AN: Thank you to Bo & Bunny for helping me edit this chapter.

Drowning.

She could feel herself drowning once more and gasping, constantly gasping for air before there would be nothing. There would only be darkness. Except this, this felt different. It was not water coming into her lungs and burning away…

Eyes flickered despite being closed, her hands gripped the blankets that were on top of her before jarringly, she forces herself to sit up, letting her eyes shoot open. She felt like she was dying all over again, repeatedly.

Except this wasn't her death.

"Is something wrong?" A voice, familiar to her for over two years now echoed as Booker finally stirred, waking up just after she did. He had been disturbed by her movements from the other side of the room.

"Quynh?"

The rattle sound that comes from her chest startles her, at first, she thought it had come from the one who was her companion. Booker had been her companion ever since she got out of the Iron Maiden to search for signs of them. Tears were streaming down her face as she sees him slide off the other bed and walk towards her.

"What's wrong?"

"I—I don't know," it was quiet with her frowning as she went to wipe her tears away, only for him to clasp a handkerchief into her hand. "I think it was a dream," Quynh murmured as she tried to make sense of it.

"Was it of—"

"No."

Booker fell quiet after her sharp answer.

She didn't want to see Andromache, nor did she want to see Nicky and Joe; as she said the timing had to be right. She needed to see through the cloud of red which stains her vision. Moments of clarity only washing over her rarely. Rage, insanity, pain, all of it was something she had to deal with before she could think of going near Andy or the others; though she and Booker managed to keep up with some of their exploits.

Copley was the reason.

"What do you remember?"

"I—someone was suffocating," Quynh whispered, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she watched him react, saw how his face crumpled and how his eyes lit with concern. "They couldn't breathe and it was like my – no, their body was on fire from the inside. Like they were trying so hard to take a breath, it was burning their lungs." She remembers the feeling, how her lungs ached and filled with water, how the air left her repeatedly, over and over for five hundred years.

"Maybe, it was just a nightmare." Booker couldn't think straight. He found himself at a loss for words as he opens his mouth, only to close it firmly. His hand ran through his hair as he got back up onto his feet, "I'll get us both a drink."

"Thank you."

A small thought popped into her head as he left the bedroom. It was only to push the thoughts out of her head, of the dream she felt was more real than a nightmare. Exhaling, as she waits for him to return from the kitchen, watching for movement as a light is turned on.

Quynh finds herself tapping her fingers against the oversized shirt she slept in, which she pulls over her knees as she adjusts herself to the end of the bed. She was still on edge. Something didn't feel right.

The whistle of a kettle finishing boiling makes her jump, cringing as she could hear sounds from the kitchen, heard the rustle of biscuits being opened. A soft smile graces her lips, thinking of chocolate biscuits. Her favourite.

She rolls her shoulders a little as Booker reappears, two steaming cups of tea in his hands, a plate of biscuits resting on his arm. "How is James?" The question startles him, nearly making him drop one cup.

"Uh, well – I have no idea, he's busy," he would have run a hand through his hair but he can't risk burning himself as he sets the tea and biscuits down. "Said he was helping Nile find some solo work."

"Solo mission?" Quynh scowls, as she thinks about it. "They've separated?" She thought it was a one-time thing. Nile and Andy had been together while Nicky and Joe went off somewhere but that had been months ago.

"They do that," Booker murmurs as he sits down, handing over her tea first before he grasps his own, taking a light sip as he watches her expression change; brows scrunching as she looks concerned. "I didn't ask about the others," he admits, trying not to wince as he saw her eyes narrow.

Sipping on tea and eating biscuits makes her relax a little. "What time is it?" a cautious gaze in her eyes as she looks over at Booker who runs a hand through his hair, "About four fifteen, I think. Or maybe it's close to five."

"We should try to sleep."

Quynh gets up to her feet, taking the cups and the plate into the kitchen, as she needs to do something before trying to sleep. A faint whisper under her breath, of a language long forgotten as she puts the items in the sink.

She reaches for the tap, twisting it on before running her hand underneath the warm water, noticing her hands don't shake as much. Washing the pots was simple to her, a small task with her rinsing out the cups before placing them on the drainer. She would let them dry and put them away later, as a yawn escapes her lips.

"Bed," she murmurs, hearing light snoring from the other room and lets out a snort, of course, he fell asleep. "Typical," Quynh says, as she dries her hands on the tea-towel first then moves, switching the light off as she goes back to the bedroom, leaving the door open.

Exhaling, she hopes she can sleep peacefully as she grabs at her blankets while flopping back down on the bed. Quynh curls up after adjusting herself, cuddling into a pillow as she shuts her eyes, slowly falling asleep...

Small, ragged gasps escape her throat, as she digs fingernails into her neck, clawing away at flesh. No, why, why was she suffocating? A gulp leaves dry lips, as she tries to calm herself, to let the air into her lungs and out.

Booker, can you not hear me dying?

A tear runs down her face as she scratches at her throat in her sleep, clawing away, as she could feel herself struggle to breathe again whilst tangling her limbs in the blankets, twisting and turning.

Why won't you help me?

"Please," Quynh whispers in the darkness. She feels so alone and afraid, struggling as her legs kicked out against the wall. Her lungs were on fire, as she wheezes, trying to take in another breath in.

I can't breathe.

"No."

Why can't I breathe?

A scream escapes someone when Quynh suddenly jerks upright. Panicking as her immediate thought goes to Booker across the room, only to see him standing near her bed, looking around as a gun was clutched tightly in his hand, searching for a threat.

"Are you okay?"

She wheezes once more. "Quynh, what's wrong? Why did you scream?" he was insistent, as he kept talking. She couldn't remember when the light got switched on as she blinks, wiping her face.

"I—," Confusion laces her tone for a second, as she blinks again as he frowns, concern etching across his face. Lowering the gun, he places it at the end of the bed, the safety on, to comfort her.

Oh, Booker. It's not me you should be worrying about.

The dream flashes before her eyes. A sob escapes her while arms wrap around her waist, leaning herself back into Booker, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed as he comforts her.

"I think..." She hesitates.

Quynh feels how sweaty her palms are, resting against Booker's arms, a tear running down her cheek before she tries to tell him what she had seen or more specifically, who she was seeing it through.

"I think Nile is dying."