“Rey,” he whispers,
She stands on the precipice, looking over the peaceful ocean of Ahch-to. She drops to her knees and screams. The sound rips itself out of her throat, almost against her will.
“Go. I'll catch up when I'm done.” She hears the lie in his voice,
She's held it inside for so long. During the mission she never hesitated, on the Millennium Falcon back to Coruscant she'd been nothing but professional with the others. She knew that they felt it too, but, as much as she loves them, they wouldn't have understood what this felt like.
She turns and runs deeper into the complex; she hears the sounds of dozens of Stormtroopers clanking their way down the hallway behind her.
The water drinks her rage. It sits serene, its only motion the gentle lapping of waves at the base of the cliff. It reflects the wisps of clouds as they drift across the sky.
She's on her way back when she feels it. That the world has ended.
The tears flow freely, dragged out of her and dripping off the tip of her nose to make the long trip down to the sea below. They fall freely; their paths only slightly disrupted by the mild winds that seem to endlessly roll across Ahch-to's surface.
It's only once she's back on the Falcon that she sees the message on her commlink.
Eventually the screaming stops. It has to, she's emptied herself. She thinks that this must be what Master Skywalker had warned her of. About how sometimes it might be best for the Jedi to stand apart from the rest of the galaxy.
She plays the message. The sounds of battle play out behind his strained voice.
Her throat is raw from screaming, and her eyes burn. She's only able to hoarsely whisper now, but even that much seems too much like an admission. Too much like believing that it's real.
“I love-” the message stops with the sickening sound of a blaster bolt
“I know.” She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to hold the tears in, “I know, Finn. I know.”