The Bust of Geralt Liz/Book faggotry

The Bust of Geralt shorts.

 

Booker Noir, a collection of stories of Elizabeth and Booker solving crimes, can now be found here : http://pastebin.com/VnUeSLm4

 

Booker and Daisy, a series that takes place in the Vox world that is visted in game. Be ready for Les Miserables. It can be found here: http://pastebin.com/uaFAne9y

 

Another Side of the Coin, a story line of an alternate Booker and Elizabeth from the shorts here, and what might happen to them if they decided to run away from the baptism together. It can be found here: http://pastebin.com/RN1aDVj7

 

Rapture Noir, In anticipation of the new DLC "Burial at Sea' a story line about Booker in Rapture and how he meets a girl name Elizabeth, and what happens when memories and ADAM mix. Contains stories from other authors. It can be found here: http://pastebin.com/TTXU9ENp

 

Booker and Elizabeth Experimentation, a collection of small scenes where in Booker and Elizabeth try to spice up their lives a bit. Hopefully cute, http://pastebin.com/4RjuEF7u

 

----

 

OH OH, MISTER DEWITT

 

>Elizabeth stood by the window, a light breeze caressing her hair, tumbling it behind her.

>Columbia always looked so peaceful in the night.

>Her door opens behind her.

"Ah, apologies, I seem to have gotten lost"

>She turned to see a dark haired gentleman, with a roguish look about him. Tall, with a well defined jaw. A dark and dangerous shade to him.

"Oh, Mister DeWitt? It is alright, how can I help you?"

>He closed the door behind him

"Well, in truth, Elizabeth, I've been looking for you"

"You have? Whatever for?"

>The man came closer.

"I saw you from the balcony when the porter introduced me to your father. I must say my dear you are indeed quite the sight."

"You flatter me sir."

>He took the fingers in her left hand, giving her knuckles the briefest of kisses

"I assure you, nothing could be mere flattery when it comes to you, my dear"

>All poor Elizabeth could do was blush at such an advance

"I could not help but notice that my father did not tell me of your wife, good sir, where is she?"

"Alas, my dear, I am a widower"

"My goodness, I am so sorry, I did not mean to offend"

"None meant, and none taken my dear. It was long ago and... I find myself interested in other... engagements"

"Such as?"

>Mr. DeWitt, caressed her shoulder, down to her arm.

"You my dear"

>Elizabeth was shocked! She pulled away from the handsome man. Blushing at such attention.

"Mister DeWitt, that is far to forward of you!"

>He advanced upon her

"Your father, is the largest landholder in all of Columbia my dear. I can only surmise that you have so few suitors because few men are as... forward as one must be for the Comstock family"

>Elizabeth could not deny that he was right. So few men had come calling for her, and those that did withered beneath her fathers steely gaze. She had never met a man as strong and firm as Mister DeWitt.

>again he took her hand, firm, but gently, pulling her closer.

"Mister DeWitt, it is most improper for a man and woman to be alone in her boudoir"

>He kissed her hand again

"If you wish me to leave, simply say so."

>another kiss, her wrist this time.

>Elizabeth again tried to retreat from the rogue, but soon found herself against the wall. Soon, Booker DeWitt was before her again. She could nearly see herself in his eyes.

>such pretty eyes, she thought

"M-mister DeWitt, I... I must say that y-your attention is truly-"

>the man smirked at her

"You must simply say the word, my dear"

>Elizabeth stared at the man. His rough look, strong bearing, a stern face that hid a life of excitement she could only dream of.

"But what if my father were to find us?"

"Your father is downstairs, entertaining his guests, my dear. We have plenty of time, my sweet"

>Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, lips quivering in anticipation

"... yes."

>Booker was upon her, drawing her into a kiss, the likes of which she had only read about.

>Her hands wrapped around his strong back, pulling him closer. She felt giddy, fluttering in the wind from the window. She never wanted it to end.

>When DeWitt pulled away, it was to plant more kisses long the nape of her neck, soft as feathers at first.

>Soon Elizabeth could not take anymore, and pulled off her courtier's waist coat. At that, DeWitt graced her with another sly smirk, and again attacked her neck with kisses.

>She felt him beginning to unbutton her blouse, her suitor kissing down her neck to her collar, her shoulder.

>With her shirt on the floor, the wind from the window seemed colder, already she felt goose pimples along her skin. If only made the warmth of the man with her more intoxicating.

>She took his cheeks in her hands, kissing him again, the Parisian way.

>His large, strong hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer. She nearly gasped at the force.

"M-Mister DeWitt-"

>He looked at her again. She could get lost in his eyes

"Call me Booker."

>His hands swept up her back, she could feel him undoing the ties on her corset.

"Booker..."

>As her bodice came looser, DeWitt kissed her lower and lower. Until finally, he pulled the undergarment away all together.

>He looked her in the eyes, and gave her a smile that made her feel like a lamb, like a queen.

"Elizabeth"

>She shuddered

"Elizabeth"

"Mister... Booker... please"

"ELIZABETH!"

>She awoke with a start, jolting up from the arm chair she was resting in.

"A-Ah! W-what?"

>Booker was before her, his face dirty, clothing ragged, and disordered as if he had been in a brawl or...

>She shook her head, fighting the urge to blush.

"Sorry, but we've got to go. Guards are starting to patrol closer, and we don't have enough to last in a gun fight."

"Right, I'm... uh, I'm ready"

>They made their way out the back of the small townhouse that they had stayed in, Booker leading the way.

"At least you got some rest, sounded like you had a nice dream. What was it about?"

>Elizabeth was thankful for the cloudy night at the very least.

 

----

 

IF ONLY THE WRITING IN THOSE BOOKS WAS BETTER

 

>Booker, peeked through the open door. The furniture shop was deserted. It was starting to be a common sight, given the festival and the tower accidents, but it always paid to make sure there was no one to sneak up on them.

>He swept in, his shotgun at the ready.

"Okay Elizabeth, search for anything that could help us. Anything at all"

"Sure thing Booker"

>The place was larger then most of the other stores they had passed by. After a while Booker was able to break open the register, nabbing several eagles for his troubles.

"AAAAAIIIIIIEEE!"

>Instinct taking over, the ex-Pinkerton ran, as low as he could, down the counter and around the corner to were Elizabeth had gone.

>He found her, bobbing up and down in front of a sofa.

"What is it? What's wrong!?"

"Booker Booker! Do you know what this is?"

>confused, he lowered his weapon

"A..uhh... chair?"

"It's a méridienne! Oh I've always wanted to try this!"

>With DeWitt looking on, Elizabeth sat down on lounging chair, swinging her legs on top of it, and leaned against the head rest.

"How do I look?"

"Uhm...Elizabeth... what are you doing?"

"I'm languishing!... hmm, maybe I'm not doing it right, how do they do it in the books?..."

>She pulled her skirt slightly, exposing her calf and draping the fabric over the front of the chair. She placed the back of her hand against her forehead, leaning it back, and sighed exaggeratedly.

>Booker with a wonderful view of the girl curves, shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Er..we should go, Elizabeth..."

 

----

 

WHERE WE'RE GOING WE DON'T NEED NO LEWD

 

>Panting, Booker can't seem to catch his breath

"Elizabeth...p-please... you've got to slow down... I-I can't..."

>Elizabeth, similarly out of breath, seems to be panting more out of excitement

"Oh B-Booker, please... I know you c-can do it!"

"Its the... the fifth time... today, Elizabeth!"

"Just a...ah.. a little longer!"

"I won't be- be able to w-walk for a week... as it is!"

>[spoiler]Elizabeth walked out onto the balcony, looking down at the wondrous view of Paris.[/spoiler]

>Panting, her chest rising and falling

"I... I could do this over and over and never get tie-tired of it, Booker?

>Booker would forever regret taking her to Paris.

 

----

 

POSSESSION

 

>It was an intense fire fight.

>Around them Columbia’s  police force laid in bloody heaps, ragged scraps of burning meat decorating the tiled floor.

 “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this, Booker. The guns, the killing, much less those vigors of yours”

“Says the girl who opens up windows in thin air?”

“Point taken”

“Come on, we’ve got to find those tools. Time’s pressing, and I mean to get that airship”

>The rookie hid behind a desk. Those two had just barged in, and killed everyone. EVERYONE.

>Oh God, what am I going to do? I… I’ve got to try and stop them! Founders protect me…

“STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!”

>Elizabeth gasped. Booker turned. A bullet hits him in the shoulder. He brings up his hand, and in a green flash it’s over.

“It's okay, Elizabeth. It’s over; this fine officer will escort us to our destination, won’t you?”

>The rookie cop walked out from her hiding place. Suddenly the man who looked so dangerous before now looked… well still dangerous, but in a much better way.

“Y-yes, sir…”

>Booker gripped his shoulder, the bullet had only grazed him, but it still hurt like hell.

“Elizabeth, think you could find something to patch me up?

“Sure thing let me see what I can find”

>Despite just being in a fire fight, the girl just skipped away. Booker couldn’t imagine being so upbeat all the time

“So, officer, what would be the best way to get around this place? I really don’t want to be shot at all day in here”

>Golly, he certainly is dashing. She removed her helmet, letting her long blonde hair tumbled down.

“Well, handsome, civilians aren’t allowed in the department. With the recent Vox accidents, we’ve been ordered to detain anyone coming close. If you want to get further in, you’ll need a disguise.

“Any chance you might know where we could get some proper ones that ain’t… well, full of holes. Or on fire?”

“Well, mine seems fine enough… handsome”

>Booker backed up as the police woman came closer, taking off her jacket, and unbuttoning her uniform

“That’s er..Mighty kind of you but-”

>She backed him against a wall

“Oh hush, let’s just leave your daughter here, we’ve got some spare cots in an office...”

>She began kissing his neck

“BOOKER!”

>He turned to see Elizabeth, bandages in her hands. Eyes full of hate, and a face that would make a tomato jealous.

“Elizabeth! It’s not-“

>She threw the bandages at him, and stormed off

“Elizabeth!”

>The nerve of the man! She goes off to find him help, to save his LIFE! And she comes back to him in the arms of some… some… WOMAN!

>with a sigh she collapsed into a chair.

>She knew this would happen he never really saw her as any more than some girl. Why would some little girl interest a man like him, when there are women like that around?

>This would not stand. She drew herself up. She would have to do something. First chance she got, she’d find a new dress. Yes, that’s it! Something that would really show off. She’d show Booker, she wasn’t some girl, she was a woman too! With needs dammit! Maybe something with a bit of a low neckli-

>BLAM!

She gasped again, crouched and went to the door. More guards were coming! Without Booker around they’d take her for sure!

“Elizabeth! I-It’s okay! Nothing’s happened.”

>She saw Booker come around the corner, he was covered in blood! She ran to him

“Oh God, Booker what happened?!”

“Well…turns out, this possession vigor, if it goes on too long the person kind of well…”

“Kind of what?”

“Wants some lead aspirin?”

“What? What does tha- oh… Oh!...”

>It was going to be an awkward day.

 

----

 

SWEET DREAMS MISTER BOOKER

 

“Okay, this looks like a good place. We can lay up here. Elizabeth?”

“Oh, coming!”

>The girl was distracted. Who wouldn’t be. The Vox’s revolution was in full swing. Fortunately, it seemed they had already swept through this area, already some of Columbia’s citizens were showing up, those smart enough to stay out of the way, anyway.

“Come on girl, it’s getting dark. We’ll need some rest if we want to get into Comstock House”

“Yeah I know”

>After she passed through the doorway, Booker closed the door, pushing a cabinet in front of it. No one would be getting in easily now. Of course no one would be getting out easily either.

>The home was abandoned. The Vox had torn it up something awful, chairs were over turned, and the sofa was shredded on one side. The stairs up had been broken down.  No way to get to higher ground.

>Elizabeth was sitting alone on the sofa, staring at the ground.

“It’s not your fault you know”

“What?”

“This whole mess. Fitzroy’s revolution. The moment they got it in their heads to put anyone against the wall, it would always have turned out like this.”

“But we helped them”

“We needed to. We needed that airship”

>In the silence that followed, all that could be heard was the muted sound of gunfire, a long way off.  Booker, sat down next to her.

“Look, what’s done is done. We can’t change it. These people, most of them brought it upon themselves. The best we can do now is get Comstock, and get out.”

>He placed his hand on her shoulder

“Get some rest, Elizabeth. I’ll keep an eye out”

 

>Elizabeth awoke with a start. She dreamed about a man, standing above her, telling her she’d always be safe. She couldn’t place who it was. Booker was at the other end of the sofa, head leaned over, his chest rising and falling softly.

“Booker?”

>No reaction.

>She wondered what he dreamed about. Was he always back in those battles? Or his Pinkerton days. Did those people he killed, did they come to him in the night, their faces covered in blood, like Fitzroy’s? Maybe he dreamed of his wife dying, or the child he never had. None of them seemed very good options.

>She inched closer to the man. With a snort, Booker shifted his head to face her. His eyes still closed. Still asleep. He couldn’t be at all comfortable on the ragged cushions, and resting his head on the hard wood of the sofa would give him an ache in the head in the morning.

>Cautiously she placed her hands on the sides of his face, and guided his head down to her lap, so he was facing up. That should feel better surly. Booker protected her this entire time, the least she could do was make him a little more comfortable while he slept.

>Maybe she could do more? She remembered a record Songbird gave her one day. A duet by a pair named Ella and Louis.

“Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper "I love you" Birds singing in the sycamore trees, dream a little dream of me”

>her voice was clear and soft, she just hoped she didn’t wake Booker. She fixed his hair.

“Say nighty-night and kiss me, Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me. Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger till dawn dear, Just saying this”

>she caressed his cheek. He hadn’t had a shave in a while. She rather liked him like that. Gruff and dangerous looking. But still kind, in his own way.

“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me”

>She leaned down and kissed his forehead. She smiled. She didn’t know if it helped him sleep, but it felt like it would.

