien was the fifth medical practitioner who had turned them down and Poe was beginning to despair that they would find anyone who would be willing to even look at the patient. Money seemed to be no issue: the moment they mentioned he was a Force User, the healers shut down. In desperation, the former pilot asked if there was anyone who could help.

"Tamini," was the answer.

Frowning, he emerged to find Finn and Chewie trying to discourage a group of orphans were were clustering around them. Poe yelled and grabbed the nearest one's arm, twisting the thin limb until the child cried out and released the credits she had pickpocketed. Scooping them up and releasing her, she hissed and then ran away, calling to her friends. He pushed the credits back into Finn's hands.

"Gotta watch the little ones," he advised. "Stay sharp." The former stormtrooper nodded.

"This is a rough place," he commented. "So same answer?" Poe nodded, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Tamini," he repeated.

"And where do we find this Tamini?" Finn asked, his dark eyes flicking from person to person. He was uncomfortably aware of eyes on him. Poe sighed.

"Kaalan Kon Kolb," he revealed. Finn stared at him, recognising the faint exasperation in his tone.

"And that's bad why?" he asked. Chewie gave a whine.

"Kaalan Kon Kolb is the big boss round here-and I may have had a run in with him when I was with the Crew," Poe mumbled. Chewie gave what was definitely an unimpressed growl as Finn stared at his friend.

"Really?" he asked in shock. "Is there anyone you haven't had a run in or annoyed?"

"Some people," Poe replied defensively. "Maybe on the Mid-Rim since I haven't actually been there much…" Finn rolled his eyes.

"And I just thought Ren was the popular one," he commented. "But…"

"Yeah, yeah-we need to see if this Tamini can help," Poe conceded.

"Or we could check with Maz first," Finn said suddenly. "She may be able to confirm if Tamini is the only option. And she does understand something about the Force." There was a pause as Poe considered. Generally brash, confident and independent, the former pilot and now de facto leader of the Resistance was very self-sufficient and preferred to be able to sort problems out for himself. He hated being out of the loop and not involved in all the decisions so contacting the base back of Ajan Kloss was an admission that he had run into something they couldn't handle. Not that the whole mission was something he preferred not to handle, from the moment that Ren and Finn had effectively kidnapped him. In fact, Ren's appearance had caused a major fracture in the Resistance, so focussed when fighting for their lives but now pulling apart when the main danger had been defeated. Everyone had his or her personal vision of what a post-First Order Galaxy should look like and many of them were diametrically opposed.

Yet Ren hadn't been what he had expected, no matter his personal feelings towards the former Supreme Leader. Every fibre of Poe's being screamed that whatever had happened to Ren was the Universe repaying him for the uncountable evils he had committed and if having his mind wracked by ghosts and nightmares for the remainder of his life was what was going to happen, maybe they shouldn't try too hard to stop it.

And yet...Finn believed that he was sincere when he said that he knew a way they could get Rey back. That there was hope that the final loss of the Jedi could be avoided. And Rey, who came from nothing, who had worked harder and more determinedly than anyone in her time with the Resistance, deserved a chance. Even if it meant dealing with the man who had turned Poe's mind inside out. A man who clearly had feelings for Rey and who had demonstrated he would do what it took to complete the mission-even to the extent of risking a return to the First Order when he had turned his back on them.

And they had turned their back on him.

Kaalan Kon Kolb was a dangerous man, a heavyset humanoid whose grey skin was certainly blaster resistant and whose remote purple eyes positively twinkled with delight when he was condemning a rival to death. Poe had seen those eyes as a small-time pilot for the Crew when they dealt with Kolb's Gang and he never forgot the screams as they spaced a young woman who had disappointed the leader and the laughter as they had killed her lover.

"Check with Maz," he murmured.

-o0o-

"You're in a pickle, flyboy," Maz had told him bluntly, her eyes twinkling in amusement at his chagrin. "Tamini is one of the good ones. Her Mother learned her trade before the Clone Wars when Jedi were commoner and she definitely had experience in dealing with Force-related mishaps."

"Maz-we don't know what this is," Poe told her honestly, though she could sense his exasperation. Her lined orange face moved into a serene smile.

"Well, he was meditating and suddenly he had a convulsion, you said? And he's been out of it since? Sounds like a Force issue to me!" she told him calmly. "And there are few people who could offer him much aid-none here, by the way. You struck lucky when you landed on Kineva. The next nearest is gonna be on Coruscant."

"Which will be swarming with bounty hunters," Finn put in.

"Could he wake on his own?" Poe asked.

"Who can tell, kiddo?" Maz replied, smiling. "Get him to the healer and see what they can do for him." And then she leaned close to the camera. "But Ben Solo or Kylo Ren is a very powerful Force User. For him to be taken down can only mean a more powerful one attacked him. And that could mean a problem getting him back...or trying to rescue Rey."

-o0o-

Rey was bored. Time seemed to stretch endlessly and all she could do was prowl the red-washed, jagged and distinctly hostile land of Dathomir. For someone who had spent her life busy, working or training almost every hour there was, it was an exotic and cruel form of torture.

She couldn't reach Ben again, which concerned her deeply. There was something-fragments of darkness, echoes of pain, confusion, fear...the emotions she had sensed through the bond when Kylo Ren was struggling with his own inner demons, the conflicts stoked by Snoke and fought between his inner light and the almost overwhelming darkness that had tainted his soul. She could feel pain, flashes of it occasionally causing her to wince as she explored the serrated landscape. Suddenly, she stopped, her entire core filled with enormous sadness and terrible, terrible guilt. And then pain, confusion and despair.

Instinctively, she reached out to him, trying to project calm and reassurance-but every effort rebounded off the smooth, impenetrable barrier she felt separating him from her. Beyond the barrier, he was reaching for her, writhing in pain and desperate. Concentrating on those final moments on Exegol, on the unutterable relief and triumph she felt when he stood at her side and they faced the Emperor together, she reached out to him. Focussing every ounce of the adamantine determination she had possessed in pursuing him, in believing that she could turn him to the light, in healing him from the lethal wound she gave him, she prised a tiny hole through the barrier between them and tentatively reached out to him.

Suddenly, she found herself drawn down the connection, images flying past her, chaotic and jarring. Some she recognised-Han Solo's death, their multiple lightsaber battles, the death of Snoke and the resulting battle with his red-clad Praetorian Guard, the crash on Pasaana...and others that were alien, deaths and attacks and confrontations across council tables. And over and over, she saw the bloody floor of Snoke's chamber and caught the edge of such pain and cruelty that made her heart break.

Floating above, she realised that they were inside a building, the rough stone walls throbbing with power and the shrouded shape of an alien manipulating power as she held him captive. Trapped in a column of bluish light, Ben was hammering his fists against the barrier, screaming for her to go. His frantic expression made her turn...and freeze.

Behind her, there was a monster, swathed in darkness but wearing the face of Palpatine.