'Not necessarily,' he replies, looking up. 'There's a ship that the Resistance aren't guarding.'

It takes her a while to spot it because it is in a low orbit around Ajan Kloss and only really visible when its outline shows up against the second moon.

She struggles to make it out. 'That's a… freighter of some kind? A large one?'

'Not that I'm trying to be a walking encyclopaedia, but I think it's a Whaladon-class container ship, an old one. You can tell by the square sides. It can't land so the cargo will be ferried up there in smaller ships. I'd guess that's a logging vessel.'

'And you want to steal it?'

He looks affronted. 'That's not the Jedi way. Think about it – the Resistance are expecting us to take a small, fast craft big enough for two and make a break for the nearest hyperlane. They'll be looking for stolen ships, or ships that have been chartered recently with no cargo and an unusual flight path. But that's a very obvious way to escape. We're far better off trying to blend in. I think we should hitch a ride on the logging ship instead and let it take us wherever it's going. Then later, when we're sure we're not being followed, we can go back to Exegol.'

'So – you want us to stow away on it?'

'No. I want us to enlist. I think we should volunteer as crew. That way we have a cover story – if we stow away and get caught there will be a huge fuss, but two crew members on a ship who are exactly where they're supposed to be are far less obvious.'

Her mouth falls open for a second. 'Your plan is that you and I, the last Jedi and her idiot apprentice, should get jobs on a logging freighter?'

He bows for a second. 'Yes, Master Skywalker, that is exactly what I'm suggesting. Do you have any better ideas?'

'Alter image? Force illusion? Force cloak?' These are words cribbed from the pages of the Jedi texts although she has only the vaguest idea how they work.

'Not with that many people, and not where there are Toydarians. Teleport, fold space or Force travel would work, except that I'm trying to kick my dark side habit, Force stun would be good but again, too many people, Force flash won't last long enough. What have I missed?'

'I could just walk down there and ask Poe to let us go.'

'And I'm sure he would. You could fly away right now if you wanted to. But apparently, I'm the most wanted man in the galaxy, so if you want to stay with me then I'm afraid you're going to have to get a job.'

'Kylo Ren would never have come up with such a stupid idea,' she mutters mutinously.

'I'm not Kylo Ren,' he says.

An hour later Rey is standing in front of a startled looking officer, who has agreed, after a short spell of persuasion by the mystical power which connects all things, that he does have an immediate opening for two new crew members who need to be transported up to the orbiting freighter as soon as possible.

'Your qualifications are in order,' he repeats dully. 'I do not need to see a reference.'

'Excellent.' Ben is looking very pleased with himself. 'And I believe the signing on bonus is payable now.'

The man blinks. 'Signing on bonus? Salaries are due each period in arrears. There is no signing on bonus.'

Ben waves a hand. 'You will pay the signing on bonus to us now.'

'I will pay the signing on bonus to you now.'

'That's stealing,' Rey whispers, watching the credits fill up the brand new account she has recently opened in her false name.

'It's an advance,' Ben whispers back. 'I hate being poor.'

The officer blinks rapidly and looks down at the pad in his hands as if wondering what it is doing there. 'Then, all you need to do is sign your names on the employment contract and we're done.' He holds out the device to Ben, who has taken on a similarly confused look.

Without thinking too hard about it, Rey grabs the pad and enters her assumed name, something so random she is sure that no one will be able to connect it to her, and then hands it back.

'Welcome to the crew of the Long Goodnight ah – Mr and Mrs Plutt. The droid will take you to the ship and show you your quarters.'

Rey stares straight ahead, focusing only on the dented looking protocol droid which totters in front of her out to the waiting shuttle. It is done now, and, although she is embarrassed she isn't sure how else she could have played it. She doesn't want to be parted from him, not again, and besides, they have spent the last few days in a tent together, this will surely not be too different. Ben shoulders the remnants of their luggage and she hears his footsteps behind her clanging up the ramp and into the ship.