 

>Booker smiled. The sun was shining, the wind was in the air. All in all, a very good day.

“Daddy, daddy! Look at that!”

>Booker chuckeld following the girls finger and seeing a mechanical bird slowly flapping it’s wings as it ‘flew’ around the carnival game’s stall. She tugged at his hand.

“Can I go play?”

“Of course Anna. Go on.”

>As his daughter ran over to the stall, Booker heard a giggle behind him.

“I told you it was a good idea to bring her here.”

>He turned to look at Elizabeth

“I can’t imagine her not going along with anything you say, she’s taken quite a shine to you.”

>She returned his smile.

“Oh I know, Mister DeWitt.”

>she snaked her arm around his and the two walked over to Anna. She was trying to throw a ring so it would land around the neck of a bottle.

>after her third try, and missing, she came back to her father, pouting.

“I couldn’t win!”

>Elizabeth crouched down

“Maybe I should give it a try, would you like that Anna?”

“I wanna the bird! Can you get it for me Lizzie?”

>Elizabeth smiled and brushed the girls hair from her eyes. Getting up she walked over to the stall, and got her rings.

>Anna grabbed her father’s hand, watching Elizabeth.

“You like Miss Elizabeth, don’t you, Anna?”

“Uh huh. Do you like her daddy?”

“She’s very nice.”

“Can see be my new mommy?”

>Taken aback, Booker chuckled, and messed with his daughter’s hair.

“I think that’s a little too big of a thought for someone with such a cute little head. Look, here she comes”

>Elizabeth game back, a large plush version of the mechanical bird in her arms. She handed it to the small girl, who squealed with delight. She ran around with it, pretending she was flying alongside her new friend. Elizabeth and Booker retired to a bench to watch.

>Soon Booker felt the need to break the silence.

“You know, I think Anna would like to see you m-”

“I do have good hearing you know”

“Ahh.. haha”

>Elizabeth gave the private detective a sly smile

“I don’t recall hearing you say ‘no’ you know”

>Booker smiled back, and leaned closer to the young woman in blue.

>A loud crash cased Elizabeth to stand up, sending Booker to the floor.

“Ugh..uh.. w-ha?  What was that?”

>Booker looked up; Elizabeth was above him, looking towards the cabinet covering the door.

“There are people out there, Booker!”

>Another crash, the door and cabinet jumped.

“We know you’re in there Booker! Give us the girl!”

>Pulling out his pistol, Booker flicked off the safety.

“Elizabeth, get behind something”

 

----

 

OH GOD WHY DO I KNOW HOW IT ALL ENDS

 

“No! No! Please. Don’t hurt him!”

>The songbird stopped. Stared at her

“I’m sorry! Take me back. Just, don’t hurt him. Take me back to my tower…”

“Elizabeth, wait!”

>Songbird, took hold of her, gently, cradling her like a baby. They abandoned the building and took to the air.

>She cried, curling against herself. Her friend, her jailor, her betrayer, carried her back to her tower.

>It took longer than she thought. Plenty of time to think.

>She wondered if she’d see him again. No, she shook her head. She would. He protected her.  He saved her. Yes he was going to sell her, but she knew, she KNEW, he’d never do that now. Booker would come.

>He had to.

>Soon enough Songbird landed, placing her on the ground.

>She looked up. Into the face of a man she’d come to hate. It was not her tower.

“Welcome home child.”

>It would be two days before she was let out of the room she was put in. They took her to a room, filled with machinery. Electricity flowing over glass, condensing in ways it shouldn’t be possible to.

>Comstock was there, along with a long chair.

“Sit child. I’d like you to answer some questions”

“Why should I?”

“Why did you give yourself up for him?”

>Elizabeth stared Comstock in the eyes. She would hate those eyes. Always and forever. No matter what Columbia she was in.

“[spoiler]I love him[/spoiler]”

 

----

 

ELIZABETH THE AMOROUS DRUNK

 

>Elizabeth fiddled with the lock, it wasn’t so hard, but she was taking longer than she had to.

>she had a reason to. She looked out the corner of her eye. Booker was looking over at her, and not in a “making sure she was okay” kind of way

>He was staring.

>It had been days since the Songbird had trashed the Lady. Ever since then she had kept peeking glimpses of Booker looking at her. At first she wasn’t sure, but now it was starting to become a bit of a game for her.

>Even then it took her some time to realize it was because of her clothes.

 “Got it, Booker”

>She flung the bent pick away, and pushed over the door, just as Booker game over, shotgun ready.

>The inside was a very well furnished building. Perfume filled the air. Like the Vox banners outside it was filled with lush reds. Feather filled pillows and cushions covered every bit of furniture, some of them in the shape of great big hearts.

>Booker looked around. For one of the very few times he appeared, concerned.

“Okay let’s get going…”

“Wait, Booker, this place is amazing. Let’s look around”

“Elizabeth, this really isn’t the kind of place for…”

>The girl looked around, poking through everything left behind by whoever occupied the place before. Booker reluctantly followed, all the time urging that they leave.

>Elizabeth opened the first door she found. It was locked. She smiled to herself, bent over and got to work.

“I’ll take care of this, Booker, you keep watch”

>She held back the giggle at the implication.

>It was a depressingly simple lock.

>She pushed the door open and saw more than she ever expected.

>It was a bedroom, along the wall were shelves holding bottles, bottles upon bottles. Liquor Elizabeth guessed. A small fire place, loveseat, table and chairs filled it out.

>But what held her attention was the bed, and what was above it. A painting of a woman, reclining (No, languishing, Elizabeth corrected herself) in the nude.

“W-why would, they… they leave this place…”

“Even revolutionaries need some fun, after the fight”

>Booker didn’t like this. He tried to tell Elizabeth they shouldn’t stay here, but she was having none of it. At least there were plenty of beds, there’d be no having to sleep on a couch tonight at least.

>First she starts walking around half naked, and now she wants to sleep in a whore house? This whole Fitzroy thing has messed with that girl's head.

>It certainly didn’t help that every damn room had pictures of women everywhere. And not just alone.

“If the girl had bad idea’s before, this place certainly isn’t going to help things along”

>She didn’t think he noticed but he did. She spent far longer on those locks then she used to, and ran ahead to check under desks, or behind cabinets. He was sure she even swayed from side to side once when doing it. Damn that girl.

>A thud and crash from outside got his attention. A tinkle of glass accompanied it.

“Booooooker”

>Oh not again…

“Booker I found a nice…mm... bottle.”

>He pushed the door open further, and there she was. Elizabeth had a bottle in her hand. Judging by the fact that she wasn’t asleep she couldn’t have had it long.

“Alright girl, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

>She wandered in, swaying slightly. When he tried to take the bottle she pulled it away

“s’mine”

>She sat down on the bed, and looked at the picture across from her. A painting of a woman, and a man, and another woman. She was silent for a while.

“Elizabeth, you really shouldn’t be drinking that stuff”

“Did you ever viz..visit a place like this?”

“What?”

>She smiled at him. It was unsettling to say the least. She took another swing from the bottle.

“Hey Elizabeth, go easy on that”

“Yer just mad 'cause you think I’m pretty!”

>She laughed and doubled over, falling off the bed.

“Hey!”

>Booker did his best to pick her up. Just as she got to her feet she pulled him over and onto the bed. Soon enough she was on top of him.

“Your m…m… upset cause you dunt want me to know”

“How many of those things have you drunk?”

>She looked at him as if she had never seen him before, then smiled again

“Three… three… Four!”

>I think I’ve rubbed off wrong on this girl. Well that’s the wrong train of thought

>Elizabeth wiggled her hips, as if she were getting comfortable. She giggled, biting her lip.

“Elizabeth please, you’re drunk, I’m old enough to be your father!”

>Elizabeth leaned down; from the smell of her breath her latest drink had raspberries in it. Booker tried to get up, but with surprising strength Elizabeth pushed him back down.

“But yernot”

>She lifted off her small jacket.

“I’ll sh-shoow you Mister DeWi- Booker.”

>She started pulling at his tie, pulling it off.

“Gonna show you what the pictures taught mehehe”

>she leaned in close to kiss him. Despite the situation, Booker didn’t feel he could do much that wouldn’t hurt the girl, besides, who said it would be such a bad thing to-

>Elizabeth’s forehead fell onto his, she was staring at him

“You’ve got pretty eyes Mister DeBooker”

>Then she closed her own and her head fell on his shoulder.

>It seemed like hours had passed, Booker lying in the bed, Elizabeth softly sleeping on top of him.  Every now and then she’d say something under her breath, and every time he tried to move it seemed like she tried to latch onto him.

>Ahh to hell with it, it’ll be an awkward morning, but I’ll deal with it then.

>There were worse ways to fall asleep.

 

----

 

MARRIED WITH BIOSHOCK

 

>Booker stared at himself in the mirror, fussing with his necktie

“And, you’re sure you’ll be fine with her?”

“I think I can handle one little girl”

>Elizabeth came into the room, and up behind him. Booker could barely see her in the mirror.

“Do you always have to be such a mess when you go to the police?”

“You know how they are, they dislike me enough already for solving their cases, can you imagine me being better dressed than them?”

>She shook her head and spun him around, fixing his necktie for him.

“Just don’t shoot anyone.”

“You know I don’t do that unless they shoot at me”

“And everywhere you go people seem to shoot at you.”

>She stood on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Be safe.”

>He smiled and opened the front door.

“And get a shave before you come home!”

 

----

 

A HYPOTHESIS ON INDULGENCE IS BORN

 

>The couple slept softly, Elizabeth clinging to Booker, Booker’s hand protectively about her waist

“Well that didn’t happen like I thought it would”

“That’s because you were drunk when you made the theory”

“I was not”

“Were not.”

“Will not. “

“Would you rather see what happens when Mister DeWitt is drunk?”

“No, I suppose that one would be even worse”

“What about both of them?”

“That may be amusing”

“Why is it that we never indulge in alcohol?”

“We have more important things to do”

“Like watching a man and a girl half his age sleep together?”

“Only try to sleep together”

“Point.”

“Can we even get drunk anymore?”

“Theoretically, yes. You have a hypothesis?”

“Yes, I do believe you’d be a terrible drunk”

 

----

 

TURNS OUT NEITHER OF THEM ARE GOOD AT BEING DRUNK

 

>Booker was rather amazed at just how many bars Columbia had. He was also amazed at just how much the Vox had left standing, bars, people’s homes the brother.

>He didn’t want to think about the brothel.

>The bar was empty, save for two patrons.

“Oh great, these two again”

“Are they following us?”

>The gentleman and lady turned, a bottle was between them

“We’ve already done that joke, thank you!”

“You could say that about a lot of things”

“Except for my experiments”

“I… I’ve already told you, they’re wrong”

“How can they be wrong, if we don’t… don’t do them?”

“Fine then, are you drunk?”

“I’m drinking”

“Am I drunk?”

“You’re making as much sense as always”

“That wasn’t funny”

“I thought it was”

“Well you will be thinking wr-wrong”

>The two stopped and stared at the bottle”

“Need another bottle…”

“I think you’ve had en…een… too much. But I need another drink”

>Elizabeth took a bottle down from the bar, and placed it on the counter

“It’s so nice to have someone around to help”

“I do my best you know”

“It’s your fault we’re in this place to begin with”

“The bar?”

“What bar?”

“Whose Idea was the tower, again?”

“I be-believe it was yours”

“I thought I hateded it”

“I thiienk you hated because it was my idea”

“I thought it was mine?”

“Exactly”

>Elizabeth looked at the two of them

“What tower? My tower?”

>The siblings looked back

“Who are you?”

“She gave us the bottle”

 “Is she our friend?”

“She gave us the bottle”

“Strictly speaking that doesn’t mean much. We are drunk”

“D-d-oes that mean I was right?”

“Did you say we couldn’t?”

“I think that was me”

“Then you’re right”

 

----

 

ROBERT IS YOUR FRIEND, MAYBE

 

“No no no, you’re doing it all wrong.”

“Wrong? I’m doing it exactly as you did.”

“Except wrong”

“Then how are you supposed to do it?”

“You’re bringing your foot down too early, and you’re not even keeping your eye on the ball”

“I’d like to remind you that we were never good at this”

“I was the star short stop-“

“In your school team, yes, yes, but now you’re a pitcher”

“If we don’t get this right it won’t work when they come by”

“Can’t we just be playing catch instead?”

“It is imperative that you hit the ball”

“Why is that?”

“If I tell you all about it now, you won’t be surprised when it happens”

“I won’t be surprised anyway, because we’ll already known what happens”

“That’s not the point”

“It’s a stupid point”

“I agreed to your dancing if we could do this”

“Alright alright, let’s try it again”

 

>The siblings danced, watching the gondola as it rattled past them.

“Do you really think it will work this time?”

“I see no reason why it shouldn’t”

“But it’s-“

“Just like all the other times?”

“Except you kept getting them drunk”

“But this time you hit the ball”

>While the nature of the twins may not be entirely explainable, the best way to grasp the nature of any phenomenon is to observe it. With that in mind let us think, instead, upon the ball.

>The baseball sailed through the air. At once, existing in every universe and at the same time none of them. Like a cat, this super positioning was constant until the ball itself is observed within its own environment.

>In another world, not so different from the previous one, the ball hit’s a window.

“Jesus, who’s throwing stuff?”

“It came from over there Mister DeWitt!”

>Booker and Elizabeth walked along the boardwalk to find a smashed window to an abandoned clothing store. A dress had fallen over, a black belted affair, with three quarter length sleeves, and a collar that gave way to a black and white patterned chest and white skirt.

“That dress is lovely Mister DeWitt; do you think we can buy it?”

“There’s no one around Elizabeth, who are you going to pay?”

“I’m sure we can just leave some money for them. Let’s go inside and I’ll try it on!”

“Alright, alright”

 

----

WHY WOULD YOU EVER PICK THE CAGE?

