It was a long and exhausting day, punctuated by periods of absolute frustration. Kylo gritted his teeth through the meeting Hux forced him to attend, letting the mind-numbing numbers wash over him: how many millions had died on Starkiller, the billions of credits lost, irreplaceable equipment and data, blah, blah, droning blah. Kylo reached down once in awhile to jab his thumb at his hip, using the fresh jolts of pain to keep him awake and fuel his anger. None of this was his fault. None of it was relevant to his interests, either, but Hux droned on. Sometimes Kylo suspected he simply loved the sound of his own voice. His "inspirational speeches" to the troops were frequent and tedious.

"Will that be all, General?" He drew out the words, inflecting them with sarcasm that was evident even through his mask's synthesizer.

Hux's lips thinned, turning even paler. "I'm sorry, Lord Ren," he said. "Are the reports of our staggering losses boring you? Or perhaps you're too weakened by your own injuries and need a rest?"

Kylo clenched his fist, reminding himself that his Master had ordered him not to kill the general when they'd first been assigned together.

"My concerns are focused on the future, not the past," he said. "If the Resistance has managed to obtain the completed map they will undoubtedly be sending someone to recruit Luke Skywalker to their cause. We need to make sure he doesn't make it back alive."

"Yes, That seemed to work so well for you last time."

He froze, wondering if Hux was was referring to his father's survival, but then he kept talking.

"Perhaps if you had done the job right the first time we wouldn't be in this position now."

"That is also in the past," he said, feeling the scar on his face tingle with new heat. "I'm stronger, now. More powerful." He inclined his head, watching Hux closely. "I killed Han Solo. I can kill Luke Skywalker. The First Order will not be stopped."

If Hux reacted to the name Kylo couldn't see it. Or feel it. He tugged on the sleeve of his newly-crisped uniform.

"We already have an agent handling the matter," he said. "In the event that the Resistance manages to convince him to crawl out of whatever hole he's hidden himself in, he won't survive long enough to accept."

Kylo frowned. He hadn't heard anything about an agent, but doubted the plan would succeed. Skywalker might be a fool where emotions were concerned, but he was still a capable fighter, or had been when he was training the cadets. Perhaps old age had weakened him, meaning that when the two of them faced off again Kylo would stand an even better chance of success.

"I'm sure you've thought of everything, General."

"I did graduate at the top of my class, you know." He smoothed back his already-perfect hair. "I also earned several Distinctions in Military Strategy and Assessment."

"So you've mentioned. Several times." Kylo stood, ignoring the twinge that shot down his leg. "If that is all, General, I do have more important matters to attend to."

"Of course you do." He flicked his fingers in the direction of the door. "Don't let me detain you."

With a flick of his robe, Kylo headed out. He wondered what it would be like to run Hux through with his lightsaber, but the thought brought up unwelcome memories. The slight tug from the hilt, the scent of seared flesh, widened eyes lit by a reddish glow. He swallowed his nausea as he walked off the command deck, people scurrying to get out of his way.

Doubt was clawing its way deeper than any physical wounds, worming through his mind and disrupting his thoughts. Supreme Leader Snoke was right to be angry with him. He needed to find a way to purge this weakness once and for all; to silence the traitorous voice that was making him question his destiny… and his Master.

Although he'd left Hux's presence with no clear goal in mind he found himself on his way to the Infirmary. It was a place he always avoided, but now something was drawing him onward. Maybe it was the best place to start; if he could confirm that Han Solo had not survived perhaps he'd have an easier time accepting that his own thoughts were lying to him.

If his father was alive, however…

"I'll finish what I started." The milkiness on his right side revealed a flash of brown robes. He lashed out at it, but only caught air.

He slowed as he turned the corner. Two stormtroopers were standing guard outside the entrance to the Infirmary. This was not standard practice. His doubts took root and spread.

The guards came to attention as he approached, saluting in unison.

"Sir!" The one with the red pauldron of an officer addressed him. "The infirmary is currently under quarantine. No one is permitted to enter."

