Even holding her, it's hard to believe. It had been the same with Eleven, her skinny arms wrapped around his waist, he'd been unable to believe she was really there with him. But she's here, she's still here, and now Joyce is, too.

"Holy shit," he says for what feels like the tenth time, taking Joyce by the shoulders and pushing her away gently, holding her at a distance so he can properly look like her. "You're dressed like your son."