 

>The man reached into the crib, the small hand of the girl inside gripping his index finger.

“It just warms your heart, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say I ever had much of a maternal instinct”

“That was obvious.

>A lady and gentleman were standing on a building across from the home of the man and the baby. They were looking through a telescope.

“Do you think we’re violating any laws doing this?”

“Which ones?”

>The man was holding his daughter in his arms now, saying something

“I suppose you think this means you were right”

“Or my experiment didn’t fail the way you thought it would.”

“It already HAD failed”

“And now it HASN’T”

“Won’t”

“Excuse me?”

>The lady and gentleman turned towards the new speaker, a young woman in blue.

“We were beginning to wonder when the little bird might show up”

“Did you really do all of this?”

“I think you already know the answer to that”

“Can I… Can I see them?”

>The lady stepped aside, and the young woman looked through the glass.

“This doesn’t really change anything”

“That was something of the point”

“I mean do you really think he’ll do things differently?”

“He looks so… happy. They both do, together…”

>The lady and gentleman looked at each other

“I thought she was supposed to-“

“Hate him?”

>The woman in blue stood back up

“I’m tired of the two of you doing all of this”

>the gentleman was surprised

“I think we rather helped this time arou-“

“I mean with the not answering questions”

“I think we rather helped with that too”

“Listen! Just, who are you?”

“I’m Robert”

“I’m Rosalind”

>They both bowed

“Are you the same person? Like, me and her?”

>again the pair looked at each other

“Yes”

“No”

>the woman sighed

“You’re not being very helpful”

“You’re not being very smart”

>the gentleman came forward, and turned the young woman around to face the telescope and the man’s building again.

“It’s all a matter of perspective”

“A girl”

“A woman”

“A friend”

“A jailer”

“A cage”

“A scaffold”

>the woman shook her head

“Just what are the two of you?”

“You should really wonder what you are”

>After a long silence, the gentleman, packed the telescope into a plane case and got up.

“It seems to me, a man like DeWitt would be far too busy to stay home with a little girl. Perhaps you could find him a nanny?”

>Elizabeth turned around to find herself alone.

 

----

 

OF COURSE SHE LOVES THOSE KINDS OF BOOKS

 

>Elizabeth watched Booker as he kept watch by the window of the bookstore.

>Thank god the Vox had left it, she could use a good distraction from Booker, ever since the brothel she couldn’t stop staring at the man. It didn’t help that he refused to tell her what had happened.

>Walking along the shelves she found a number of books. Her hand lingered over a number of titles, “Matter and Light - The New Physics”, “Night Watch”, even a copy of “Les Miserables”

>Glancing back at Booker, she walked further on; the books she was looking for would be further in the back. It didn’t take long to find them, the first title that caught her attention “The Turkish Marquis's Sleep-Deprived Countess”.

>Decidedly not. She’d never admit it, but he loved these books. Every time she asked for books Songbird would invariable bring one of these. Another title piqued her interest.

“The Pirate's Winter?”

>She took it out and opened it. The story seemed to be about a pirate crewman who, falls in love with a woman when they capture her ship. Soon enough, the weariness of the day caught up with her, and the girl fell into a slumber.

>The lowly crew man scrubbed the decks. The captain had ordered him below decks after he had questioned their bearing. He hated this, but he needed to be on this ship, if he had any hope of paying off his debts.

>Without warning, the alarm went up, and soon the sound of cannon could be heard. Tossing away his deck brush, Booker ran for his cabin, his weaponry. He’d need it.

>By the time he was on deck, they were already upon them. Pirates! Pulling out his flintlock, Booker downed one of them just as they clambered on deck. The other crewmen were already in the melee, and Booker charged in to join them.

>At the center of it all was the pirate captain. A dashing woman all in blue and white, a corset about her, a small mechanical bird on her shoulder, and a great big hat. At her direction the crewmen of the ship were easily overrun, except for Booker.

>Surrounded, the pirate captain came forward.

“And just what do we have here? Some land lover that fancies himself a sailor?”

“Back you sea wench, you’ll not take our cargo while I can stand!”

>The captain smiled

“Aye, we came for your ships booty”

>She nodded and Booker felt a sharp jab at the back of his head

“But I may just settle for yours sailor boy”

>Booker came to in a well furnished cabin, drapery about the windows, a heavy table strewn with maps, food, and empty cups. A four post bed completed it, complete with large cushions and a plush duvet. Booker was on the bed. He also couldn’t help but notice he was tied to it. And naked.

“Ahh, you’re awake”

>Booker turned to see the captain standing in the other end of the room. Her hat was gone, and her long brown hair undone and falling across her shoulders, framing her corseted chest.

“What do you want, wench?”

“Ohh no, no that won’t do. If you’re to be a sailor under me, language like that just won’t do”

“I’ll never turn pirate!”

>The woman advanced on the bed, reaching behind her back, unlacing the corset. She wore a shark’s smile

“Who said anything about turning pirate?”

>Booker glanced at Elizabeth, sleeping in her chair. She was blushing and giggling to herself in her sleep.

“Just what the hell does that girl dream about?”

 

----

 

THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SEX HERE, BUT NOW IT'S GONE.

 

“Elizabeth, look at me. Elizabeth?”

>Elizabeth just stared, at the bloody shears, Fitzroy’s body, the blood. There was so much blood.

“Elizabeth, give me the scissors.”

>She looked up. Booker knew that look. Men got it after seeing a battlefield for the first time. The girl was scared. Of him, of Fitzroy, of herself. As Booker took a step forward, she turned and ran for the air ship.

“Dammit, Elizabeth, hold on!”

>Booker only saw the girl as he ran. There was no telling what she’d do in her state. He had to catch her. Passing over the threshold onto the airship, he snatched at her wrist, and held it tight.

“Don’t touch me!”

>Elizabeth whirled around, raking the tips of the shears into Bookers shoulder, ripping his waist coat, shirt, and skin.

“Dammit, Elizabeth. Stop!”

“Let go!”

>He knocked the scissors away, but the girl didn’t let up. She pounded and punched against his chest with her free hand. Grabbing her other hand he brought her to his chest and held her there. With no way to fend him off, Elizabeth began sobbing into Booker’s chest. Soon she couldn’t even stand anymore, forcing Booker to kneel down with her still in his arms.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay…”

“I..I killed her… I had…”

“Just breathe, Elizabeth.”

>Minutes turned like hours as she slowly stopped bawling into his shirt. When she had finished, Booker let her go. Her face, smudges with grease, sweat, tears and blood, was filled with a sad, almost vacant expression.

“Listen, Elizabeth, what you did…”

“I killed her”

>He was never good at this. Half those boys facing the field didn’t come back, and half of those that did never got over it.

“Yes, but you did it to help that boy”

>She just stared at blankly at his chest.

“Fitzroy… Whatever happened here… Fitzroy wasn’t going to stop with just that boy, Elizabeth. Before she was finished she was going to give a proper send off to anyone they might have thought was a founder, anyone that would say they should stop. The Vox don’t speak for the people anymore.”

>He took her shoulders and shook her softly

“I know what you’re thinking Elizabeth, and you’re wrong. I know a bastard when I see one, and you’re the furthest thing from it. You’re a good person Elizabeth. You’d try to save everyone if you could. But you can’t save everyone. Some people just don’t deserve it. Like Fitzroy, not after what she’s turned this into.”

“I… I got your shirt all bloody”

>Booker looked down and chuckled. His clothes were already covered with stains, but there were indeed some fresh ones where he had held the girl.

“Don’t worry about it.”

>Picking Elizabeth up, he took her to the cabin, and sat her on the bed. She could use some rest.

>Booker took in the controls to the airship. He needed to get Elizabeth out of here. Maybe to Paris, maybe New York, but any place was better than Columbia. The city was killing her, sucking away what made her, her.

>He punched in any coordinates, and set off.

 

----

 

THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SEX HERE, BUT NOW IT'S GONE. (Lewd Version)

 

“Elizabeth, look at me. Elizabeth?”

>Elizabeth just stared, at the bloody shears, Fitzroy’s body, the blood. There was so much blood.

“Elizabeth, give me the scissors.”

>She looked up. Booker knew that look. Men got it after seeing a battlefield for the first time. The girl was scared. Of him, of Fitzroy, of herself. As Booker took a step forward, she turned and ran for the air ship.

“Dammit, Elizabeth, hold on!”

>Booker only saw the girl as he ran. There was no telling what she’d do in her state. He had to catch her. Passing over the threshold onto the airship, he snatched at her wrist, and held it tight.

“Don’t touch me!”

>Elizabeth whirled around, raking the tips of the shears into Bookers shoulder, ripping his waist coat, shirt, and skin.

“Dammit, Elizabeth. Stop!”

“Let go!”

>He knocked the scissors away, but the girl didn’t let up. She pounded and punched against his chest with her free hand. Grabbing her other hand he brought her to his chest and held her there. With no way to fend him off, Elizabeth began sobbing into Booker’s chest. Soon she couldn’t even stand anymore, forcing Booker to kneel down with her still in his arms.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay…”

“I..I killed her… I had…”

“Just breathe, Elizabeth.”

>Minutes turned like hours as she slowly stopped bawling into his shirt. When she had finished, Booker let her go. Her face, smudges with grease, sweat, tears and blood, was filled with a sad, almost vacant expression.

“Listen, Elizabeth, what you did…”

“I killed her”

>He was never good at this. Half those boys facing the field didn’t come back, and half of those that did never got over it.

“Yes, but you did it to help that boy”

>She just stared at blankly at his chest.

“Fitzroy… Whatever happened here… Fitzroy wasn’t going to stop with just that boy, Elizabeth. Before she was finished she was going to give a proper send off to anyone they might have thought was a founder, anyone that would say they should stop. The Vox don’t speak for the people anymore.”

>He took her shoulders and shook her softly

“I know what you’re thinking Elizabeth, and you’re wrong. I know a bastard when I see one, and you’re the furthest thing from it. You’re a good person. You’d try to save everyone if you could. But you can’t save everyone, Elizabeth. Some people just, don’t deserve it. Like Fitzroy. Like me.”

>He lifted her up.

“C’mon on, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

>He brought her into the ships main cabin. A four post bed, dresser, armoire, even a seating area. Lady Comstock certainly flew in style. He sat her down on the bed, when he turned to leave, Elizabeth grabbed his hand. She didn’t even look up.

“What was it like… When you first did it?”

“Did what?”

“Killed someone”

“You don’t really want to hear that”

“Booker… Please”

>Sighing, Booker say down next to the girl. Running his hand through his hair, he looked down at the floor.

“He was… just some man. It was before Wounded Knee. A Lakota. He wasn’t even fighting. He was pulling a wounded man away. Shot him dead center, he didn’t get back up, didn’t even scream.”

>She still held his hand.

“Take whatever time you need, Elizabeth. I’ll help you anyway I can.”

>She looked over at him

“I… I got your shirt all bloody”

>Booker looked down and chuckled. His clothes were already covered with stains, but there were indeed some fresh ones where he had held the girl.

 “And I hurt you.”

>He glanced at his shoulder, there was already some blood soaking through his waistcoat.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“How do you forget? How can anyone forget?”

“You don’t, Elizabeth. The best I’ve ever found was a bottle and dice. And that is a road no one should go down”

>She squeezed his hand.

“I think you deserve it Booker”

>Surprised he looked up at her. She kissed him. Her lips here soft, if not for the slight taste of blood, he would have had a distinct memory of peaches. He pulled her away.

“Elizab-“

“I don’t want to remember, Booker…”

>She kissed him again. When he didn’t push her away again, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down on top of her, sprawled over the bed.

>Every time he tried to protest, the girl just kissed him again. The girl was stubborn, but Booker reasoned, feeling so dead inside, she had to do something to feel alive.

>She had already taken off his tie, and pistol harness, and was working on his shirt and vest. She was good at this.

>Booker pulled back. Through all of it, Elizabeth’s hair had come undone, and was splayed across the sheets. The girl looked… happy. Damn it. When in Columbia... Booker undid the buttons on his vest and shirt, pulling the garments off with his coat.

>Elizabeth ran her fingers down his chest. There were so many scars. Gashes, scrapes, cuts, even bullets. He’ll have more, she thought, before we leave. From protecting me… she felt his shoulder, already a small scab was forming where she had cut him.

“I’m so sorry, Booker…”

“I’ve had worse”

>She kissed him again, and soon felt the man’s fingers pulling at the buttons on her blouse. Soon enough it was off, and his hands slid down her sides, slowly to her hips, unclasping the buttons on her skirt.

>He pulled away her petticoat and skirt away, and after unlacing and removing her boots, Booker kissed her legs, moving up along them to her knees, until he came to her bloomers.

>Elizabeth reached behind her back, and started unlacing her corset as she watched Booker, slide the legs of her underclothes up, kissing her leg as he revealed more of it. She shuddered slightly, as Booker returned to her, kissing her lips softly before continuing down her neck as he added his own hands to her bodice’s lacing. When the garment was loose enough he pulled it over her head and off of her, eliciting a soft sigh from the girl.

With her bosom free, Booker couldn’t help but notice a blush from her face, along with a slight smile, which he returned. He kissed down her chest, kissing between her breasts, and down to her stomach. Her belly rolled with her breathing, and Booker smiled, pulling down on her undergarment.

>With her naked before him, Booker realized just how slight she was. Before she had so much energy she filled a room, but now she was just a girl. A young woman, waiting. She was beautiful

“Booker…”

>It was only then that Booker realized how much his hardness ached at him. >undoing his belt and removing his pants, he was above her again.

“Elizabeth”

“Please… ”

>She gave him another smile, sad, hopeful, expecting. She traced his jaw with her hand; he could feel the cold metal of the thimble on her pinky. He kissed her, and entered her. She gasped, her arms wrapped across his back, holding him close to her as he slowly thrust into her.

“B-Booker!”

