Through the glass, she could see it all happening all over again. But this time, she wasn't dead. Or – there were two Reys, and she was watching herself, dead in his arms.

Ben lifted her from the floor and looked left and right, as if he thought help might come. He knew, though, that there was no one and nothing to help her. He was alone. The awful knowledge that he was alone again, as he'd been all his life, crept into the living Rey's body, an ache she knew so well. She'd known it as long as she could remember, like death itself crawling through her, spreading its spectral fingers wide within her chest. Only a few brief moments had she ever known that feeling to subside: with her friends in the Resistance, on Kashyyyk in dear Chewbacca's living room, and there with him.

The feeling was like an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail, with no end and no beginning. The feeling dwelled within her like a part of her, and it dwelled in him, and they both felt it because they were in fact one; and it pressed down on the Ben behind the glass, closing off his vision like a black mist, and she knew it because she felt it too because they were one.

She felt his resolve, then, when he knew what he had to do. The living Rey knew that he would do it, because here she stood, but she couldn't help but to cry out "no" when he nodded to himself. Ben held the dead Rey close, knowing that this was the only moment he would ever have with her. The living Rey hadn't known any of this, for she'd been dead, but that tenderest of moments broke her heart. And then he laid his hand on her, as she had done for him on the moon of Endor, and gave the last of his lifeforce to make her live again.

The dead Rey drew a breath and sat up. She spoke his name in wonder, and then she kissed him. The living Rey felt it too, felt Ben against her as he wrapped his arms around her. The specter fell away completely; there was only peace and oneness and the sweetest happiness she had ever known – and then, because there could only be death for either of them, she watched him collapse, right there, in her doppelganger's arms.

Rey realized she was on her knees, like the Rey behind the glass. That Rey hadn't been able to cry, but she could, and she did. And then, she too knew what she had to do. Rey climbed to her feet, her hands trembling with the pain and with anger for the Emperor who had done this to her and to him. Han, Luke, Leia, countless Resistance fighters and, yes, countless of the Emperor's own, had all died for the Emperor's vainglory, and he was not going to have Ben too. Rey stretched out her hands, both of them, and set her feet as if to parry a blow from a sword; the effort made all her muscles vibrate and twitch all at once, as she reached through the glass before her with the Force and locked all her concentration onto Ben Solo.

She pulled him, and he came out, sprawled on the floor before her. Her heart seemed to stop, because for a moment he didn't move; and then his eyes sprang open as it occurred to him that he wasn't dead after all.

"Ben," she whispered, and his face turned sharply to look at her. He scrambled, awkwardly like someone who'd just been woken to an alarm, to his knees. He was gaping at her, uncomprehending.

Rey crouched down so that her face was level with his. He looked at her, searchingly, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Three months she'd spent healing, building up her strength, trying to find herself again. She was strong and well, and somehow, she had found him. She touched the back of his hand with her fingertips, very lightly, because he was hurt, and she took a deep breath. She summoned the power she knew lay inside her, the life that he'd given her and that she'd built upon and grown like a blossom out of desert sand, and transferred that energy back to him. The burst skin under his eye, the blood from his split lip, all dried and closed; the bruises faded; his breath and heartrate slowed. The pain subsided.

Finally, he raised his hands and took her face in them. "How -" he started, then, "But I'm -", and at last, "What are you wearing?"

And she laughed, because it was ridiculous. It was all ridiculous. Ben covered her mouth with a kiss, hot and fierce and terrified. She was trembling too, as she knelt down and leaned into him; her arms wrapped around his neck and her body pressed against his. Her heart felt like it was bouncing wildly in her chest, pounding between her spine and her breastbone. She tasted salt tears, both of theirs.

Ben, still exhausted, collapsed down slightly from his knees to the floor, taking Rey with him. She clung to him, weeping even as she kissed him, a pile of tangled limbs and torn clothes and dirty hair. Of their own accord, her arms slid around his waist, under his shirt, and across his broad back, and then she was tugging at his clothes, suddenly desperate for the feel of his skin. She pressed into him more, her weight pushing him back; she caught them both with a hand before they hit the floor of the chamber, and he relaxed only slightly, resting his head while she lay on his chest, her mouth never leaving his.

In one motion, he rolled them both so he lay on top of her, her thighs around his hips. He was breathing hard, kissing her neck through her hair where it had fallen out of its braids, down to her collarbone. Rey moaned very softly at the feeling; he supported himself on one elbow, his other hand pushing up the skirt of her dress which had fallen to the floor around them, his fingers pressing into the flesh of her thigh. She scrabbled with his shirt again, as if to pull it up over his head. She meant to have him, and he her.

And then, suddenly shy, Ben pulled away from her and looked around them. If she didn't quite know where they were, she realized that somehow he did. "We can't," he whispered, his voice hoarse and deep. "Not here."

She was lightheaded, dizzy with desire. A promise, then.

She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath; she could feel his eyes watching her, memorizing her. "I love you," she murmured. His breathing stopped, caught short, and he sat up.

Rey opened her eyes and looked at him again, unsure and frightened by his silence. It had been wrong to say, she realized; she'd ruined the moment, ruined everything somehow –

"I would die for you," he said, in his own voice, firm and absolute. There was high color in his pale cheeks; he was incandescent with emotion, and Rey realized that it was not only with her own eyes she was seeing him, but through the Force. Happiness rolled through her. This was Ben, the real Ben, and he loved her.

They looked at one another for another moment, and then she asked, "You know where we are?"

His eyes darted around them, as if to confirm. He nodded. "Yeah."

"Then do you think you can get us out?"

He nodded again, a little less certain, and stood up. His clothes were arranged awkwardly on him where she'd been pulling at them; he shrugged them back into place and stretched a hand down to her.

She took it.