#quynh

The shock of recognition was so strong it felt like an actual physical sensation.

There she was, the one who'd been keeping him company, if you could call it that, for centuries now. In his dreams her face was always distorted and barely visible through the water and bars but it didn't change the fact he knew exactly who was standing in his kitchen.

"Quynh.." he mouthed the name, unable to get the actual word out.

She set the glass of water she'd helped herself too on the counter without a sound.

He hadn't even noticed she'd escaped, she'd still been dreaming about it, that underwater prison, they both had. Sure, he had dreamt of her walking around now and then but he'd had dreams like that before. Her image was seared into his mind's eye, he'd seen her, brief as it might have been, in Joe's drawings, Andy's dreams, in Nicky's stories, she haunted him.

"How...." He trailed off, he couldn't help but wonder if this too was a dream.

"Fishermen," she paused to clear her throat, "fishermen pulled me out, and here I am." She said it like there was a small part of her that still didn't believe it, like if she thought about it too much, or said it too often, it might not be real.

They stared at each other. Longer than would have been comfortable for most, but when you stared at a person you've known without knowing for as long as they had, it felt like the only response that made any sense. Both of them had the same fear that if they blinked they might wake up, and they'd both go back to that nightmare.

At last Booker realized he still had his gun more or less pointed at her, he lowered it, breaking the stillness blanketing the room.

"It's over," he said it softly, not even really a whisper, like a prayer.

An indescribable emotion flashed across Quynh's face, "it's over."

Booker ran his hand through his hair, tossing the gun on the table and slumped to the floor, his back pressed against the wall, and he laughed. He laughed till tears were brimming from his eyes, and his face reddened, he didn't know when the last time was he'd laughed like that.

Quynh couldn't help herself, she laughed too, joining him on the floor she laughed herself to tears, until a single shuddering sob racked her body.

They both fell quiet, staring at nothing in that dingy kitchen, Quynh was shaking, feeling both dizzy from relief and nauseous from remembering. She still wasn't used to the feeling of being alive yet. She drank in the feeling, every drop of it, she accepted them all, the physical, the emotional, the good, the bad, the ugly feelings she'd never thought she'd have again and she relished every sensation, every single moment of it.

She couldn't believe she was free and sitting next to someone she'd only dreamt of.

If she was honest with herself she didn't think this day would ever come. She remembered all the times she'd felt him die and the paralyzing terror she'd experienced at the idea of being left completely and utterly alone once more. That had been one of her biggest fears, having that beacon of light to the outside world put out. It had been the only thing that kept her sane while also driving her crazy with how much it made her want to live. She'd been so relieved when he'd showed up in her dreams she didn't know what she would have done without him.

Booker thought he heard her mumble something but it didn't sound like it was meant for him.

It was like nothing felt real, when you lived with a spectre for as long as he had, who could tell you whether it was a hallucination or your reality? How could you even wrap your head around it?

He had the strongest impulse to reach out and touch her just to make sure she was flesh and bone, but something stopped him.

A thought occurred to him.

"Have you..." he glanced at her from the corner of his eye to find her already staring at him.

"I haven't spoken to...seen... her."

"You know she would... want to. See you I mean. They all would."

Quynh said nothing, staring through him at nothing, she lost herself to her thoughts.

Booker couldn't help but think of all the times he'd wished she wasn't in his head, couldn't count the times he'd grappled with wishing she could die and escape that hell, and wishing she'd survive for Andy's sake. He'd always wondered if Quynh had picked up on any of those thoughts.

Booker continued to stare at her out of the corner of his eye, she didn't seem to notice. He thought about the stories that had been shared about her. Her zest for life they spoke of always made her seem like a ghost to him, he never managed to integrate one version with the other, and now here was a completely new version of her that didn't seem to mesh with anything he knew. She was so familiar yet a glaring stranger.

He wanted a drink. He was too sober for this.

After a long time, or maybe it just felt that way, Quynh said, "enough," she stood up abruptly, brushing off her coat, "it's nice to finally meet you," she searched his face, for what he wasn't sure, "I'll see you again."

Booker slowly nodded his head.

He went to say something but didn't have words. It didn't matter, Quynh disappeared out the door, he could hear her boots clacking across the old wooden floor.

He stayed like that for a long time, the only proof he had she'd even been there was a glass on his counter and her words ringing in his ears.