Desmond was for real starting at a ghost. The ghost of someone who meant a lot of different things to him. If he was a better guy, maybe he would've stayed away from her here. When she spoke those words, all he could do was push out a sudden inappropriate laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "You stole my lines." It was what he was thinking exactly. She was a vision. He was still stuck in the Animus. She was dead. But Connor was long dead too. He let his eyes move over her face, struck by the vivid and horrific memory of staring into her eyes as he was forced step by step closer to her. He made the choice, in that last second, but he was dragged there first.

"I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating. I think this whole place is one. But if we're both hallucinating, one of us isn't real, or we're both real." It was a testament to how fucked up their life was that reality was so easily warped. If she was real, he let himself think, the question was from when. If she was injured, there was only one option. He wasn't stupid. He could play stupid and maybe he should. She was one hell of a liar but maybe if this was all real, the lies could stop. Dream on, Desmond.

He put out a hand toward her, palm up. He didn't come any closer, but it was a way for them to see if the other one was tangible. If she tried and went right through him, or he went through her, well, they'd know then, wouldn't they? He really and truly did not know yet which one he wanted it to be. "Lucy," he said again, quietly this time.