 

>Booker sat on the edge of the bed, Elizabeth was sleeping beside him. Reaching back and brushed some of the hair from her eyes. She gave a soft sigh at the contact, but didn’t awake.

>You’ve made a mess of it now, DeWitt.

>He got dressed, and went to the door. Elizabeth could use the rest. Walking up to the console, Booker took in the controls to the airship. He needed to get Elizabeth out of here. Maybe to Paris, maybe New York, but any place was better than Columbia. The city was killing her, sucking away what made her, her.

>He punched in any coordinates, and set off.

>Had none of these people heard of an airplane? These damn zeppelins were great at going nowhere fast. It had been half an hour, and they’d barely made any progress through Columbia, Finks factory was behind them, but there was still a ways of the flying city to go through before they were anywhere near home free.

>The door opened behind him, and Elizabeth stepped out of the cabin. Her hair was shorne short, just to her neck Her old clothes were gone as well; she wore a blue skirt and jacket, and a corset underneath. Booker raised an eye brow. She blushed.

“This was… it was all I could find.”

“It looks fine”

>She had her neckerchief in her hands.

“Can I see your shoulder?”

>Booker peeled off his coat and rolled up his sleeve. His shoulder was still bleeding slightly. Elizabeth wrapped the cloth ribbon over it and around his arm. It wouldn’t do much but cover it, but Booker thanked her anyway.

>The girl looked out the side windows, in the distance; the remains of her tower could be seen.

“I guess I’m not that girl from the tower anymore…”

“She’s still there. Just now there’s some more of you in there. That’s not a bad thing, Elizabeth”

>She smiled, and Booker returned it. As he did, he could have sworn he heard some music floating through the air.

 

----

 

DADDY PROBLEMS

 

>The DeWitt family sat down to dinner. It was a celebration; Booker had just been paid for a big case. Time’s had been good. Booker had been getting a great many clients, enough to get a new radio, phonograph, and even a small ice box.

>He was currently reading the paper while the rest listened to the tail end of a radio play.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Anna?”

“What’s Oedipus Rex?”

>Booker’s eyes brows knitted and he looked over the newspaper at his daughter.

“Mommy said I should ask you”

>He looked over at Elizabeth. She sat there, with an innocent, expectant smile.

“ Er… Well… It’s a play. A Greek play. A tragedy.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a play with a sad ending”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s…  about a Greek king, and he…”

>Booker wasn’t very sure on how appropriate something like the play would be for a six year old girl.

“It’s about a Greek king, who falls in love, with his… uhm… Mother…”

>Anna’s brow mimicked her fathers, and she went silent for a while. It seemed brooding on thoughts ran in the family. Eventually the small girls face lit up.

“That’s so… Romantic!”

“What?”

“I want to marry you when I grow up Dad!”

>In a panic Booker glanced at Elizabeth. She was doing her best to not laugh.

“Can I momma?”

>Elizabeth hugged the girl.

“Of course dear, when you’re older.”

>She gave Booker the second most evil grin he had ever seen.

 

----

 

THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING ISN'T THERE MISTER BOOKER?

 

>Things were starting to get tiresome.

 

IN MY ARMS AS STRONG AS A TREE,

 

I SHALL LIFT YOU AND MAKE YOU FREE.

 

IGNORE THE BRIGAND OVER YONDER,

 

AND OF ME, I SHALL MAKE YOU FONDER.

 

“Elizabeth, can you shut that thing up? It’s going to get us both killed”

>The Patriot had been following them for near on an hour, ever since Elizabeth took a swig of a possession vigor. The girl turned to their follower.

“Listen, uh… do you have a name?”

 

I AM WASHINGTON, AS YOU CAN SEE,

 

AS NOBLE AS THE PROPHETS HOLY COUNTRY .

 

I WOULD WISH TO KNOW YOUR NAME,

 

SO THAT I MAY WRITE IT IN HOLY FLAME.

 

“Oh..it’s…Elizabeth…”

“Don’t tell it your name just tell it to put a sock in it!”

“Mister Washington, could you, maybe, stop shouting so much?”

 

I WILL DO ANYTHING YOU WISH,

 

LIKE A WATER POURED INTO A DISH,

 

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND,

 

ALL OF YOUR ENEMIES SHALL BE DAMNED!

 

----

 

LIGHTHOUSES AND SONGBIRDS

 

>Elizabeth waited with bated breath. The die flew, landing and spinning to a stop, a 5

“Your attack misses the mutant rat, and you are sent careening into a wall! Roll for a fortitude check”

>Booker with a grumbled rolled the die again. A 15.

“Thanks to your barbarian lifestyle, your collision with the wall has only made you even angrier!”

“Damn right I am”

>Elizabeth giggled

“The mutant rat, surprised by your shout of rage turns to face you once again”

>The gentleman slapped the table

“Then I shall cast a ball of fire upon the beast”

“You don’t want to do that”

>He turned to his sister

“And why not?”

“Trust me”

“No”

>He rolled. A 1

“Your spell backfires, setting fire to your wizard robes!”

“I told you”

“And what do you do, Thief?”

“I do nothing”

>Booker stood up.

“What? Why? You’ve done nothing for the past five battles!”

“I just don’t see much of a point, the creature is going to die anyway”

“The point is, we can kill it faster and be on our way, dear sister”

“I do nothing”

“Ugh, fine. How about the paladin?”

>The other Elizabeth stared at her character sheet

“I move to block the mutant rat from attacking our barbarian friend, and raise my shield”

>The DM smiled and giggled again, rolling her own dice. The smile faded.

“The… uh.. beast surges forward to attack the paladin, but trips and…”

>she rolled again

“Runs head first into your shield.”

>The other Elizabeth rolled for her own check. A 20

“And caves it’s own head in…”

“I told you. I check the rats corpse for anything of value.”

>Again the dice rolled

“You…oh Lord… You find an enchanted dagger that will only respond to your command. Its powers are a mystery to you, but no one else can touch it unless you hand it willingly to them”

“DAMMIT ROSALIND!”

“You must be quicker Mister DeWitt. Come along, we’ve got more dungeon to plunder.”

The group moved onward through the dungeon. The thief directing the party to the most lucrative treasures, until…

“A long unlit hallway stretches out before you. It’s only dissimilar features are lush trappings along the walls depicting the wealth of the hoarder deeper in” the dungeon master said, an innocent smile across her face.

“I’d like to take a look at those tapestries.” The mage walked forward, and just as he reached one of the murals, his boot sank slightly into the ground, one of the stones in the floor had dislodged and sunk into the ground.

“The trap sends dozens of arrows into the air! The whole party must roll!”The entire party rolls, thankfully only the wizard is struck. In his rear.

“Every time!” the mage turned to his sister, “Why do you not check for traps when we enter these places?”

“I thought that’s what you were here for” the man sighed.

“Well can you check now?” Booker eyed the woman, the only thing she ever seemed to do was just let everyone else do all the work.

“Very well. I check the rooms for traps” With the traps revealed to the thief, the group advanced at her direction, until their paladin, too, triggered something.

“Oh don’t worry, that one doesn’t seem to do anything, we’re almost to the door”

Through many struggles, the group eventually found themselves in the mighty throne room of Crom’Stoke hoarder king of the dungeon.

“With a mighty roar, the orc king taunts the group. Belittling their hats, armor, and that their daughter does very poorly in school, indeed!”

“That bastard!”

“The barbarian must roll a will check!”

Booker rolled his dice; a surprising twenty was his result.

“You do not rise to the kinds taunting, instead the jab at your daughter’s studies increases your attack for three turns.” The dungeon master was beaming. The Paladin cut in.

“I advance slowly, and attempt to tell the orc to lay down his arms and come peacefully”

The DM rolled again, “The king responds to your pleas with laughter, and charges you.”

“While he is distracted by our Paladin, I meet his charge from the side!” Declared Booker. He rolled his dice again. A 12.

“The orc king does not notice your attack, and is struck be the blow, he…” she rolls “Is knocked to the ground!”

“I step forward and cast binding on the orc king!” Dice are rolled. The attack does not backfire, nor does the king resist!”

“Oh wait, you stepped forward right?” Roberts smile left his face.

“Yes? Oh God why?”

“No reason…” Elizabeth again rolled her dice behind her screen, but said nothing to the players.

The players in turn attacked the orc king while he spat insults at them. Eventually the thief made a move.

“I leave the melee, and move to check the surroundings for treasure” The other players gaped at her, their paladin player visibly annoyed

“In the middle of the fight? Why?”

“With the king distracted he won’t mind me poking around his belongings” The DM sighed.

“Okay, there is a chest directly to the left of the fight.”

“I move towards it” Elizabeth rolled her hidden dice, and suddenly squealed.

“Oh no here it comes,” Robert moaned. The players near him immediately declared that they move away from their fellow adventurer.

“The thief steps forward onto another trap. After a series of clicks, a boulder falls from the darkened ceiling, crushing her.” The table what silent.

“WHAT?!” Rosalind screeched. The other players erupted in laughter.

“The two traps you failed to tell the party about and the one you set off were part of a single trap, made to activate on the trigger in the throne room. As your body is crushed, you drop all of the valuables you had no securely stored, including the enchanted dagger, which” She rolls again, and laughs, “Lands blade first into the orc kings head”

“IGRABTHEDAGGER” the words could not have escaped the mages mouth quicker, “and I cast detect magic on it” he rolled his dice again. The spell reveals at least one magical enchantment on the weapon.

“You find that this dagger, when stabbed into the center of a room, will disable all the traps in that room”

“YES!”

 

----

 

CONSTANTS AND CHOICES

 

 “How could you do it Booker?”

Elizabeth, behind him. He couldn’t face her, not like this. Not after this. But it was always like this. “I… I thought she’d get a better life… She… she deserved better than me.”

“You sold her Booker! You sold me!” Around him Booker could see lights changing. Tears, so many tears. Each one with another Booker, another Elizabeth. Each one another glimpse at their lives. The games, horses, bars were different, but Anna was always the same.  He lived giving her away, and losing her countless times, over and over.

“Stop, p-please”

“There’s not a one, Booker. Out of all of them, there isn’t a single one where you don’t do it.”  Her voice was black. More and more lives passed them by. Lives where they died, they lived. They danced, sang. He protected her, she saved him. He watched the light fade from her eyes. Felt the shotgun blast that killed him.

“Elizabeth!”

“Comstock always gets me, and you’re never in time, Booker.”

“Then… Then I’ll kill him. Strangle him in his cradle, before any of it can happen…” the worlds stopped coming.

“Are you sure?”

“I won’t give you to him… Not again. I won’t lose Anna. Not anymore.” With a pressure on his shoulder, reality peels away. The finger is gone; he’s back in the river.

“Tell me, my son. What new name will you choose for yourself?”

Elizabeth closed the door behind her. When Booker made his decision, she knew what it would mean. The moment he made it, he had always made it, would always make it. She remembered it, each time he said yes. She could feel her hands holding him under. See his eyes not leave hers as whatever made Booker, Booker, was washed away. There wasn’t a single time where he stopped it. Not a one where he didn’t do it.

She sank down. She hated herself for it, but it was what Booker wanted. It was what she wanted. He smiled as she did it. She was thankful. Comstock could never harm anyone ever again.

She didn’t know how long she sat there; time didn’t seem to mean much in this place.

“What is she still doing here?”

“Crying, by the looks of it”

She looked up to see a gentleman and a lady.

“Why do you two keep showing up?”

“She really shouldn’t be here.”

“I know”

“It shouldn’t work that way”

“Then we were wrong.”

“Would you two just make some sense!” The woman sighed, rubbing her brow.

“You’d imagine seeing what she’s seen she’d understand by now”

“And she always was the smarter of the two”

“Alright, just go away, I don’t really want to-“ The gentleman offered her his hand, standing there expectantly until she, with reluctance, took it, and got up. The three started walking along the pier.

“Do you know where you are?”

“It’s… a world between worlds, you could go anywhere from here”

“Correct, when I, and believe me, I do apologize for it, took you from your world, part of you was left behind,” Elizabeth looked down at her hand, she was turning her thimble unconsciously,”But, it seems part of you was also left here”

“So that’s why I can open tears?”

“Maybe” came the voice of the lady.

“Maybe?”

“It’s only a theory. And one I don’t truly wish to test a third time”

“Third time?”

“The result is, unlike us, you live in a world, but a small part of you is, well, apart.”

“Removed”

“Saved”

They came to a lighthouse door. The gentleman tipped his head to Elizabeth, “I would like to thank you”

“For what?”

“For getting it right. It might have been my choice, but it was really up to the two of you.” The pair began to make their way through the door.

“Wait! What can I do now?”

The woman stopped, looked at her brother, and stepped forward, handing her a coin, “You’re a place that can take you anywhere you’d want to do.  Either stay here, or don't. That should help” And with that the two stepped through.

Alone again, Elizabeth looked around. She was alone. All the other her’s were gone. It was just her and the light houses. She looked down at the silver eagle. She flipped the coin. She smiled. Flipping the coin into the air, she gripped the doors handle and opened it, stepping into a familiar but different world.

The coin landed heads up.

 

----

 

KEEPING WARM or WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS.

 

The pair of them was soaked to the bone, and the rain wasn’t going to let up any time soon. Booker sat just in the shadows watching out of a blown out wall, a carbine at his shoulder. It wasn’t the best place to bunk down, but it was at the end of a street, and the second floor had a good view of the walk up. The upside was that he wouldn’t have to worry about most people bothering them about not living in the house. The downside was anyone that did come calling would certainly be a soldier. Regardless, Booker wasn’t about to go traipsing around Columbia looking for “three truths” in some kind of typhoon. Elizabeth had agreed, and so they found themselves here. They had found a stove, which Booker promptly lit, and decided it best to get out of their sodden clothing.  

Whoever had ransacked this place didn’t leave much else; all Booker could find was a set of men’s bed clothes. He was certain the pale green didn’t suit him. It didn’t help that the barrowed cloths stuck to his still damp skin. When he had laid out his clothing, Elizabeth hadn’t come back from whatever rooms she was searching, so he had decided to keep an eye out for trouble.

