"You and me both," Nick murmurs, combing some of the hair from Rey's face with his fingers, his golden eyes locked on hers. He has a brief flicker of memory of his own, something painfully saccharine from a time conjured by the gods, one where the world was a better place than either of them may ever live to truly see. For a moment, there is nothing else around them: no dilapidated store, no cave, no Null -- even Safronov's presence is so far out of mind that he doesn't consider what she'll think about all this, or how she'll use it to patch Rey's memories. Even if he did, he wouldn't care. He does what is necessary.

And right now, Rey needs comfort. She needs him. Safronov can figure out the rest.

"Let me do the fighting for both of us right now," Nick orders gently, the memory around them becoming clear once more as the flashes of his own abate. "Just stay with me. I can't do this alone."

He doesn't clarify what it is, exactly, that he can't do alone, but he doesn't need to -- the only person who matters to Nick in that moment knows, and that's what counts.