"Is that so?" He stared at the trooper. The expressionless black-and-white helmet stared back. "I wasn't aware there were any contagions onboard."

"Yes, sir." The voice remained steady. "We're here to make sure it doesn't spread."

The other trooper's armor betrayed a slight rattle.

"I see." He shifted to stand in front of the second trooper. "What is your designation, trooper?"

"Me? Uh, sir?" The voice was either young or female. "Trooper GJ-1112, sir!"

"And do you agree that there's a quarantine, GJ-1112?"

"Sir," said the officer. "Captain Phasma has ordered-"

Kylo raised his hand and the officer's voice choked to a halt as he was frozen in place. The rattle of 1112's armor became more pronounced.

"Well?"

The trooper swallowed loudly enough for the audio receptors to pick it up. "Y-yes, Lord Ren? I- I mean, I just go where they tell me to, sir."

"Then I am telling you to return to the barracks and stay there. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" The trooper saluted again, edged past him, and began to march down the hall.

Kylo focused on the remaining trooper. He spread his fingers and concentrated.

"Who are you guarding?"

"Nngh!"

He didn't have to do much to read the answers he wanted. The image floated to the surface of the trooper's thoughts: a bacta tank with a gray-haired figure suspended in it. He released his hold and the officer collapsed to the floor, gasping.

"You are dismissed," he said, walking past him into the Infirmary.

The 2-1B unit intercepted him almost immediately. "This infirmary is under quarantine. If you require medical assistance-"

"Where is he?" Kylo surveyed the packed medical bay and saw a curtained area in the back.

"If you are here to see a friend I'm afraid visiting hours-"

Sparks flew as he cut the droid in half, heading for the curtained area. Alarms sounded. A human nurse came barreling out of a back room. He swatted her aside before she got halfway to him. Patients stirred restlessly on their beds, a few of them crying out or moaning, but Kylo ignored them.

He stopped in front of the curtain, staring. It was a muted blue, shifting slightly in the air currents. The scar across his face throbbed and he realized it was because his heart was beating faster. He took a deep breath. It was probably nothing. He stretched out his senses, but the fear and pain from the patients made it impossible to notice anything else. His hand trembled as he reached out and yanked the curtain aside.

The bacta tank was active, the gel bubbling slightly as it worked. Suspended in it was Han Solo. He had a breather in and a smaller device was attached to his chest over the hole Kylo's blade had caused. His eyes were closed, but the monitoring equipment reflected his vitals.

"So it is true." He placed his hand against the transparisteel. "Father."

He hadn't meant to speak the last word. He had no father and no family except the First Order. Emotional bonds made you weak. Vulnerable. He stared at the figure in the tank, but instead of feeling anger or hatred he felt remorse. Guilt. It was a sign of the flaw that ran through him, the one Snoke was always mocking. It had to be exorcised.

"Step away from the tank and put the lightsaber down!"

He whirled. A squad of stormtroopers filled the entryway, their weapons drawn but pointed at the floor.

"Put the saber down!" The voice repeated.

He glanced down to see that he still held his activated saber. He lifted it, looking back at the troopers.

"Kylo Ren you will cease this nonsense immediately!" Captain Phasma shoved her way through her troopers, standing in front of them to face him down.

"Nonsense, Captain?" His voice was calm. He smiled inside his mask, feeling the cold fire of his rage fill him. "You've been keeping secrets from me and you call this nonsense?"

"The prisoner is none of your concern. Step away immediately and disarm yourself." She, at least, was pointing her blaster rifle at his chest.

"On the contrary, Captain. The prisoner is very much my concern." He flung up his hand and the troopers flew back, crashing into the walls and knocking over medical trays. Phasma staggered, but remained upright.

"General Hux has been notified and is on his way," she said.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" He chuckled. "General Hux is nothing to me. This prisoner, however, is supposed to be dead. Supreme Leader Snoke, himself, has ordered it."

There were a few groans from among the fallen troopers. Phasma remained focused on Kylo.

