It was the middle of what the lower orders called "Dead Shift," so there was no one to witness Kylo's halting progress except for a maintenance droid. It was easy enough to override its orders and demand it help him back to his quarters. The still-smoldering pieces littered the corner of his room as he finished dressing and decided to reward himself with a moment of rest on the edge of his bed. Once sitting, however, his body rebelled. He fell back onto the hard matting and darkness swallowed him.

He was standing on the narrow bridge in the core of Starkiller Base. What little he could see glowed with a blood-red light. His eyes burned. Everything burned. The pain was so intense it was if he'd driven the lightsaber through his own chest. He couldn't breathe. He felt himself falling, watching the light fade until he was in complete darkness. And then something caught him. He hung in midair, feeling a tingle against his skin, and tried to think past the pain and confusion to try and understand.

The net. The energy net. Stormtroopers could be careless on the walkways, so the energy nets had been installed at certain levels to catch the valuable tools and weapons (and less valuable troopers, themselves) that fell. Kylo took a breath. Why would that matter, though? Why think of that now?

Your father was right, the voice whispered. Snoke is using you. He'll use you to get what he wants and then cast you aside like so much trash.

"No." He choked, feeling a familiar, coppery taste in the back of his throat.

You know who else was a tool? A puppet for his power-mad Master? There was a dramatic pause and Kylo tried to shut out the answer he knew was coming. Darth Vader.

"No!" He licked his lips, tasting blood.

Darth Vader, the terror of the Empire, was no better than a dog on the Emperor's leash. How does it feel to follow in his pawprints, puppy?

Kylo felt a band of metal clamp around his neck, but bands also snapped onto his arms and legs and around his chest, which still felt molten.

There's still hope for you, the voice said. No matter how dark you think things might be, there's always a bit of light.

He heard beeping, a slow, rhythmic sound that reminded him of medical equipment. Was he back in the infirmary?

Blurry forms began to take shape in the darkness. One was bright and reflective.. He still couldn't see clearly, but the chromed armor of the stormtrooper commander was impossible to miss. The smaller figure before her seemed to swallow the light.

"I don't care what the Supreme Leader says," Phasma said, "I refuse to waste such an important tool."

"He isn't a tool, he's a liability!" General Hux snapped. "And he's one that Snoke has ordered eliminated. Immediately."

Kylo was getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Were they talking about him? That couldn't possibly be right. If there was anyone who hated him more than Hux, it was Captain Phasma. She would never defend him. And Supreme Leader Snoke wouldn't order him eliminated. He was too powerful! Too valuable! He'd prove it as soon as he escaped whatever was happening.

There was a shimmer as Phasma moved. "Snoke has his own reasons for wanting him dead, but if we keep him alive-"

"Which is no guarantee," Hux interrupted.

"-we can use him to shatter the Resistance once and for all!" Phasma finished.

"I think you're overstating his importance," Hux said. "According to our reports-"

Kylo finally managed to draw another breath. It was torture. He could feel it bubbling like acid. The unseen machinery switched from quiet beeps to piercing alarms.

"General Organa will want him back," Phasma said. "I'd stake my career on it."

He sensed- something- being done, but his body went rigid. The bindings cut into him as he seized.

"General Hux." The artificially precise voice of a medical droid interrupted the argument. "He's crashing again. What are your orders?"

Bit by bit, Kylo could feel himself go numb even as the spasms continued.

"Put him in the tank," Phasma said.

Silence. Vision was fading. The voices grew distant.

"Your orders, General Hux?"

"...Put him in the damn tank."

Kylo sat upright on his bed, clutching his uninjured chest as he gasped for air. He was sweaty and disheveled, but he was still in one piece. Mostly. His side still throbbed and the slash across his face prickled as he fought to control his breathing. Just a nightmare. A very vivid nightmare.

Eventually his pulse slowed and he could breathe normally again. He changed into fresh clothes and slipped his mask into place. It helped him feel more complete. More like himself. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, reminding himself that he was Kylo Ren. No other identities mattered. Especially not after… not after what had happened. What had had to happen in order to make himself stronger. And he was stronger. He knew it.

It's not too late.

The traitorous little voice was whispering in the back of his head again. He smashed the mirror and stormed out of his room. The mask made his impaired vision even more obscured, but he would never have left it behind.

You can still save him.

It was a lie. The last shadow of Ben Solo had died with his father. He reached up, rubbing his chest and remembering the sound of medical equipment. No. His father was dead. He'd felt him die. There was no trace of him anywhere. And yet…

The pieces of the puzzle started to shift in his head. Snoke's anger that Kylo hadn't done as he'd ordered. The recollection about the energy nets. The argument between Phasma and Hux, even if it was just a wild nightmare, would fit if they were discussing Han Solo. And the pain in his chest, the one that almost seemed to echo somewhere else…

"Father?" He stopped in the middle of the corridor, straining his senses outward.

Don't make the same mistakes I did.

Something flickered on his right side. For a moment he could see someone standing in front of him. Young, with a mess of brown hair and dressed in traditional Jedi right hand was mechanical and he seemed… insubstantial.

There's always hope, the man said, and his voice was the one in Kylo's head. It isn't too late to make the right choice.

He turned his head, trying to get a clearer look, but the apparition disappeared. He lost track of how long he stood there, staring and thinking. When he heard voices approaching he activated his lightsaber and whirled. Two technicians screamed and fled back the way they came. He attacked the wall where the mysterious figure had stood, turning the panels to slag and shorting out the wiring behind them. The light overhead flickered and he stopped, breathing heavily.

Nothing happened.

He deactivated his lightsaber and clipped it back on his belt before turning and continuing down the corridor. He had a lot to think about, now.