[ She has her answer and it somehow feels insufficient. Insufficient because she cannot understand, not properly. She has no legacy. No heritage. Not that she knows, anyway. Some part of her longs for it, wonders if she could latch onto Luke Skywalker and be like that herself — it's a nice fairytale. It's how the stories would go.

She surfaces after not too long because she can't hold her breath like that. Some of her hair has come loose and sticks to her face. She pushes it away and then loosens the rest from her buns, letting it cling to her neck instead. ]

I'm sorry you found out like that.

[ She drags these words out. It's clearly the part that bothers him most — not just the burden of legacy, but the lie. Only then, in the breaths that follow, does she realize that there is something … wrong in this narrow space with them. Something cloying. She draws towards him. ]

Ben. [ It's familiar. It's here. That thing. ] What if they're not hiding things from you? What if they're hiding things from it?

[ This disease, this enemy that has crept through the Force into their minds, taken advantage of the bridge that lies there. ]