Quinn took a deep breath of the lake air. It was far away now, but still so hauntingly familiar, and a part of her knew that if she wasn't so disconnected from everything in these dreams she would be crushed under the weight of her own sorrow.

But she [i]was[/i] disconnected. So instead, she walked up to the railing next to [color=black]Quinnlash,[/color] picked up a fishing pole, and cast it into the lake herself, watching the blunted replacement for a hook zipping out of sight before it plonked into the water. She was silent then, gazing out in the predawn light at the cliffs where once stood a white house.

In the distance she could hear Safie's voice along with Dahlia's, and it cut into her heart even here. There was a quiet certainty in her that no matter how much time passed, that wound would never scab, never heal. She'd never even gotten to say goodbye.

"[color=ffe63d]No,[/color]" she said simply after some time, "[color=ffe63d]I didn't.[/color]" 

She shook her head. "[color=ffe63d]You said before that she wasn't broken, just bad.[/color]" For the first time since she'd sat at the railing, she looked back at [color=black]Quinnlash,[/color] eye filled with genuine curiosity. "[color=ffe63d]But you saw her in that cell, right? She's not a taker.[/color]" The thing that might have once been a hook tugged, the bait that hadn't been there before drawing a fish that swam happily away. "[color=ffe63d]She's had everything taken [i]from[/i] her.[/color]"

Another deep breath. "[color=ffe63d]Every time I think about it, I'm more sure that we the right thing.[/color]" She unconsciously brushed her fingers, featherlike, across the top of her head where Besca's chin had sat during their embrace. "[color=ffe63d]And they think so too. That counts for something, right?[/color]"