Hux's vigilance eventually waned. Even Phasma stopped assigning troopers to trail him. He kept playing the disgraced apprentice who was proving he'd learned his lesson. It simply wasn't the lesson anyone thought it was.

At last the time was right. Deep into the Dead Shift he put on his stolen officer's uniform, tied his hair in a bun, and tucked it under his hat. There was no way to hide his scar, but a bit of makeup made it less obvious. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and tried to calm his racing pulse. He almost looked normal. Unremarkable. His face was a little long and the hat made his ears stick out too much, but he looked… human. And very, very exposed. When was the last time he'd stepped out of his quarters without his robes and mask? He wasn't sure he ever had.

Next he walked over to his most prized possession. He placed his bare hand on the cold, twisted surface of the black helmet and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Grandfather. I've worked so hard to continue your legacy, to try and finish what you started. For years I've begged you to show me the power of the Dark Side and have been met with silence. I thought it was because you found me unworthy. But now I finally understand. You've been speaking to me all along, I just haven't been listening."

He sensed a presence beside him as he continued. "I've been lied to, and I lied to myself, but that ends now. Grandfather. Anakin Skywalker. I think I'm finally beginning to understand. My choices have always been my own, but maybe now I can choose with my heart instead of my hate."

You learned faster than I did, the voice whispered. I'm proud of you, Ben.

The presence faded and he opened his eyes. Maybe this ridiculous plan would work after all. Maybe the Force was on his side. Turning, he left his quarters and headed to the auxiliary detention area. Someone was always on duty here, but Kylo had the proper codes and a little mental redirection took care of any possible problems. He entered the interrogation room and stared at the prisoner.

If possible his father looked even worse than when he'd last seen him. He was stretched on the interrogation table, stripped to the waist, the restraints digging into his much-thinner arms. The device on his chest still evident, as were dozens of bruises in various shades from red-purple to yellow. There were cuts on his face and arms and one eye was swollen shut. The other eye was simply closed and his breathing was ragged.

"Little… early fr' th'next round. Didja miss me?" The words were slurred and indistinct.

"Yes," Kylo said. "Although I'm not sure why I should bother."

His father twitched, his one good eye blinking open to peer at him. "Ah. Was wond'rin' when they'd send y' in." He grimaced. "Why-" He broke off, coughing. It was wet and bubbly.

Kylo was already moving before he made the conscious decision to do so.

"They didn't send me." He undid the restraints and caught his father as he fell, helping him to the floor. "Not that I expect you to believe that." He held out the clothes he'd brought with him. A prisoner work detail coverall.

"Yer right." His father stared at the offering then looked up at him through a red-rimmed eye. "I don't b'lieve you. Whatever game yer tryin' t'play, here, leave me outta it."

"Just get dressed, old man." Kylo struggled not to frown. "We don't have a lot of time."

"I ran outta time a long time ago." Sighing, his father closed his eye. "Whatever yer doin' jus' get it over with."

"I'm trying to get you out of here, Dad!" He clapped a hand over his mouth. " I mean… hurry up. If the shift change finds the guard missing they'll know something's wrong."

His father was staring at him. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and the dead line of his scar, but the slip worked where mere orders hadn't. With a little help his "prisoner" was soon ready for transport.

"What changed?" His father coughed again, reaching up to clutch the device now hidden inside his coverall.

"What is that thing anyway?" Kylo asked.

"Bacta injection thingy." He clung to the proffered arm. "They say it's what's keepin' me alive."

It almost sounded like a question, but he'd never bothered to learn anything about medicine, so he shrugged.

"It regulates th' gel. Fills in th' hole bit by bit."

"Oh." He should have known better than to ask.

His father kept trying to talk, but it was clear that all of the exertion was exhausting him. Kylo told him to be quiet so he could listen for anyone approaching and that finally seemed to work.

Somehow they made it to the hangar without incident, but then their luck ran out.

"There they are!" A trooper shouted… and opened fire.

Kylo slung an arm around his faltering father and half-dragged him across the deck to his waiting shuttle. Blaster shots whizzed past them and he was hard-pressed to deflect them all, but he managed it. Barely. One grazed his hip near his previous injury and he staggered, fetching up against the side of his personal shuttle.

"Go!" He slammed the control panel to open the door.

"Are you coming?" His father limped up the ramp and scrabbled at the wall.

"Don't be ridiculous!" He unholstered his sidearm and fired back, taking out several of the troopers. More and more were filing into the hangar. How? Had they known all along?

"There's nothing for me out there," he said. "Just go!"

Blaster fire erupted from inside the shuttle. More troopers went down. It took Kylo a minute to remember that an emergency blaster was a standard feature on First Order shuttles. He shouldn't be surprised his father knew that, too.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on the damn shuttle, Ben!"

"I'm not-"

He felt his father grab his arm and then they were both falling onto the ramp. It tilted upwards, dumping them both into the shuttle as it slammed shut. Multiple blasts impacted it as he scrambled back to his feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His father remained on the floor, face blotchy and panting heavily. "Saving… your sorry… ass."

"I told you, I can't go-"

"Hey." His father waved a hand before dropping it onto his chest. "Can you… fly this thing?"