The Long Goodnight is the largest vessel she has ever seen, bigger even than Snoke's Dreadnaught, although it looks far less malign. There are no weapons ports, no throng of supporting fighters, no intimidating communications array or sinister bridge and the ship resembles nothing so much as a giant floating slab of metal with a hole in one end, into which their shuttle is directed. Ben says nothing as they are swallowed by the craft and the light from Ajan Kloss is extinguished by bulkheads and durasteel. The hangar bay holds a neat row of cargo transports, the last one containing a few trunks which are currently being unloaded by a couple of droids and a lot of automated machinery.

'When are we leaving?' she asks their guide.

'The Long Goodnight has been in orbit for fourteen standard days and is due to depart at 0500 hours tomorrow morning, madam. The first stop will be Vuchelle, followed by Fedje, Ketaris, Agamar and then Cademimu.'

'And how many crew are on board?'

'The Long Goodnight has a crew complement of four, the captain, first officer, and two cargo handlers. I have not received instructions on the roles to which you have been appointed, but I will pass on this information as soon as I am informed. Here is your cabin now. Good night, madam. Sir.'

Rey is surprised that a ship with such a small crew even has married quarters, but given its age, perhaps it is not surprising that it was once used for other things. There isn't a lot of money in paper anymore, and wooden products are a niche market, which accounts for the lack of other live staff; droids are cheap, and it is probable that whoever owns this vessel bought it for a knock down price and runs it on a shoestring budget.

The room to which she is shown obviously hasn't been used in some time, the air has a stale quality from too much passage through oxygen scrubbers and although there is no dust, the furnishings show signs of wear. There is a large bed in the centre of the chamber, with more space around it than she was expecting, and plenty of storage units on the walls. A table and two chairs are set in one corner and there is a door which will lead to a fresher in the far wall.

Ben dumps their belongings on the floor, throws his cloak onto a chair and flops onto the mattress with a sigh. 'A proper bed,' he mutters to himself, with an expression of rapture on his face.

Rey explores the cupboards, finding a selection of uniforms – mostly blue boiler suits with zip up fastenings and the Long Goodnight's logo on the right hand side of the chest – and an array of safety equipment, including helmets and gloves. She grabs the bags off the floor and begins to unpack. Behind her, Ben has stopped luxuriating on the bed and tips the contents of his pack out onto a cabinet, sifting through it until he finds what he wants. Then he grabs a towel and heads for the fresher.

Rey isn't really sure what to do with herself. This doesn't feel like their camp in the woods, where she could disappear off to the cenote for some privacy or go for a walk if she wanted to. Here, she is hemmed in with metal walls, in a room meant for two and she finds herself wondering what he is expecting to happen next.

Then he strolls out of the fresher wearing only a towel and she ceases to think about anything else. There seems to be a lot more of him in the enclosed quarters, he appears taller and broader and he takes up more space, with his pale chest and hulking shoulders and the hair that is still slightly damp hanging in his eyes.

He says approvingly, 'Hot water.' And then he drops the towel and reaches out for the black sleeping trousers she recognises from this morning.

At first, she doesn't know where to look and then she finds that she does know where to look and she can't stop looking. He has his back to her but the smooth flesh of his naked backside is pointing in her direction and it is a luscious sight. His skin is slightly pink from the fresher, stretched in graceful lines across the muscles that bunch beneath, disappearing into a dark hollow where the tops of his powerful thighs meet. His sudden lack of clothing suggests he has a very good of idea of what he is expecting to happen next and she rips her gaze away, yanks a towel off the pile and disappears into the fresher.

The water is hot and it does nothing to cool the fire in her cheeks, the warmth she feels pooling in her belly. She knows that she is overreacting, because she has feelings for this man, she has kissed him and has spent the last few days waking up in his embrace, but the implications of this attraction suddenly seem overwhelming. She has to remind herself that he has lost his memories, he isn't the person she lost a few days ago but as she stands under the trickle of water she can't help but think that there is a route she has not yet tried to help him get those recollections back. She has not yet kissed him. It is possible that, given that her kiss was the last thing he felt before he died, if she kisses him again he may remember who he is. He is wandering around her bedroom naked, and it is probably a reasonable assumption that he is expecting her to kiss him, so she may as well stop prevaricating and get on with it.

She dries herself, lets her hair down and then wraps the towel around her chest and steps boldly into the bedroom. Ben has spread a cloth on the bed and is in the process of unpacking the food he bought in the market yesterday, some kind of exotic fruit caught between his teeth indicating he was too hungry to wait and has started without her.