        Content that no one was coming, he made his way back down stairs. The stove in the kitchen was surrounded by chairs, tables, anything to lay out some clothes for them to dry in the heat. All of Elizabeth’s clothing was there now as well, shoes, jacket, even her underclothes, “What do you think?” Booker turned to find Elizabeth standing in the doorway of another hallway. She had found a shoulderless cream colored chemise with a low neckline, white, that draped down to her knees. Booker was surprised. How does she keep finding these clothes?

“Let me guess, you couldn’t find anything else?”

“Actually, I thought you’d like this one the most. Well?” She spun around and smiled, the girl’s still damp body caused the fabric to cling to her slightly, the hem of the garment barely moved. Booker chuckled, and sat down in one of the few empty chairs.

“You look very nice Elizabeth” The girl gave a soft giggle, and sat in the only other remaining empty chair.

“So now what?”

“I figure we’ll wait it out here until the storm blows over. When it clears up, we’re out of here. It’s a damned fool that goes out in this mess.” She seemed not all that content with the answer. Instead of pressing the point, she just closed her eyes and hummed some far off tune. It sounded like something he heard in a dream once. After a few minutes, Booker got up and started to rummage around the kitchen cabinets.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something to drink. They’ve got to have some cooking sherry or something in here.” The girl chuckled. “You know. You’re far too cheerful for someone in our position.” He knocked over a glass, and behind it was a bottle of amber liquid. He pulled it out. He turned and saw the girl smiling, a sad smile.

“If I just brood on things, I’ll just feel worse and get in deeper. Isn’t that what happened to you? And your debts?” Booker put the stopper back in the bottle.

“Yeah, I guess it was”

“Like you said, I did what I had to do. Now we’re both doing what we have to do.” The patter of rain on the roof, and through the cracks in the building filled the void.

“So, you’re fine with everything?” She nodded.

“Well, fine’s not the right word. But I suppose so.”

Again it was silent. The longer it went the less Booker could stand it. And Elizabeth was just looking at him ardently. His head throbbed. He really wanted a drink. “Even with…uh... what happened on the…uh, airship?”

“For having been married, Mister DeWitt, you’re not very good at talking to women.” Booker couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I guess I’m not,” still chuckling he looked at her and said, “You know, I met my wife when I was young. Younger then you, actually. She might have been the first girl I ever asked for a date.”

“Someone to make the oh so stoic Booker DeWitt aflutter in the stomach? She must have been beautiful”

Booker smiled to himself, “She had… dark auburn hair. So dark, you’d think it was black until the light hit it, and it blazed. She was tall too, taller than me, ‘but just by an inch’,” he chuckled again, “She liked to say that to tease me. She was very kind.”

“How did you meet?” Elizabeth leaned her elbows on her knees, watching the man before her. He was a thousand miles away.

“I was… out on the town. I had just gotten my first job out of the army. Just gotten my first pay check, we had gone out drinking. I must have let it slip I hadn’t been with a girl before, because before I knew it, the others had me pushed up to her,” He rubbed his forehead, “I think she agreed out of pity,” Booker leaned back, his chair creaking, and stared at the ceiling. “A year later we were married. Must have been…’91” Booker lowered his head and rubbed his eye with his sleeve “Damn leaky roof”

Elizabeth just sat there and smiled. She didn’t really expect a story like that from the man. Booker carried more demons with him every time she talked to him. He coughed “Uh… uhm, that doesn’t leave this house, got it?”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded, “You still miss her, don’t you?” Booker didn’t respond. Not right away.

He got up from the chair, “Grief and hate are a hell of a pair to carry with you. You can ask Lady Comstock about that,” he started to walk out of the kitchen, but placed his hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, “Some people just find something that helps them carry on.”

She turned and watched him leave, sitting alone, with the faint dripping, and the soft crackle of the flames. She thought for some time: What if she were to be brought to the brink? Have everything she thought was what made her, her taken away? Would she have something to help her carry on, or be consumed by whatever had taken hold of her? She smiled at the answer, and left the kitchen herself.

        Booker was lying down on a love seat he had righted after they had entered the home, a rolled up blanket for a pillow under his head. The carbine and pistol sitting on the floor beside him, ready if he needed them. Elizabeth sat on the edge, next to him. His eyes were closed “What got you through all of it, Booker? Your wife, your child?”

“I honestly don’t even remember. Probably some very strong liquor.”

“Hmmph. I don’t believe that.”

“Then I guess you don’t know me very well”

She leaned closer to him. Before, in the airship, he smelled like blood, and gunpowder. Now he smelled different. Clean. Like he was born again.

“Elizabe-“ She kissed him. Soon she felt Bookers hand begin to slide up her leg. With a smile she pulled away, pulling Booker up as well until he was seated. She swung her leg over his and straddled his lap. “This really wasn’t a good idea the first time around”

“Two souls finding happiness doesn’t sound like a bad idea” She unbuttoned his bed shirt as his hands pushed up the hem of her nightgown.

“Is that from what of your books?” She smiled at him, undoing the last button.

“May-be” She pulled his shirt down. He had more bruises since last time, and the cut to his shoulder still looked raw, but it wasn’t bleeding. She drew her hand across his chest, tracing the outlines of his latest wounds. The cold metal of the thimble on her pinky was like electricity snaking over his skin. Taking in a sharp breath at the feeling, his hands reached the girls rear, and pulled her closer, grinding her own nether regions against his own, and kissing her neck and collar bone. She gasped at the sudden force, and held Bookers head to her, before pushing him away.

        She smiled, running her hands down his chest to his pants, undoing the button fly and releasing him from his bedclothes. She gave a soft sigh, guiding him to her and sinking down onto him. She bit her lip, giving soft squeaks and moans until he was buried inside of her. Booker groaned, whispering her name back to her.

        He pulled her close, kissing her lips and moving down. Her chin he neck, her shoulder. As he did, Elizabeth shrugged off the chemise letting it pool around her hips. Bookers lips moved down her chest finding her breasts as his hands found her hips, and she began rocking her hips into him. Elizabeth held his head closer, moaning his name. She began to pant softly as he raised her hips above him, dropping them down as he pushed up to meet her.  Elizabeth pulled Booker into a brief kiss. Panting, Booker looked into her sky blue eyes “I think the… this couch is a little small… to sleep on”

“Yes” Elizabeth clutched at his back. Booker wasn’t sure if she was agreeing or not. He held her back as he leaned forward, and lowered her to the floor. A whimper left the girls throat as they separated. Booker laid back down with her, kissing neck as he again entered her. He was rewarded with a sharp breath from Elizabeth, and her legs wrapping around him. He groaned into her neck as again, the girls pinky traced sparks along his back. His hand reached below her, lifting her rear from the floor. Elizabeth smiled panting, and squeezed her legs at the man’s sides, bringing her own hips to meet his. She called his name as he began to thrust more urgently into her.

        Booker’s hand cupped her cheek, the couple smiled at each other through their short gasps for breath, and kissed as Booker thrusted forward one last time, emptying himself into her. Elizabeth moaned into his mouth, trying to pull him deeper, holding him closer with her legs, his arms around his neck. As they broke the kiss, Booker pulled at the blanket on the sofa, and pulled it down to cover them both. After a few minutes of basking in the afterglow of their love making the pair fell asleep.

Two men crashed through the door, day light spilling into the room.

“Return the Lamb, false Sheppard, and we’ll promise you’ll die quickly!”Booker rose from behind the couch, throwing off the blanket covering him, and drawing his hand cannon. The invaders were faster. His shield deflected the first few shots, but soon hot metal ripped through his flesh.

“Booker!” Elizabeth covered by the blanket, hugged Bookers body close, shaking it, “Nonono, Booker! Oh God, Booker. Please… Booker…” As the two men came upon them she looked up, fear in her eyes.

“You’re coming with us, little Lamb” the girl seemed to shiver. Then flicker like a kinetiscope film, and disappeared “W-What?” the two guards minds filled with questions on what they had just seen, before going blank from bullets that burrowed into their grey matter. As the two men fell into a heap, Elizabeth came out from behind the wall she was using for cover, and joined Booker.

“That was… disturbing, Elizabeth.”

“Yes. I really hope I don’t have to watch you die like that, Booker”

“You and me both.”

The couple left the ruined home, three truths still needed to be found and they’d be off this hunk of rock. It seemed the nightmare of Columbia was nearing its end.

 

----

 

IF IT'S ONLY ONE PATH, WHATS THE POINT OF IT AS A PRISON?

 

Elizabeth chewed the last bite of her hot dog. She had never had one before. It was delicious. I wonder if I could get Mister DeWitt to buy me another one. Thinking of her rescuer, she turned around to see where he had gone. The man was walking slower now, and always looking around, like he was expecting someone to chase after them. Songbird was gone, who would even know her here?

The boardwalk was more crowded then he could ever feel comfortable with. If anyone recognized the girl, they’d put two and two together, and this whole thing would be shot.  The girl had gotten pretty far ahead of him too, “Hey! We don’t really have time for this, we’ve got to-“

“Look at that Mister DeWitt!” The girl pointed to a Ferris wheel, slowly turning, couples and children crowded the ticket booth, “Can we go for a ride?”

Being trapped in an open box was definitely not on the ex-Pinkerton’s to do list, the girl was earnest, however. “Not right now it’s uh… the line’s too long,”

“I guess you’re right…” her brow sank, but it didn’t last long as she quickly moved on to look at some playbills, there must have been a theatre nearby, “Oh this one looks nice”

If the girl had kept on talking, Booker didn’t hear her. He had to make sure they weren’t being followed, that business with the bird before didn’t sit well. Anything, anyone in this place could make him, and then the both of them would be in a heap of trouble. Was the girl any good in a fight? Maybe if she had some books. As the thought crossed his mind two police men came around the corner. Damn!

“Uh… hum,  Elizabeth!” that was her name right? He went over to her and took her arm, “I uhm, found something you might like, over here” he started to pull her away from the building, and the officers.

“Oh?”Elizabeth still wasn’t able to figure out the man who had taken her from her tower. He wouldn’t tell her why he had burst in; only that he was taking her out. He pulled her on, and passed a white painted palisade where he stopped. This must have been what he wanted her to see.  Oh my…First he falls nearly into her lap, rescues her from her tower, and now THIS? It was just like her books!

Booker peeked around the corner of the wall. The police hadn’t followed them. It had been a close one. He was sure by now word had gone out for him and the girl to be found. He looked around for Elizabeth, and that’s when he saw the building. It had a large clamshell like archway over a ticket booth and its entrance. There was a large sign above the booth.

 It said ‘Labyrinth of Love’

Oh Lord… I cannot catch a break.

The girl was calling for him. She was already at the teller. She looked a bit flushed.

“Another lovely couple for the labyrinth, eh?”

“Uh, yeah… sure buddy” The teller looked at them both.

“You’re a lucky man, fellah. She’s got quite the look. That’ll be 3 eagles for the both of you”

        Booker paid the man, and Elizabeth had snaked her arm around his, her face still red. Just before entering he was sure he saw a pair in yellow.

“Would you say it’s a case of Canis lupus and Ovis aries?”

“I don’t know about him, but she seemed more the Agapornis roseicollis type”

        Inside the first room was a map. It was shaped like a heart. Elizabeth quickly pulled the man along, “Wait shouldn’t we read the map? I don’t want to get lost in here”

“It’s a labyrinth, not a maze, Mister DeWitt. There’s only one path!” she pulled him through a pair of curtains and the couple was in darkness.

The lights came to life. They were in a hallway. Painted red and white. As they moved forward, there was an alcove, a bench just large enough for two people, and a large print of a man and woman in bed together. There was a small plaque at the bottom of it. Elizabeth squealed and went to the painting. “It’s Romeo and Juliet!”

“Who?”

“They’re from a play! Oh it’s so romantic Mister DeWitt. I’ve always wanted to see the play,” Elizabeth turned from the painting, her hands together against her chest, “Romeo and Juliet fall in love at first sight, but their families hate each other. They have an affair and get married. In the end they both think the other has died, so they kill themselves.” Her face was beaming.

“Oh uh, yeah. Romantic…”

“There’s another one!” The girl ran forward, no, she skipped forward. Booker followed. She sat down on the plush red cushions of the bench. This painting showed a man with some kind of a sheet around him, embracing a black haired woman; she had beads strung through her hair. They stared into each other’s eyes.

“This is Cleopatra and Mark Antony,” She smiled at the man. He couldn’t help but notice she had sat far to one end, leaving room for someone else, “He was a ruler of the Roman Empire after Julius Caesar was killed. He fell in love with Cleopatra, the queen of Egypt. They married and the Romans tried to stop it. During a battle Antony heard that Cleopatra had been killed, and fell upon his sword in grief. When she found out what happened she took her own life as well” she spoke like she was a long way away, like a distant memory. When Booker didn’t sit down next to her, she pouted for a moment and got up. They moved on. Another bench and another painting were further on. Elizabeth again sat down and looked at Booker here eyebrows raised. After a few moments, Booker realized she wanted him to sit next to her. Scratching the back of his head, he sat down.

“So uhm, who are these two?” This painting showed a man and woman standing before two thrones, the man wearing a magnificent red cape and a long brocade over coat, a sword at his hip. The woman wore a white fur dress, with a plush red cloth. They both wore crowns.

“That’s Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. It’s said they fell madly in love with each other. When the prince died before the queen, she supposedly wore black for the rest of her life. She died in 1901. She was buried with him in a common mausoleum, and they had the words ‘Farewell best beloved, here at last I shall rest with thee, with three in Christ I shall rise again’” She sighed and laid her head against his arm. Booker rolled his free shoulder and coughed. Seemed like whoever made this ride felt the couple should read some romantic tales to get ready for the second bit.