Kylo glared. "Of course!" As much as he would love to deny it, he was still his father's son; he was a natural pilot. Just because he wasn't allowed to fly his own shuttle didn't mean he didn't know how.

"Then less fighting, more flying."

He opened his mouth to argue, but he could hear someone outside the door, trying to work the controls. And his father was still on the floor, clutching the device in his chest.

This isn't over," he snarled, stomping into the cockpit.

He flicked switches and the shuttle powered up, rising into the air. He grabbed the controls and fired the twin laser cannons into the gathering ranks of stormtroopers before pivoting the ship to make their escape. A patrol was due in soon, which meant the bay was open. They took more fire making their exit and then he was kept busy fending off the Finalizer's armaments, dodging TIE fighters, and firing at anything that crossed his sites.

He'd programmed in the coordinates the day before, but it took the computer a few minutes to adjust and set the course before making the jump to hyperspace. Once the starfield blurred he slumped back in his chair and sighed.

"That was some pretty fancy flying."

Kylo swiveled, glaring up at his father. If his injuries were still bothering him he gave no sign of it as he dropped into the copilot's seat.

"This was a mistake."

His father grunted. "Well, you're about seven years too late, but at least you finally recognized it."

"I meant this." He gestured at the cockpit. "I had a plan, you know."

"What, dying?" His father arched an eyebrow. "Let me tell you, kid, dying nobly for someone you- for someone else is overrated. You might think it's some grand sacrifice, but all it does is hurt the ones you leave behind."

His chest ached. He turned to stare out the viewport at the streaks of light. "I've hurt a lot of people already. What's a little more?"

"It's a lot."

He felt a hand on his arm. "Ben…"

"That isn't my name anymore." He shifted his arm to his lap.

"Well I'm sure as hell not calling you Kylo Ren."

"That… isn't my name, either. Not anymore."

Silence. The view was almost hypnotic. Watching it he could almost forget how much he'd lost and how little more he had to lose.

"So what do you want to be called now?" His father's voice was roughened, but he still knew how to speak softly.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter." Loneliness threatened to overwhelm him. He blinked his eyes to keep them clear.

"Doesn't it? You know I-"

"Just stop!" His breath hitched and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He was not going to let this happen. Not now, not ever. "Stop it. You can't save me, F-Father." He stumbled over the word and avoided looking at him for fear of what he might see. "I made my choices a long time ago. You can't undo that."

"No. But maybe I can help now."

He felt his father's hand fumble for and grasp his own. His instinct was to pull away again, but instead he held on tight.

"I can't go home," he said. "You have to know that. Even if you and Gen- if you and M-Mom could keep me from the firing squad I'd still be in prison for the rest of my life. And I'm not going to do that."

"Ben… Son… We can work something out." His voice was getting ragged and was further betrayed by a sniffle.

Kylo- or whoever he was now, he didn't even know- blinked again, refusing to look. His grip got a little tighter.

"I've already worked it out," he said, pausing to clear his throat. "I'm taking you to Pagodin Station."

"I've been there," his father said. "It's not a very nice place."

"No, but they shouldn't care about a First Order command shuttle showing up in their midst and I'm sure you'll be able to talk your way onto a transport back to the Resistance."

"What about you?"

He took a calming breath and finally turned to look at his father. "Once you're off the ship, I leave. I can't take this constant pulling anymore." He could feel tears spilling from his eyes and hated himself for it.

His father winced. "Son..."

He shook his head. "No. It's my choice. Mine! No more listening to the voices in my head, not even when they're trying to help me." He could see the frown forming and talked faster. "I have to go somewhere that they can't reach me. It's the only way I can be free!"

"Your mother and I…"

"I have to do this, Dad. I want to do this!"

They stared at each other for a long moment before his father bowed his head.

"I… I need to think about this. Your mother… she knows I'm alive. She deserves to know that I'm- that we're…"

Something coiled tight in his chest finally loosened and he smiled. "I'll take care of it. You should get some sleep."

That earned him a sharp look. "I'm not helpless, you know."

"Neither am I. Rest up, old man. You can take over for me later."

His father snorted, struggling to stand. "I'll show you old," he grumbled.

He released Kylo's hand slowly then reached up to snatch the hat off his head.

"And take that damn thing off," he said, tossing it to the floor. "Looks ridiculous."

A hand ruffled his hair, shaking the bun loose. Kylo's eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat, remembering the familiar gesture. Then his father was leaving the cockpit, grumbling about trying to find a bunk on the damned ship.

"And don't get into any trouble while I'm out!" He shouted.

"I'm your son," Kylo said. "Getting in trouble runs in the family!"

Laughter dissolved into coughing and then annoyed mutters before his father found the door to the private quarters and disappeared.

Kylo stared out at the starfield for a while, feeling at peace for the first time in years. The battle was far from over, but for now, at least, he could enjoy himself. He'd almost forgotten what that could be like.

Leaning forward, he brought up the computer interface, easily slicing through the walls of security to get to the ship ID. He erased the designation that was there and thought for a minute before typing in a new name for the ship.

Salvation

It seemed like a good place to start.