"He has valuable information that is vital to the First Order. Once we have extracted it from him and he ceases to be useful, he'll be terminated. As ordered."

"Is that so?" He reached out, stroking the transparisteel again. "Or were you, perhaps, planning to use him as a bargaining chip with General Organa?"

Silence.

"It won't work," he said. "My m- the general might be an idiot where Han Solo is concerned, but she'd never betray her precious Resistance for him. Family has always been second place for her!"

Are you sure about that? The thought was intrusive, and worst of all it seemed to be wholly his own.

"Leave the tank alone, Lord Ren," Phasma said.

"Or what?" He didn't wait for an answer before hurling things at her. Trays. Equipment. Discarded blasters from the troopers. She deflected or ignored most of it, yelling at him to stop, but a canister of oxygen caught her between the shoulders and she was out.

He knew she wouldn't be down for long and was sure that backup was on the way. He turned and jabbed at the tank controls. The top opened and the automated system extracted the occupant, who hung limp in the restraints. Emotions flooded him, but while there was some anger and resentment, sadness was stronger. Even loneliness. He felt an echo of the twinge in his chest. The pain of loss was fresh again. Seeing Han Solo like this hurt. He removed a glove, touching his fingers against the puffy, too-pale skin of his father's cheek. It was wet and chilled from the gel still dripping off of him, but there was still a trace of warmth under it all. A spark of life.

Memories flooded through him; sitting in his father's lap in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon as he was allowed to steer her for the first time; getting into a snowball fight with his parents and the delicious moment when his father had switched sides and joined him in pelting his mother; falling out of his favorite tree into his father's arms. And then... the look on his face when Kylo had activated his lightsaber and pierced his chest.

The discharge and jolt were almost simultaneous. By the time he realized he'd been shot he was already collapsing to the floor.

That could have gone better, the voice in his head said.

Kylo was asleep. Or unconscious. He was also tired and sick of fighting.

"What do you want from me?" He couldn't tell if he was actually speaking or not.

What I've always wanted.

Something flickered in the darkness behind his eyelids. A familiar young man with wavy brown hair and intense blue eyes stared at him. He knew this face. He'd seen it somewhere.

I want you to make the right choices for the right reasons.

"Cut the bantha shit," he said. "I'm sick of voices in my head trying to tell me what to do. You. Master Snoke. My parents. My uncle. Everyone pulling me in different directions and nobody caring what I want!"

What do you want? The voice in his head sounded softer.

Kylo didn't know how to answer. He didn't know what he wanted except for a little peace and some time to figure things out for himself.

What are you going to do about it?

He didn't have an answer for that, either, but he could almost feel the thoughts in his head shifting to a new alignment.

"I know who you are," he said.

Of course you do. The figure moved closer. But are you willing to admit it? Are you willing to take that step and the ones that follow it? You forged your own path to reach this place at this time. Now what?

Eyes that weren't really there bore into his and he turned away, hunching his shoulders against a sudden chill.

General Hux was on hand when he awoke. Any time there was an opportunity to berate him, you could trust Hux to be ready. Neither of them tried to hide their contempt for the other, although Kylo found himself giving it a lot of thought as the general subjected him to another lecture about expenses and damage incurred due to "reckless behavior."

"You're lucky that Captain Phasma only stunned you," he said. "You injured her troops and nearly injured her. She was ready to kill you after that little stunt. I don't think I've ever seen her angrier."

Kylo doubted he'd been in any danger. Phasma was far too professional to risk killing him. It was, however, another point of consideration. There were very few people in his life who didn't despise him. It had never bothered him before. He didn't see why he should have to please anyone other than his Master and had simply let their hatred feed him. Now he suddenly found himself wondering why that was true and remembering a time in his life when he had been liked by those around him. A time when he hadn't been crushed by loneliness. He kept those thoughts buried deep and tried to move on.

It wasn't long before he was called before Supreme Leader Snoke to answer for his misbehavior. He weathered the punishments as he always did; in stoic silence. Suspended in the air, feeling as if his insides were being torn apart, he realized there might be something wrong with his situation. He made no attempt to deflect responsibility this time, promising to work harder and make fewer "errors in judgement."

