Back on Crait, Rey drifted far from the base, wanting to be alone, if only for a moment. There were several protests, but after a not-so-subtle reminder that she would could take care of herself, the complaints begrudgingly stopped.

She played with the salt covering the surface, unearthing reds and mixing them with whites idly, happy for a mindless task.

The planet was quiet, just the occasional whistle of the wind, the rustling she created, and occasional noises from the critters.

Despite the near silence, she noticed immediately when the sound of her surroundings abruptly softened.

Kylo.

"Rey." His voice tugged at her and she wanted to feel angry—she had tried to shut him out, after all—but she couldn't. Inwardly, Rey crumbled.

She hadn't seen Kylo since she had closed the door on him, and –she thought—on their connection. But she hadn't really spoken with him since they had fought together in the throne room. In that moment, she had known true hope for the first time in her life. She was filled with nothing but confidence in her vision—he would join the light, he would fight by her side again and again, and most importantly, they could be together. And Rey hadn't admitted to herself how much she wanted that until it was so close.

But then he had to shatter it.

She didn't want to rule over anyone.

"Rey, I see you," his voice cut through her thoughts, sounding slightly irritated.

"Kylo," she responded, and heard her voice clear and strong, nothing like what she felt. "I thought I closed the connection," she added flatly. She was still looking down at the red and white earth, unwilling to face him.

"I thought so, too." Kylo's voice broke for a moment, and she could tell that he was just as emotionally charged as she was.

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know." His voice was almost a whisper, but they were close enough that she could have heard it even if he spoke much quieter.

"I don't believe that," Rey snapped. She missed the days when he was just her enemy—the man who killed Han Solo.

"Are we back here again, Rey?"

She turned around abruptly, jutting her chin out in defiance. "We were never anywhere else, Kylo Ren."

His hair was different; slightly longer and more of a mess than the last time she had seen it. It was as if he had just left a battle. Perhaps he had. They were both seated now, but the area around Kylo remained perfectly pristine, covered in white salt crystals to remind her he wasn't really there—not quite.

"I don't believe you, Rey," he responded in that strangely hypnotic voice that seemed to make the words he spoke true simply by virtue of them leaving his lips. "Whoever bound us, something has changed between us."

"And what would that be, Kylo? Nothing can change while you still use that name."

"Why have you stopped calling me Ben, then?" He demanded.

"I've given up hope after the throne room."

"Rey…" He was frustrated, his brown eyes darkening slightly as his stare felt like it was cutting her. With difficulty, she broke their eye contact, playing with the salt again just to have to something else to focus on.

"Should I still have hope, Kylo?" Her voice was loud and carrying, but she still wouldn't look up.

"Hope for what, Rey?" There was a mocking undertone to his voice that made her gaze return to his.

"For you to be good. What else would I hope for?"

He reached his hand out, but Rey leapt backward, standing up and staggering slightly. "Don't," she replied, her voice small and quiet, no longer pretending to be indifferent.

He disappeared.