“A lot of these stories seem to always have them died at the end…”

“True love demands great sacrifices Mister Dewitt” He never liked people calling him by his last name. It reminded him of debtors and commanders.

“I told you, you could just call me Booker, Eli-“ He stopped himself too late. This was definitely not the right place for that. Regardless the girl smiled at him. When he got up, she put her arm through his again, and they walked on.

This is probably not what they had in mind when they said do whatever the girl wants, DeWitt. I guess if she trusts you she’ll be easier to handle. Another niche was before them. In this one a man stood at the bottom of a mountain. The mountain was surrounded by flame, and a great serpent coiled around the top, where a woman stood. Something about it was familiar. Elizabeth tried to move to sit down but Booker stayed standing. When he didn’t budge, the girl just stayed with him.

“This is the story of Siegfried and-“

“Brunhilde” He had been told this story once, by his mother? He couldn’t remember, “She’s imprisoned in sleep on a mountain top, and he crosses a sea of fire and fights a dragon to save her, because he loves her that much.” He surprised himself remembering that much.

“He drinks a potion to forget loving her, and marries someone else. When she learns about it she has him murdered. When she finds he’s really died, she kills herself by throwing herself on his funeral pyre”

“And there’s the suicide again…“ The pair moved on once again, passing through another curtain. This hallway was darker than before. A red carpet on the floor reflected the color onto the white walls. The effect was rather pink.

“They always die for each other at the end; it’s how you know they were really in love”

“What do you mean always?”

“Well it’s always like that in the books…” It dawned on Booker. The girl was alone in that tower all her life with only books to read.

 “Well things don’t really happen like they do in those stories. Men don’t just fall out of the sky to save the princess in the castle,” He felt Elizabeth squeeze his arm as they walked.

“You did”

He turned, and saw those big blue eyes shining like stars, all the hope in the world inside them, “That’s... uh...” damndamndamn, “That’s different. I was… uh, I was just trying to…”

He blushed! Mister De- no, Booker. Booker! Elizabeth was giddy with the thought. I can make this handsome rogue blush just from looking at him! All that business with him not sitting down, he was just playing hard to get, he had to be! She laughed, and grabbed the man’s hand, and pulled him through the next pair of curtains.

Here the carpeted floor gave way to a small trolley, big enough to sit two people, connected to a track like a sky rail, only in the floor. Like nearly everything else in this place, the cart was shaped like a heart, the bench inside again with red cushions. Oh great, another fancy chair, last one of these turned out to be a rocket. In the way of the track was another pair of curtains. Elizabeth went to the other side of the cart, and sat down on the bench. “Come on, Mi- I mean, Booker!”She patted the seat. Why did she have to seem so damn pleased about all this? Reluctantly Booker sat down. A small bar came down in front of the couple, and the trolley rattled to life, lurching forward, and carrying them onward into the darkness.

Losing the pink of previous hallway, the darkness in the tunnel was filled with deep and dark reds, spot lights cut into hearts shined onto pictures of couples courting each other on the walls. One picture declared above it “The First Kiss” and showed a man with a woman leaning in, kissing him on the lips. Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder how Booker would react to it. The thought of her handsome chaperone holding her and giving her a brief kiss brought the color to her cheeks again. She looked at the man, and was disappointed. Booker was looking around the tunnel, at anything that wasn’t her.

This was a terrible idea. Booker just knew the girl was getting the wrong idea about all of this, the girl clinging to his arm was evidence enough of that. Still, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t rather enjoy the attention. When he finally turned to her, she was staring at him again. Her face was nearly as red as the lights. Booker was sure he could make out the heart shaped reflection of the lights. She really did have beautiful eyes. Easy DeWitt, she’s young enough to be your daughter. Her eyes fluttered and closed, she leaned closer to him, lips pursed. Alright Booker, just let her down easy. Tell her it’s nothing like she thinks, you’re just here to get her out of the city. The two jerked forward against the rail holding them in. The ride had stopped. Booker heard a door open, a man was speaking. Only two reasons to stop a ride like this, police or it was broken, Booker didn’t like either choice. There was also an expectation on what they’d find too. He looked at the girl. Damn, we’re in a tight spot. He grabbed her.

The man stepped over the mechanical junk and trash in the maintenance hall. Whoever ran these things needed to sort this rubbish out. A cluttered work place was the sign of a cluttered life, praise the Prophet. Coming into the main tunnel, the only trolley was a head of him on the track. Walking around to the front, he found the couple, an older man, with a young girl in his arms, a-kissin’ on ‘im, “Sorry to disturb you folks, but there’s a criminal on the loose. Wouldn’t happen to know if you’ve seen him?” He held up the wanted bill.

Booker stared at the poster. It showed a man with a gaunt appearance, with curly receding hair, and a thin mustache. Above the drawing it said ‘Beware The False Shepherd!’

“ We uhm… Haven’t seen anyone like that”

“Alright, well again, sorry to disturb you.” The man walked out of sight, “Alright Charlie you can start it back up!” and a crash “And clean up this place dammit!”

The pair rode out the rest of the ride in silence, Booker staring into space, Elizabeth lean against his shoulder. They left the ride, back at the entrance again, with Elizabeth once again clinging to his arm. Booker looked at her, she was glowing. “Listen Elizabeth…there are…uh, certain things expected in a ride like…well, at the end…”

“Oh I know what’s expected of a ride like that, Booker” she smiled with a deviousness he wasn’t all that comfortable with, “Can we go on the Ferris wheel now?” Booker looked over to the ride, he couldn’t tell how large the line was, but something else caught his eye. ‘The First Lady Airship’

“How about some place else?”

“Hm?”

“How about, Paris?”

 

----

IT'S LIKE A SNUGGIE, BUT WITHOUT THE ARMS.

 

Elizabeth was, well, mortified. She had barely been out of her tower for any time and all ready she was in bed with a man. The Barkeeper explained it well enough. Finkton wasn’t heated the same way as the rest of Columbia, at night the place was downright freezing. They were lucky enough that they were able to get a blanket and a mattress. But Mister DeWitt refused to not sleep on the bed. She couldn’t get to sleep, every time she was about to she’d get another chill, and it was his fault. She wouldn’t even look at him.

He lied to her. He, he was so nice and did all those wonderful things and he lied to her! The beach, and the carnival, that hot dog. Sure most of those things ended in them being shot at but that wasn’t really their fault. But he wouldn’t dance with her. Never trust a man that won’t dance. And the tunnel…  No. It was all lies. But she needed him; this hooligan was her way out. And she was still so cold!

Still, when those children came into the bar, he bought them food. And he did play the guitar wonderfully... What was it he said “I’ve always liked instruments. When I was younger I had a harmonica”

“Oh, you can play that too?”

“No, never learned. My mother paid me five cents a week to play it at night”

He had grinned after he said that. It made her laugh. He was a kind man, she was sure of it. How he acted about Wounded Knee, and those union strikes, that proved it. And he stilled protected her from those ruffians, even after threatening to drop him over the edge of the docks. She looked over at him. He slept on his side facing her. His eyes were closed. Maybe… he wasn’t as bad as all that. The beach was very nice. She shifted closer, not wanting to wake him. And well, maybe some people just don’t dance. And, and, she always did feel safe when he was close, even after he tried to take her to New York. She inched closer to him.

“Mister DeWitt? Are you awake?” eyes still closed. She had stared into his eyes when he apologized about New York, he didn’t look like he was lying. “Mister DeWitt?” The man’s body shifted, and he mumbled something. Anna again? She scooted herself closer. “Booker?” no response. She took his arm and rolled over, draping it over her side. She felt much warmer now, like the tunnel again. As she drifted off the sleep Elizabeth smiled. Maybe I can teach him to dance…

 

----

 

THE STINGER

 

The finger is gone; he’s back in the river.

 

“Tell me, my son. What new name will you choose for yourself?”

Booker looked up at the pastor; in his eyes he saw only kindness and love. Like a whirlpool of all his sins. The shame of it stabbed at him. Wounded Knee, those women and children. Anna. Homestead. There had to be another way to go.

 

“I…I’m-”

“Booker”

He turned, Elizabeth stood behind him.

 

“No… who are…?” another girl appeared, and another, and another. He remembered them, but they were different. Everything she had showed him, but where was she? The women grabbed his arms.

“He’s Zachary Comstock”

“He’s Booker DeWitt”

“No, I’m both” The water rushed over his face. He saw her face. All of them. All the ones he had let down, the ones he had never helped, could never help. As the black welled up behind his eyes, Zachary Comstock struggled, there was still work for him to do, a new life awaiting him. The women held him fast. The blackness swallowed the world he could see, just pinpoints of light, and in the center was Elizabeth, smiling down like the sun. As he felt the water rush down his nose and fill his lungs, Booker DeWitt smiled.

He awoke, drowned in sweat, heart racing.

Anna. Where was Anna? He couldn’t explain the anxiety. He had to see her, see she was alright. She was real. He leapt from his chair, gripping the doorknob, and pushed through.

His world went soft. In her crib she laid there, eyes closed, not making a sound. He reached down and stroked her cheek. His little girl. He was gasping for breath. He pulled his chair into his daughter’s room, and collapsed into it. He wasn’t going to leave her. Why was he still sweating? He took off his waistcoat and vest and threw them on the floor, doing so made his shoulder burn. Rolling up his sleeve he found a blood soaked blue ribbon tied around his arm, and the red gash starting to clot underneath it.

 

----

 

ELIZABETH AND BOOKER MEET AGAIN

 

Elizabeth stared at the door. She hadn’t moved for the past two minutes. She smoothed out her dress for the fifth time and her hair for the seventh. It was nearly shoulder length now. She took a deep breath reached out and knocked.

        Booker DeWitt sat in the bar, his hand fiddling with an empty glass. “I just can’t go out, Henry. “ The barkeep stood back, listening intently, patrons paid better if you listened. “I can’t leave Anna alone. I get all agitated. Like I’ll never see her again” He had been having head aches again, terrible pressure headaches.

        “It’s just new father jitters, Booker.”

        “If I can’t get work, I can’t support her. What do I do then?”

        “What you need is someone to look after her” Henry poured the man another drink. Normally Booker would have downed a bottle by now. It was only his second glass.

“I’m not leaving my daughter alone with someone I don’t know, Henry”

“That’s why you interview them, Mister DeWitt” Booker sighed, staring at his full glass.

“You wouldn’t know anyone, would you?”

“There’s a couple girls that some couples have mentioned. There’s one young lady Robert’s been raving about for the past month.”

“Who?”

“Red haired fellah, I don’t think you’ve met”

“I mean the girl”

“Oh.” The bartender looked up in thought. “Can’t really recall if he ever said her name. Tell you what, next time I see him, I’ll ask after her for you.”

        Booker looked up from his daughter at the knock. After making sure she was still asleep, he got up and walked to the door. He opened it and was met with a young woman, she wore a blue blouse with a white skirt and jacket over it, shoulder length brown hair. He could have sworn he had met her before, a slight ache began at the back of his head, “Uh… hello, can I help you?” she held out her hand and smiled.

        “Hello Mister DeWitt, my name is Elizabeth” he took her hand, the pressure abated, “I hear you need a nanny”

 

He looked younger then she thought he would. And he really didn’t remember anything. Elizabeth had expected that but, it was still disheartening. He did look rather handsome sitting behind his desk.

        “So tell me about yourself Elizabeth” she was ready for this.

        “Well, I was home schooled. My father was a wealthy man, but he never spent much time at home.” It wasn’t really a lie, it just wasn’t the truth. He stared at her. She could remember how his eyes were, looking into her eyes, watching for trouble, their rage at Comstock.

        “How much experience do you have with children?”

        “I’ve been a sitter for some time in the city, yes.”

        “Henry says people have spoken rather highly of you”

        “That’s very kind of him” Who was Henry?

        “Well, it seems to me that yo-“ a cry split the room, Booker nearly jumped out of his chair and went to the door, before he could reach Anna, Elizabeth was with him.

        “Please, let me” before he could protest, she reached into the crib and scooped the crying girl out of it. Anna’s crying had stopped as her large blue eyes goggled at the woman. Elizabeth smiled, “There now, no reason to cry” She looked at Booker, “What’s her name?”

        “Uh… Anna” Booker was dumbfounded, it always took him forever to get Anna to stop crying, and this woman just had to hold her. As he looked at the two of them he felt a pang in his soul. They looked like they belonged together.

 

----

 

Elizabeth sat in Bookers apartment coddling little Anna. She had her bottle as the two listened to the radio. Elizabeth’s heart had melted when she first held Anna. Looking at her face she couldn’t understand what debt could have been big enough to give her away. But that didn’t matter now. With how Booker reacted when she cried, he wasn’t going to give her up to anyone.

        Except her, apparently.

        She loved the girl, but she didn’t really know what to think about her. It’s a strange feeling, looking down at yourself. The Lutece’s thought of themselves as twins… so… Elizabeth pinched herself. Anna didn’t react at all. So much for that. She hadn’t seen those two since she stepped through the door and found them on that roof. She wondered just what they were do-

        Booker pushed open the door and stumbled in. The action startled the two girls, and Anna cried. His eye was blackened, his lip bloody, and his clothes were a mess.

“Oh my God, B-Mister DeWitt! What happened to you?!”

“It’s worse than it looks…” Elizabeth took Anna into her room. Once she had stopped crying she came back out. Booker was sitting behind his desk. He was taking off his coat, wincing at the act. Elizabeth rushed over and helped him take it off. Blood stained his sleeve.

“Oh God, Booker you’re bleeding.”

“Huh, one of them must have had a knife”

“Take off your shirt; let me have a look at it”

“No it’s nothing” He looked her in the eye. It wasn’t a request. Not moving his bloodies arm Booker undid his vest and shirt, and Elizabeth pulled them off his arm. When she saw his shoulder a lump caught in her throat. Booker looked at his arm, “Oh must have pulled it open in the fight” Elizabeth cautiously unwrapped the blue ribbon from his skin and touched the man’s shoulder. It was slick; the gash was slowly seeping blood, still on its way to mending. It was exactly like she remembered it.

