"I hated it," Rey admits, only because if she didn't, she'd be shouting or crying or asking things she's desperately afraid to ask, "not just because of the heat and the sand, but because of-of--of just how alone I was."

The Other Rey sits, remembering dark shadows, ever-present mists, harrowing training, and the feeling of fingers creeping into her mind to tear it at the seams, and whispers "I wish I had been."

Rey blinks and asks "lonely?"

"Alone."