Kylo Ren asks Rey to show him his mother's resting place on Dagobah through the Force bond.
Rey realizes he is the captive of his own position.
"Take it", he throws a Bacta patch her way.
She looks genuinely perplexed.
"Why?"
"Your shoulder… your wound".
Her eyes harden.
"It's healed", she retorts and turns her attention from him to history book she's reading, covering the history of the Old Republic and probably some parts of his genealogy too.
"I have to see it", he persists.
What?
"Her resting place", he continues with an accusatory tone. "I need to see where you've buried her".
She is startled. Why? Why do you need my help? Go there by yourself. You're the Supreme Leader now. All the gates are open to you.
No, he says. I need to see it.
Ah – that's the thing. He's too far gone. The Light blinds him, hurts him. He needs a guide. And he is a prisoner of his position – he can't just storm off to Dagobah whenever he sees fit.
But she doesn't gloat over it. She thinks about Padme's words, she remembers her immense sadness and the imminence of loss. He is not coming back. Anakin is not coming back.
He is too far gone.
She turns to him, sitting at her oversized desk covered with data-pads and history books. She left the Jedi texts with the Resistance for safe-keeping: clever girl. Anyway, there is nothing in those books that she already doesn't possess.
She is now deeply skeptical of him ever turning: but the vision she had was so powerful and felt so true that she had trouble believing it was all just Snoke's mind trick.
She can't deny him this rare human demand.
"May I?" he clears his throat as he reaches out with his gloved hand to her.
She shakes her head.
Take them off.
It is his turn to be startled. But he complies. There is something in her that makes her hard to resist.
He peels the glove slowly, tensing as if he expected he'll tear his skin along with it.
He reaches again, this time even more slowly. Again, she feels so real, and so present. Her warm skin radiates not just mere thermal energy, but so much more: the compassion, the light, the hope and strength. Every single bundle of nerve in him goes roaring with vibrant and pure energy.
Rey is again perplexed by how easily this comes to them and how naturally it feels. The darkness is subdued – perhaps it's just its cunning tactics, but for a brief moment, she doesn't care. She feels self-assure and strong.
And he feels – he feels – he feels like Ben, like his old self again. The image is so clear and so beautiful that it almost makes her cry. She knows he can sense it too, but he doesn't recoil. He doesn't stalk off. He is steady, even if slightly timid.
Show me.
She leads him to the past memories, to Dagobah. She leads him by his hand and leaves him at his mother's pyre, not daring to look at his expression. Let him have it. Perhaps – perhaps – he'll turn. He'll turn to her with a silent supplication. All he needs is to say the words, and she'll turn this whole depressive, decadent city upside down.
Steal a ship. Steal the sabers.
Run away with him. Leave everything behind. Hide him until he's steadfast and healed. Until Council accepts it all. Then fight with him on her side until the First Order finally falls down.
The fantasy is so alluring to her that she dwells on it for much longer and goes in much deeper than she intended. The bipartite ring on her hand whispers and glistens. It feels warm and reassuring.
You'd do that with me?
She snaps out of her daydreaming. Was she so loud and so conspicuous?
But she replies with no hesitation and no after-thought.
Yes.
He is now standing in front of the make-shift shrine built for his mother's ashes. His back faces Rey – he's cloaked in anguish and regret. But he wants his answer.
Why did you refuse me before then?
I'm no murderer, she replies truly and openly. You can't kill the past. You can only make peace with it.
He shudders with rage – old Kylo Ren's mindless fit of rage it is.
Spoken like a true Jedi, he snaps at her.
The bond is broken. She is sitting behind her desk still. He punches the intercom and storms off from her quarters.