"Something has changed about you." Snoke leaned forward in his massive throne. "Tell me what it is."

Kylo clamped down even harder on his thoughts, reinforcing his mental walls. "I am learning, Master. I realized that I've been acting like a child. It's time for me to grow up and accept who I am." Bracing himself, he looked up, meeting his Master's eyes.

Snoke's mouth twitched in the slightest of smiles. "Excellent. I knew I had chosen well when I sought you out as my apprentice."

Despite everything, Kylo felt a small burst of pride at the too-rare praise. He bowed as Snoke dismissed him and returned to his quarters to meditate. It felt as if he'd been walking through his life with his eyes closed and now, suddenly, he could see. He even admitted to himself that he knew who the ghost was; Luke Skywalker had kept a holo of him in his quarters, scrounged up from some old archive. It was Anakin Skywalker, the man who would later become Darth Vader. His grandfather. He'd tried keeping himself from acknowledging it, tried to deny the evidence of the vision, but denial was exhausting and now he was willing to face the truth. Not just about the ghost's identity, but that he was right. Kylo kept making the wrong choices and he no longer liked where they were leading him.

Weeks passed. His injuries healed, more or less. The scar across his face remained vicious, but his eye eventually cleared up. He still caught flickers of things that weren't there. Not only his grandfather, but others, too. A small green alien. An older man with a beard. He recognized them, but said nothing, uncomfortable with the weight of their silent scrutiny.

He remained on his best behavior, ignoring Hux's attempts to goad him. Every time he felt his anger surge he thought of his father, pale and unconscious with a hole through his chest. Hux's spite gave way to bemusement and Kylo caught several perplexed looks from him- and some of the other command crew- when they thought his attention was elsewhere. It was a good feeling.

The close scrutiny continued. Hux and Phasma clearly expected him to try and return to the Infirmary, but he didn't bother. His last visit had opened something in him and now, with a little concentration, he could sense a tenuous connection, just enough to give him an impression of where his father was and what he was feeling. Mostly what he sensed was pain and confusion. Once upon a time he might have enjoyed knowing his father was suffering, but now it bothered him.

He maintained his Force training and physical exercises, the latter helping to diminish the lingering ache in his hip. He also worked with Hux and his team, plotting the First Order's next strike against the Resistance. The base on D'Qar had been evacuated, but it was only a matter of time before they tracked down its new location. Kylo went through the motions, making suggestions and sitting through meetings, never betraying that his heart was no longer in their endeavors.

He also made plans. Despite the surveillance he was able to make arrangements and gather supplies. Everyone was so focused in one direction that they barely noticed anything else, and he used that to his advantage.

"And why do you need these supplies, sir?" The supply officer looked at a point past Kylo's left shoulder.

"It's for the general's cat," he said.

The officer blinked, staring into the eyeholes of Kylo's mask before catching herself and staring down at her datapad.

"Uh, yes sir. OK then. ...Cat supplies."

The bantha jerky, packets of water, and basic rations were acquired with shameful ease. While he normally relied on intimidation and his own reputation in order to get anything he wanted, sometimes he tried things just to see what he could get away with. The answer was pretty much everything.

Doubts plagued him more than ever. Not a night went by that he didn't question if he'd officially lost his mind. He'd spent most of his life shunning the Light and trying to escape his family while idolizing a very specific version of his grandfather and now he was planning to overturn all of that for what? Because a voice in his head that might belong to Anakin Skywalker was urging him to make better decisions? Because he'd finally realized he didn't hate his father? Redemption was beyond him, now. He'd made too many bad choices for "I'm sorry" to work. What could he possibly hope to gain from this?

And yet when he meditated to center himself and calm his nerves, the core of his power always glowed a little brighter when he thought about what he was planning. He'd always been taught that the Dark Side was the more powerful one, but while it was true in terms of raw energy, he was beginning to realize that power came in more than one form. He was on the right track. He had to believe that.