He doesn't look up as he transfers his snack into one hand and gestures around at the various preserved meats, bread and fruit laid out in picnic form on the counterpane. 'I promised you dinner,' he mumbles, swallowing, and Rey drops her towel and walks calmly over to the cupboard where she has stashed her pyjamas.

There is a fit of coughing from the bed, so loud and so sudden she thinks he might be choking to death so she glances back over her shoulder to find him staring at her, mouth open to reveal half masticated fruit, his eyes enormous as he takes her in. His cheeks flush a vibrant red when he sees she has turned and he drops his gaze immediately to fiddle with the edge of the blanket and she pulls on her clothes as fast as she can.

'So – um – who is Mr Plutt?' he asks in a voice so nonchalant it has to be fake.

She takes a seat on the mattress next to him and crosses her legs. 'The person I was left with on Jakku. He raised me.'

He lifts his eyebrows, and the colour of his skin is only now returning to normal. 'A father figure then?'

'No. Definitely not.'

'Glad to hear it.' He attacks another piece of fruit. 'I thought tomorrow we could start on lightsaber training. I haven't even turned mine on yet. And there are some aspects of the sense and alter techniques I'd like your opinion on. I'm also interested in your views on the practical application of the more mystical aspects of the Jedi texts, like the 'world between worlds' concept.' He licks juice off his fingers. 'Do you think I should build my own lightsaber? That seems to come near the end of formal training.'

She isn't really interested and only replies because he is expecting it. 'You aren't at the end of your training, you've only just begun.'

'But I feel like I know most of the theory already, so I just need practice on how to apply everything in real life.'

'Make a new weapon then,' she replies. 'But no crossguards, and it can't be red.'

'Why would I want a red one?'

She goes back to the fresher to clean her teeth rather than answer and since she is in there so long, steeling herself for what comes next, he has packed away dinner and is already under the covers by the time she comes out. There is a hint of wariness in his expression as he watches her approach. She dims the lights and slides into bed beside him before she can lose her nerve. Her hand is a trifle jerky as it comes up to caress his face in the same place she touched him last time and when she leans in she is too rough and awkward. But then her lips are on his and his mouth is warm and alive and softly yielding under the pressure, her heart thumps wildly in her chest and she screws her other hand into a fist in her lap.

He lets it go on for no more than a moment before he moves away and she searches his eyes for the recognition which should be coming. He will need help through this, he will need support when he realises who he is, and what he has done.

He drops his eyes to her lap and opens his mouth. 'I don't want this,' he says.

She doesn't understand.

'I mean, this isn't what I had in mind.' He waves a hand at the battered cabin, the dented furniture. 'I didn't suggest that we came here because I wanted to get you into bed. You said we needed a long term plan, and I wanted you somewhere you had a proper roof over your head, and didn't have to worry about where the next meal was coming from.' He gestures vaguely at his mouth. 'And while this is flattering, and I'm very appreciative, really I am, last night you were crying in my arms because you're still in love with someone else. You aren't ready to move on yet.'

He is too busy rejecting her to remember anything. 'Who are you?' she whispers, because she is coming to the conclusion that she doesn't know.

He runs a hand through his hair. 'An idiot, obviously. An idiot trying to explain to a considerate, powerful, exceedingly beautiful woman in his bed, that he isn't going to kiss her back.' He takes the hand she still has frozen in mid-air and folds it into his own. 'When I touch you, if you ever let me near you again after this, I don't want you lying there imagining I'm someone else.'

She whips her fingers back, her face flushing, and she slashes her hand to plunge the room into darkness before rolling away to the extreme edge of the bed and knotting herself into the blankets.

'Ben never touched me.' She feels the need to set him straight. 'I kissed him but that was it.'

'He loved you enough to die for you but he was too chaste to want anything else? That's not a standard I'd like to be compared against.'

She lies in her marital bed, seething, although she knows he is trying to behave honourably and she should probably be grateful, but she doesn't know what to do next. Almost as long as she has known him she has believed that Ben Solo was inside him, trying to get out, and that dogged belief has sustained her through all the stupid things he has done so far. Does she still want to be with him if Ben is lost for good? She isn't sure.