“W-when did… How’d you get this?”

“Don’t really know,” Booker rubbed his temples with his other hand, “felt like I just woke up with it one day.”

It WAS him. Her Booker.

 

----

 

Booker flipped through the pages on his desk. Some wealthy socialite wife wanted to know if her husband was cheating on her but nothing he had found, nor anyone he had talked to, supported the claim. It didn’t sit right, something was strange. Elizabeth was looking at him.

        “Is something wrong?”

        “No you were just… well, swearing. A lot.” He hadn’t meant to have been home for so long but none of the husband’s friends or acquaintances were speaking to him now, nothing else to do but go over what he had. He had paid Elizabeth for the usual day, and it seemed she had no intention of leaving early.

        “Sorry, but this just isn’t making sense” Elizabeth closed whatever book she was reading and walked behind the desk, looking over Bookers shoulder, “This woman is convinced that her husband is having an affair, but I can’t find a single thing to support it”

        She leaned forward reading the notes scattered across his desk. Her hair was loose today, and it fell forward from behind her ears. She was rather pretty, now that he thought about it.

        “You know, I think she’s the one having an affair”

“Huh?” She pointed down at some statements he’d taken from their neighbors.

“They keep on saying that she leaves the home at regular times every day, but he doesn’t, the only people coming in are maids ”she pointed over to another pile “And since you can’t find anything I take it all of their stories are fine, right?”

“Yeah”

“So she’s probably the one having an affair. She hires you to investigate him, and if you find anything she uses it to divorce him and run off with the other man.” Booker stared at her, then back to his notes. He started reading through them again. It actually made sense. Every two days the wife leaves the house just before noon, and heads into town. He’d need to follow her to make sure, but it worked to the facts. He wondered if the husband would pay him on top of the fee from the wife.

“How did you think of that?”

“It’s what would happen if it was a book” Booker chuckled. He had forgotten she loved those romance novels. He leaned back, Elizabeth leaned against his desk. “You’re pretty good at this, actually. Maybe I should hire you as a partner rather than a sitter.” She smiled.

“You’d be surprised as what I know, Booker” She got off of the desk, walked around Bookers chair, and over to Anna’s room. As he watched her go Bookers brow knotted up, his head hurt as a feeling of déjà vu snaked into his mind. She was always reading anatomy or history books, why did he remember her liking romance novels?

 

----

 

COMSTOCK MIGHT BE AN INTERESTING GUY TO WRITE ABOUT

 

        He looked down upon the world. The sky stretched out before him, infinite in its majesty and freedom. Clouds rushed by him, the world came to his feet and left them, he soared and dived, ran through rain clouds, crawled through hail storms. This world of endless sky, this Arcadia, spoke to him in a way that he had never thought possible. He stood again, on solid ground, but still in the sky. Buildings all around, smiling faces, cheering faces. The foundations of a city buoyed up by love and faith. Above him, a glorious angel, for what else could be so fair? looked down upon him. Eyes as blue as the sea and skies, brown hair blowing behind her, a kind smile across her face, light streamed from her like that of a setting sun.

 

        You will save this world, Zachary. From the corrupt, and the unrighteous, you will find a way to bring justice, and set right all that could go wrong.

 

        And he fell. The sky abandoned him, the ground met him.

 

        The dream was still so vivid, as if he had only just awoken. As if he was still living it. For the past week he had poured over books in Congress’ Library, hell bent on discovering who or what had given him such a vision. He read all the heretical works he could find for any clue. The myths of the Greeks, Romans, German pagan gods, the vaulted Völsungasaga, anything to give him insight.

        It was there he came across a scientific text. A woman, a physicist had discovered a way to cause matter to float, thought she attempted to correct the journalist saying that they simply “didn’t fall” Comstock was drawn to her words at the end of the article “When it was inquired as to what such a discovery as this could cause to float, the doctor replied ‘Anything. There is no reason to think that even a city could not be lifted off the ground in this manner’”

 

Zachary looked up to the roof of the library, but all he could see was the heavens opening before him, the Angel looking down, “In your name, my task has just begun. I shall see it done!” He would find this woman, this Lutece. She would help build his city.

 

----

 

MAYBE YOU JUST HAVE BRAIN PROBLEMS BOOKER

 

        Booker was looking out his window. Rain droplets plinked against the glass. The rain seemed to have come from nowhere, one moment the sun was shining and the next clouds rolled in and the heavens had opened. Booker had hoped to take Anna to the park. He bounced Anna in his arms.

        His daughter was being fussy with the rain. Nearly every time thunder came she’d cry and Booker would have to coo and talk to her to calm her down. Elizabeth was far better at it than he was.

 

        Elizabeth. The woman was stunning with Anna, his daughter hardly made a peep with her around. Anna grabbed at his finger as he stood in thought. But past how she was with Anna, Booker was confused by her. She was a lovely person and very smart, he couldn’t imagine anyone who’d seemed to have read as many books as her. But there were other things. He was remembering things that he shouldn’t know.  He was picking out winners for races, and he hadn’t even seen the lists of the dogs entered, and things about Elizabeth as well! The books for one thing. He could remember she liked to dance. Had she ever told him that? He had never met her before, but every time he saw her it was almost like seeing an old friend or… His head hurt. Some air would do him good. He unlatched the window and lifted it open, some rain pattered inside onto the floor boards.

        The rain put him in mind of damp clothing and wood burning, the color of cream and a cold streak up and down his back. Booker shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about her so much. His wife had only died barely more than a year ago. He looked down at his daughter.

        “I don’t suppose you have anything to say on it?” She gurgled back to him, “I figured you’d say that.” Still, she was going to be around anyway, he might as well get to know her more. As the girl grabbed his finger he looked down at her, “Do you think she likes French food?”

 

----

 

THE SONG IS AN IRISH PARTY IN THIRD CLASS

 

        Elizabeth was beside herself when Booker had asked her to join him for dinner. It actually was rather cute the way he hemmed and hawed about it. I guess he was telling the truth about his wife. He brought her to a small delicatessen that he assured her served French cuisine. They didn’t, but it was the thought that counted. They were seated outside. She expected a few nerves from Booker. She didn’t expect him to keep on fidgeting about like he was. She wondered if he was like this when he always left his home for his work.

        “Booker, what is wrong?”

        “It’s nothing. Really”

        “You’re worried about Anna, aren’t you?” When he didn’t answer she smiled, “Relax, I left her two friends, I know they wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger,” not if I found out.

        The man opposite her sighed. He was still restless despite her assertions. Elizabeth got up from her seat. He always seemed more at ease when he could move around. Even in Columbia any time they had to be still he always looked around, watching for anything. She held out her hand. “We should go for a walk”

        She had her arm around his, and the pair walked along the streets.  Elizabeth talked about her favorite stories, where they came from and whatever symbolism she could get from them. Booker recounted cases he had been involved in “So in the end, he was trying to poison his landlord by soaking candlewicks in arsenic”

        “That seems like a very long way to go to try and kill someone”

        “Well it almost did the job, so I suppose it wasn’t too bad of one”

        Booker smiled, this was more his element. Even going over notes in his office had him antsy. All he had to do was not think about Anna. He looked at Elizabeth; she was talking about some French book about a revolution. Don’t think about Anna, thinking about Elizabeth instead. They had reached the park before long, Elizabeth stopped as she heard music playing, and she broke out into a smile and pulled Booker along.

        A group of men and women were dancing, to a band of Irish. A woman playing the violin in a yellow suit looked familiar to Booker. Elizabeth smiled and clapped along with the tune watching the people dance. Booker soon found himself tapping his foot along with it as well. When Elizabeth saw, she moved in front of him and spun around, offering her hands.

        “Come on Booker, let’s dance”

        “I told you, I don’t dance” Wait, that wasn’t right, he never-

        Before he could finish the thought Elizabeth took his hands and pulled him into the group of people anyway.

 

----

 

WHEREIN ROSALIND DOES SOMETHING NICE FOR ELIZABETH

 

The Gentleman looked at the child. The woman was very specific on what they couldn’t do. No experiments, no giving her to maniacal madmen, the usual. He glanced at his sister.

“I’m not totally sure we are qualified for this”

“One could say it’s the least we could do for her”

“I knew you’d say that”

“She did make the whole thing work”

“And brought us to the Sea”

“So what is watching an infant to that?”

“I suppose you’re right”

The twins looked down at the baby.

“I do not see the resemblance”

“I think she takes after the mother.”

“How would you know?”

“Does that man seem like he’d b able to make something so adorable?”

They were both taken aback at the comment.

“I’m not entirely sure where that came from”

“It was rather erratic”

They stared at the baby again.

“At what age can these things fend for themselves?”

“On average around seven I do believe”

“And until then we have to-“

“Wait on it hand and foot”

“Or at least until they come back”

Anna, or Elizabeth, they were not sure on the name yet, started to cry.

“Oh what is it now?”

“It’s called crying”

“Thank you”

A smell could be smelt.

“I must say, I’ve just had a wonderful idea to help this never happen again”

The Lady stepped out of the room.

Robert looked down at the child.

“You’re probably better off without her you know. She’d probably try to convince you that elementary particles have a mind of their own.” He picked her up “Let’s get you changed.”

 

----

 

EPIPHANY

 

Days passed after they had danced. Elizabeth no longer waited to be called, she showed up at Booker’s door every day. As Booker had expected, the older ladies started talking. Let them talk. For one of the few times since before Anna was born he was happy. At times when he would not have to go out the three of them went out for a walk. They had just arrived back after one such walk. Booker opened the door, and the girls stepped in. Elizabeth took Anna to her room, and Booker went to his desk.

He still had to reply to the police about a murder that the victim’s family had asked him to help with. There was also a packet he had to deliver to a client regarding a stolen necklace. They could wait. He sat down at his desk and rummaged through the drawers. As Elizabeth came back in he pulled out what he was looking for.  It was a small five cent harmonica.

“Oh no, Booker.” Elizabeth laughed “She just got to sleep. Please no.”

Booker stopped the harmonica half way to his lips “I am actually rather musically talented you know”

“I know” Booker felt a small pressure in the back of his head, he ignored it and smiled at the comment, “Do you even know how to play that?”

“If I never start, I’ll never learn. I can’t afford a guitar, but I could afford this” he brought the harmonica to his lips and blew softly, after a few moments he was playing Mary Had a Little Lamb, off key. Elizabeth sat on the edge of his desk.

“You are a regular maestro, Mister DeWitt” He laughed, leaned back and sighed. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

“I should thank you, Elizabeth”

“For?”

“Everything?” He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, fingers combing into his hair, “When it was just Anna and I, I couldn’t work. I couldn’t leave her alone. It was like, she had been taken away from me, and I had just gotten her back” the pressure wormed its way to his temples, me smiled and looked at her “She would cry a lot sometimes. But she hardly cries with you around. We’re lucky to have you”

“Anna is wonderful, Booker. I think I’d have to keep being her Nanny even if you threw me out” She reached out and placed her hand on his.

“If I did that Anna would never stop bawling. I’d never be able to sleep again”

They smiled at each other and the apartment fell into a content silence. Neither of them were sure how long it lasted, until they heard bells in the distance. It was five in the afternoon. Elizabeth gave a soft, disappointed sigh, and got down from the desk.

        Booker stopped her on the way to the door, taking her hand “Elizabeth wait” she turned and Booker had his hand on her cheek, and kissed her. The pressure in Booker’s head disappeared as he held the young woman in his arms. When he pulled back from her, her face was flushed. “Booker… You-“ He didn’t hear was she said. He looked into her eyes, and he knew how he remembered her.

        Memories flooded his head. Too many memories. Twenty years of memories. He fell to his knees, clutching his head.

“Booker!”

She was next to him. She was in the other room. But the Man had taken her. Comstock had taken her. He killed him for it. He gave her away. He drowned himself in liquor and lost himself in races. He gave her away. He loved her and he wasn’t there in time. The songbird took her and she was covered in blood. He doubled over, his head hitting the floor. Her hair was undone, splayed across the sheets. His head ached, and it hit the floor again. She smiled and was on top of him. He smiled as she drowned him. She was his daughter.

Gasping for breath, Booker shuddered staring at the floor.

“Booker what’s wrong? What’s hap-“

“Out”

“But Book-“ He glared at her, blood running down his face and nose.

“OUT!” Anna cried at the shout, and Elizabeth staggered back and out of the apartment, tears in her eyes.

 

----

 

Memories and Truths

 

        It was a stupid thing to do, she thought afterwards. She should have stayed. Tried to reason with him. But his eyes. He’d looked like that before, when he took her form Comstock house. When he met the Prophet himself. So she ran. Her one room apartment didn’t have much. A bed, wardrobe, dresser, and a small table. She sat on the bed, staring down at the floor. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

        She could see it happen over and over again. Just like after the siphon and the Sea of Doors. But only after the choice was made. She couldn’t see a place where it changed.

        It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

She closed her eyes and saw his face again, bloody and full of rage.

Booker stared at the floor as blood and tears dripped from his face. How long was he like that? He could hear Anna crying again. Anna. It was all about Anna. He never sold Anna, that’s right. She was still here. He had never been to Columbia. He hadn’t spent twenty years of his life alone. But he did. He didn’t want to remember it, these things that never happened. She had made him and he chased her away. He had to get up.

His limbs were leaden. He it felt hard to move them, like he was a puppet, but didn’t know how to pull the strings. He made his way to her room. She was still crying. He knew she was there, but he wasn’t sure if she would be there when he opened it. He turned the knob, and his world turned pink. For a moment there were only memories of Anna. When he first held her, the first time she smiled at him. He wiped his face on his sleeve, smearing the blood more than cleaning it, and looked down at his girl.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m sorry, Anna. I’m sorry.”

He remembered when Elizabeth first held her, and he saw the same pair of eyes looking back at him, smiling back at him. His head didn’t hurt anymore.

