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Rose has never been able to sense the Force like others she knows can, but she can feel it now. As she steps into the room, she it crackles through the air like invisible electricity, saturating Rey and everything she touches.
She's more powerful than she's ever been, and Rose can't help but tremble as her hero, her friend, the woman she loves – still all of those, despite everything – turns to face her. Rey is dressed in the same black tunic she's worn since she began experimenting with the dark side, and her new lightsaber is held casually in one hand, not yet illuminated, though Rose knows it's red glow.
Rey tilts her head, not the least bit concerned. “The Resistance sent you.” It isn't a question.
“I came on my own.” Rose's voice is as steady as she can make it. Poe and Finn and the others had wanted her to stay behind, but she had refused. Instead, she'd made them promise to let her go in first, to try and talk to Rey. She knows they don't expect to see her again.
“There's nothing you can do, Rose. I chose my path.”
“It's the wrong one.” Rose takes a trembling step forward. “This isn't what you wanted. You never wanted power. You never wanted to hurt anyone.”
“I'm only hurting the people who deserve it.”
Rose shakes her head slowly, grateful the fallen Jedi hasn't activated her lightsaber yet. She knows she could die so easily here. “Then why did we have to come after you? Your definition of the people who deserve it-” She cuts herself off. “Rey, you can't be judge, jury, and executioner. This isn't who you are. If you'd just take a moment to think-”
“You're afraid of me,” Rey says, cold now. “Just like everyone else.”
“No.” But Rose's voice is small. Rey would know it for a lie, even before. “I don't want to be,” Rose amends. “I still love you.” The words come out in a whisper.
Rey blinks, the barest flicker in her composure, gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Then help me. Don't try to stop me.”
“You know I can't do that. I don't want anyone to have to hurt you.”
Rey's eyes go flinty as her hand snaps up. Rose tries to gasp as she's frozen in place, but her throat is as still as the rest of her.
Don't do this, Rey. Rose thinks the words as hard as she can, fighting down panic as she shouts silently. Please. Don't do this. She means don't kill her. She means don't change. She means don't turn away for good. She means come back to me.
Rey's hand remains in the air, her power holding Rose fast but having no further effect. Rose manages a shallow breath, then another. She finds her voice, hoarse and quiet, and forces it out. “I still love you, Rey. I understand. You want to help so badly, and this seemed to be the only way that would work.” She heaves in another breath. “It isn't. Let me help you.” She means let me save you.
“What can you offer me that this power can't?” By all rights, it should be a challenge, but it comes out sounding like a real question. Rey looks angry at herself for asking.
Rose latches on. “The other Skywalker trainees. You always said you were more powerful together. You said the new order was going to change everything. I believed you.”
Rey's Force grip falters, and Rose sinks to her knees, panting.
“I've come too far to go back.”
“Never.” Rose meets her eyes fiercely. “You're still alive; there's still hope.” She takes a breath, knowing the next words might be her end. “You could never kill me. That would mean you were truly irredeemable. You love me, too.”
Rey grits her teeth. “The Jedi thought love was weakness. They were wrong.”
“They were. You know better. You know the way of the Resistance and the Skywalkers is better. You know you can have a second chance. With them. With me. Please, Rey.”
When Rey doesn't move or speak, Rose goes on. “What you're doing isn't love. It's control. It's death. Remember what I told you? We can't win by fighting what we hate. Only by saving what we love. You're not saving anyone like this. And you're destroying yourself. Do you know how much it hurts to watch that happen?”
Rose flinches at the loud clunk as Rey's lightsaber hits the ground. “Keep talking.” Her voice is ragged.
“I still love you. I'm here to save you. I could never stop, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't realize when you need to be stopped. Don't make me help them stop you any other way. Come back with me. You can be one of us again.”
Rey takes a step forward, then another. The crackling energy in the room seems to dwindle as she stands before Rose, looking down. She still has power, but it's not the same. “I don't know how.”
Rose reaches up. “I'll help you.”
Rey's knees hit the red tiles with a sharp sound, and she meets Rose's eyes, that terrifying yellow gone, replaced by teary brown. “I don't know how,” she repeats. Her hands raise, trembling, a helpless gesture. “I'm scared.”
Rose lays her own hands atop the Jedi's, because she isn't scared anymore. This is the real Rey. Her Rey. It isn't a trick or a ploy or a power move. This is simply a young woman, suddenly realizing what she's done and what she might yet have, wanting to come home but not knowing how to make things right.
“I'll help you,” Rose whispers. “I promise.”
Tears pour down Rey's cheeks as she presses her forehead against Rose's. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tired – I tried so hard. I wanted to make things right.”
“I know you did.” Rose wraps her in her arms, holding her tight, as if she can keep the darkness at bay by sheer force of will. Maybe she can. “And I know you can do right now. We're going home, okay?”
Rey nods, damp face against her shoulder. She's still trembling as Rose climbs awkwardly to her feet and guides Rey up beside her. Rose tries a smile, and it's weak with relief but there. “I'm not going to ask if you're ready, because I know the answer. But I won't leave your side, okay? Finn and Poe and all the others are waiting, and we're going to make this right.”
Rey lets out a deep, slow breath and nods. She's deflated now, all that dark power gone, but she seems more at peace than Rose has ever seen her. Rose reaches out, and Rey takes her hand, following her out the door, leaving the red lightsaber behind without another thought.