Chapter Text
…
Silence was something Andy had never feared. Not between words. Not in battle. Though both felt oddly similar sometimes.
Silence with Quynh was different. Because with her, silence had been soft.
A glance. Wind in her hair. A smile. Sunlight on her skin. A touch, barely there. She had never feared it, she needed it. Silence with Quynh was her anchor, her air, the space between the beats of her heart.
When they had locked Quynh - her Quynh - in that casket, taking her from her, all softness had vanished from Andy’s life for centuries.
This silence, the absence of Quynh’s softness, those were Andy‘s darkest times. Darker than the countless centuries she’d walked this earth alone before she’d met her.
There wasn’t an inch of ocean she hadn’t sailed, not an amount of money she hadn’t spent, not one life she had hesitated to take - only to find her.
She had burned down kingdoms for the mere whisper of a rumor.
And yet, nothing.
The silence that came after, wasn’t one she had feared either. She had welcomed it with open arms, had died in it over a hundred times, over and over again, until she realized that this new silence was her own personal hell.
But now?
Now it was all different.
Because Quynh was here. Alive. Just out of reach.
And Andy couldn’t sleep.
She’d carried an injured Quynh all the way to the town, had stolen a car, had driven all night to get her a surgeon she trusted. She’d sat by her bed for fourteen long hours until Quynh had opened her eyes for a long minute before falling back asleep. Then, she’d picked her up again and brought her back to the only place she’d considered safe. All without words.
That had been three days ago.
Quynh had woken up a few times since then, but hadn’t said anything.
Andy had cleaned her wounds, had brought her medicine and food. She hadn’t left her side once, and as long as Quynh didn’t tell her to, she wouldn’t. Not ever.
She hadn’t met Quynh’s eyes once, but she could feel them on her constantly as if Quynh was trying to figure something out.
This silence was making her uncomfortable - it made her hands tremble in a way she didn’t recognize, and her heart beat against her ribcage like it wanted to flee.
But the shame she felt for breaking her promise, for giving up her search and therefore condemning Quynh to suffer god knows how many deaths in a never ending hell… She’d never forgive herself for that.
So she’d suffer the silence, and whatever would come next.
Andy exhaled, hoping that it’d ease some of the storm in her chest.
Quynh was up and wandered around, reading in some of Tuah’s notes.
Andy had been watching Quynh out of the corner of her eye, sitting unmoving on the cold stones of Tuah’s hideout for hours now.
Her thoughts were frayed. Too little sleep, too many emotions, too little ground beneath her feet to steady her. Too much of Quynh, so far out of reach.
Andy jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder.
Quynh stood beside her, holding out a glass of water.
She hadn’t noticed her stepping closer.
“Thank you,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from not using it for days. She took the glass but didn’t drink. Instead she twisted it in her hands.
Quynh nodded and after a moment, moved to sit down next to her. “You saved my life.”
“Of course I did.”
“You came back for me.”
Andy nodded.
“Why?”
She didn’t look at Quynh, she couldn’t. But she could say the truth, even if it changed nothing or meant nothing to Quynh. “Because I love you.”
She hadn’t said those words to anyone else - not in thousands of years. Not before Quynh, not after. And no matter how many years she’d live - thousands, hundreds or none - she wouldn’t say them to anyone else.
Quynh kept silent.
Andy kept staring at her glass of water.
For minutes or hours - time didn’t matter to Andy. But it did to Quynh now, didn’t it?
Andy would have to watch Quynh die, for real, for the last time - whether it was days from now as they rescued the others or in fifty years.
A sob tore through her lungs, and she dropped her glass, arms tightening across her chest as if it could shield her from the pain. She turned her head away from Quynh, buried her face in her inner elbow.
She didn’t want Quynh to see her tears, Andy didn’t deserve to cry.
But another sob rose in her throat before she could stop it, her whole body shaking.
Then, a hand landed on her shoulder blade, its touch featherlight at first before a palm stretched out, gently moving across her back until it pulled Andy by her shoulder, right into someone’s chest.
No. Not someone’s. Quynh’s.
Her first instinct was to pull away, out of shame and guilt, both of it edged so deeply into her heart that every beat of it physically hurt.
But her body wouldn’t let her. It loosened on its own, sinking into a warmth it could barely remember and yet recognized. Her hands unclenched. Her head turned into its place in the crook of Quynh’s neck.
Quynh’s hand came up, gently cradling her face. Her lips ghosted over Andy’s forehead, mumbling words in a language from a different time, so softly that they barely touched air.
But they touched Andy.
“Through time and death, love, I’m yours.”
…