“I’m so sorry.”

Elizabeth stared out into the sky. She had spent the entire previous day in her room, when she woke it felt like it was crushing her in. On top of the building she could see the city. Or parts of it not blocked by taller buildings. No walls and an open sky. She could go anywhere, except where she wanted most. Maybe she could find a way to explain it. Something she could say to, convince him. Anything. She didn’t know if he was ever going to remember, or even if he could. But she assumed if he did it…it would have been different. She felt like she was in her tower again.

She stood there until the reflecting sun caught her eye. For years they had tried to make it a light house, it only seemed to work at dusk. It couldn’t work, but it might. Elizabeth raced down the stairs and to the street, heading for the harbor.

        Booker’s eyes opened. He had fallen asleep in Anna’s room again. She was asleep. Whatever had happened to him when he kissed Elizabeth seemed to die down when he was with Anna. She kept him grounded; he could sift through these memories that were his, but not.  Elizabeth. Her hair was longer, it spilled over the sheets. She spun around and her gown followed. She shrugged it off and held him close. The thimble on her pinky traced his jaw.

        He shook his head. She should have told him from the start. Not that he would have believed her. Hello I’m your daughter, who’s older then you now, also that’s me over there. Almost as bad as a city underwater. In spite of himself, Booker saw in Anna all the times he had watched over Elizabeth. She gave him and his daughter a wonderful gift. He shook his head again.

He pulled on his vest and pinstriped waistcoat, normally he only wore it while on the job, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d need it. He looked back at Anna’s crib and for a moment he was going to stay. Leaving his apartment he went next door, knocking. Mrs. Peterson answered.

“Yes, hello? Oh, Mister DeWitt, what can I do for you?”

“Sorry to call on you as such short notice, Mrs. Peterson, but, uh, do you think you can watch over Anna for me?” the old woman looked confused.

“Whatever happened to that young miss who was looking after her?”

“Ahh well…” She smiled, and agreed. A few minutes later Booker was out on the street. The sun was going down. He looked up and down the street. Where could she be? He had never asked her about where she was staying, and no one else seemed to have known anything about her either. As he walked away from the building, more and more memories flooded his mind. He should have brought Anna with him, he could think straight then. He turned a corner and the light hit his eyes. The bronze statue in the harbor lit up like a second sun at dusk.

There's always a lighthouse. There's always a man. There's always a city.

Elizabeth stepped onto the pier. Official visiting hours to the statue were over, but being with Booker had given her a healthy ability to ignore rules she didn’t like. She’d just have to row. She walked along the planks, looking for a boat she could use. It might work. Just like all the other ones. She found a small rowboat, oars still inside. She could open the doors to the Sea and find a different place, do it over. She could-

 “Elizabeth”

She stopped and turned.

He was younger then she thought he would be. He looked older then he should. He was full of kindness and anger. He had already lived two lives. It looked like his heart was burning at his chest. She held her breath as he strode towards her, unsure if she should run to him or get in the boat. He was before her now. She could see herself in the badge on his chest. Booker stared down at her; he knew exactly what to say.

“You…uh haven’t shown up for work, Anna’s getting uhm, upset...” Damn.

With a gasp Elizabeth jumped and threw her arms around him. He held her close. They both kept telling the other they were sorry. He set her down and she stood on her toes and kissed him.

Her eyes grew large as she asked if he was real. She smiled as she bit into her hotdog. She offered her hand to dance.  Her face beamed as they left the Labyrinth. He could hear her singing. She lounged in a chair. They walked in the park with Anna. They danced.

They pulled apart. The pair found a bench and sat there, watching the sun set.

He was ready to live a third one.

 

----

 

DON'T WORRY BOOKER, IT'S ALL UPHILL FROM HERE.

 

Booker DeWitt sat in the waiting room. It was torture being in a hospital for him. It reminded him of his time in the army. It didn’t help that he was useless here. Helpless. His wife was in her room, giving birth. He hadn’t been this anxious since-

 “Mister DeWitt?”

Booker looked up from the floor. The doctor stood at the entrance to a hall that leads deeper into the hospital. He had a wide, heavy set face. He was not smiling.

Why wasn’t he smiling?

“Is-“

“Your baby is fine, but your wife has lost too much blood. We’ve done everything we can.”  He shook his head, “She’s in room b47.”

Booker pushed past the doctor and ran. He found her room, and went in. It seemed to Booker like there was blood everywhere. His wife lay in the bed, taking heavy, labored breaths her hair plastered to her face in sweat. He went to her, she smiled at him.

“Booker… I saw her, she was beautiful,” her hand went to her stomach and she winced, “It hurts…”

He took her hand “You’re…you’re going to be fine” she smiled again and closed her eyes.

“They already told me…” She stopped, taking several deep breaths “Take care of her”

“No”

“You’re a good man, Booker.” She was gasping now. “ You…You’ll be a g-good fath-“

She never finished.

Booker sat there. There was no clock in the room, he had no idea how long he sat there. Face impassive, he reached forward and brushed some hair out of her eyes. He got up and walked out the door.

He was in another room. He didn’t know how he got there. A nurse handed him a bundle of cloth. Nestled in it was a small face. Two eyes, a small nose, a few wisps of brown hair. She didn’t make a sound.

Booker sat down, staring at his daughter. A nurse came by. She had the birth certificate ready, she just needed a name.

“Her name…?” Booker stared at his daughters face, “Her name is Anna”

His shoulders and back heaved. He gasped for breath as the tears poured from his eyes. He held his daughter close.

Anna cried with him.

 

----

 

RING OUT THE BELLS.

 

Elizabeth adjusted her dress and stared at herself in the mirror.

“I’m not sure why I am here”

Elizabeth turned around. Rosalind Lutece leaned against a dresser, her constant bored expression across her face.

“Because, depressing as it is, you two are the closest thing I have to family friends.”

“That is depressing”

Elizabeth sighed and looked back at the mirror. There was a knock at the door. When no answer came there was another.

“We both know you’re going to open the door”

Elizabeth looked at Rosalind.

“Oh alright” She got up. As she opened the door Robert walked into the room, a bundle in his hands.

“What is the rhyme again? Something old?”

“Something new”

“Something barrowed”

“Something blue”

“And a silver sixpence in her shoe”

“I’m not putting money in my shoes”

The Lady and Gentleman looked at her, then each other and shrugged. Robert walked over to her. “If I may?” He walked behind her and pulled a cloth choker around the girl’s neck. It matched her eyes. “And this” Robert handed her a brooch. The one they had given her in Columbia, it looked much older than the one she had.

“Where did you-“

“Best not to tell you, but I will need it back. I do suppose this means everything’s been found?”

“Except the money in her footwear”

“No” Elizabeth glared at them.

 Robert put the pennies back into his pocket. “Ahh I do believe there is one thing we are missing, actually”

“What?”Elizabeth was adjusting the brooch in the mirror.

“Your father” Her brows knitted.

“But he’s”

“To give you away,” Both of the twin’s faces were impassive. Elizabeth knew they were smiling, “We did go over this in the rehearsals.”

“I didn’t forget!” she had.

“While I’m sure the two of you have come to terms with it-“

“Obviously, since we’re here”

“Thank you sister” he turned back to Elizabeth, “The people out there might find it suspect that your future husband walks you down the aisle and gives you away”

Elizabeth wracked her brains. She honestly did not have many male friends. And most of them were older then her. It probably wouldn’t be proper either. She turned and looked at Robert. He WAS smiling. He looked far too smug. “Could… you..?”

“It would be an honor!” He clapped his hands together and looked at his ‘sister’, “It seems we are in the ceremony”

“Oh joy. May I go now?”

“I do believe our other guest of honor has a bundle of joy for you to watch over” Rosalind looked at the both of them and simply walked out.

Elizabeth’s shoulders drooped as she sighed, “Give me those pennies”

 

Booker never really felt comfortable in a suit. He didn’t like the official feeling of it. This one felt like he was wearing a bag over himself. It was a new suit too. Black jacket and slacks, a blue vest, tie tucked in. It was a good suit. He was too hot in it. He looked about the church as the music played on. They didn’t have many friends, truth be told. There were several officers from the New York police there, a few people from their building. Mrs. Peterson was sitting right up front. Next to her was the Lutece woman. Sitting on her knee was little three year old Anna. He smiled as she giggled. Booker looked over at his Groomsmen, they all looked far more comfortable then they had any right to be. They grinned at him. He was about to say something when the March started.

 

All eyes turned to the end of the nave. Elizabeth walked in, Robert Lutece at her side.

 

Elizabeth wore white. Her gown was in a two skirted style, one that was becoming more popular. A small lighter, sheerer fabric skirt in the front while wrapping around the rest of her was a longer heavier skirt leading to the train of her dress. The longer skirt was connected to a bustle; cloth was wrapped and bunched, giving the structure a look of flowers. The design wrapped around to the front of her waist. She looked as though she were sprouting from a white rose bush. Above that she wore an overbust outerwear corset, with slight ribs running its length, in between the ribbed fabric was a faint knotted design. In her hair, held on by a band was her veil, draped over her face. The only thing she had that wasn’t white was her chocker and brooch and her face, flushed and glowing.

 

As they reached the Chancel the priest spoke “Who gives this woman to be wed to this man?”

“I do” came Lutece’s response. He walked her to Booker, smiled at both of them, and stepped down, sitting himself next to his sister.

 

The ceremony marched on. Robert had taken Anna, and now had her sitting on his lap as the people looked on. They shared traditional vows. A good idea, Robert thought to himself. After all, saying “After we escaped Columbia and I found out you were my daughter” probably did not have the right ring to it.

“Robert?”

“Yes, dear sister?”

“Do you have a handkerchief?” he looked at his twin, wet streaks ran down her cheeks. Her tone of voice did not betray this.

“Are you?”

“No, give me your handkerchief” He handed her the square of fabric. They turned their attention back to the ceremony. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make you go through the tiger incident again”

“Yes sister”

 

----

 

ACTUALLY, I THINK I'D LIKE TO SEE THAT

 

Booker stared at the papers covering his desk. None of them were about any cases he was on. Depending on whom you asked they were far, far more important. He looked down at his notes.

“Does it really have to be in a church?”

“Yes, Booker”

Elizabeth sat on the other side of the desk. She was picking through the papers, fliers, posers and news papers. She had narrowed herself down to three dress makers.

“You know how I feel about churches and that sort of thing” Booker rubbed his temples with his hand. Elizabeth looked up. He was having a headache again. She reached over and took his free hand in hers, until it passed, and smiled.

“I’ve dreamed about this since forever Booker. Ever since I was a little girl. I want it to be exactly how I imagined” Booker glanced at Anna’s room, and then down at his paper encrusted desk.

“Exactly?”

“Well back then it was different, I mean I didn’t really know who I was with. I mean I didn’t know many people,” they both fell into silence.

“You were marrying the bird, weren’t you?” Booker grinned as Elizabeth looked down.

 

----

 

THE BOOK IS CALLED TALES OF THE BOOKER THIEF

 

Elizabeth pulled away from Booker, breaking their kiss. They had spent a wonderful day walking around Paris, having just arrived back at their hotel room.

        “Oh Booker, this has been such a wonderful Honeymoon. Paris is everything I ever dreamed it would be!” Booker smiled and chuckled.

“Well, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Kind of wish I knew from French though” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, briefly. She then started to unbutton his shirt. Booker did that same.

As she pushed him down onto the bed, and straddled him, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Je t'aime, mon loup,”

Hoarsely Booker responded “I don’t know what that means,” He kissed down her neck “Say it again,” Elizabeth giggled in response and leaned back, moving her hips against his. She felt more kisses on the back of her neck and turned her head.

Booker was behind her, his roguish smile and slightly graying hair reminded her of how dashing he looked when he saved her. He reached around her and cupped her breasts, kissing up her neck to her ear. She was wearing a cream nightgown now. She looked down at Booker below her as he leaned forward and kissed the other side of her neck. One hand she wrapped around Bookers neck as he kissed the left side of her neck, and the other across his shoulders as the one below her kissed the other side. She felt them both enter her-

 

Elizabeth woke up, Paris was gone. She was in her own apartment in New York. She looked down to see the novel she was reading when she went to bed.

“Maybe…maybe I’ve read too many of these…”

She didn’t think she’d be able to get back to sleep.

 

----

 

MAYBE SHE SHOULD USE A PEN NAME, ELEANOR LAMB SOUNDS NICE

 

Booker looked over the papers again. They were several short stories, most of them romances, one or two were mysteries, and one that he was sure he wasn’t supposed to see that seemed to be about turning into birds. He looked up to see Elizabeth sitting opposite him, face bright and smiling and maybe even a little anxious.

“Well, Elizabeth, these are actually pretty good. You’ve got a nice flow, good word usage. Easy to read,” He laid the stories down, “I do have one question though”

“Yes?”

“Why are all the couples in these named ‘Booker’ and ‘Elizabeth’?”

 

----

 

IT'S LIKE THE HONEYMOONERS BUT WITH LESS WIFE BEATING

 

Booker nudged the door open with his foot, and stepped through. He carried Elizabeth in, her arms around his neck, a huge smile on her face. When they had arrived she refused to step into the building, saying that it was tradition that she had to be carried in. She then refused to step over any threshold. Booker found the bed and dropped the girl onto it, inciting an ‘eep’ and giggling from the young woman. As she stretched out on the mattress, Booker left, shaking his head and grinning.

The bed was larger than the one in Bookers apartment, more than big enough for two people. Elizabeth rolled over, smelling the crisp sheets. She felt like she was hugging a giant pillow.

“You know that tradition is only supposed to be to your husband’s home”

She didn’t look at Booker, she just buried her face in the sheets even more “I don’t care” she was having so much fun. She heard him walk away, and looked up and watched him leave.

        Booker looked around the room. A tiny foyer opened to a small living area with a sofa, table and some chairs; from that room were two doors, one lead to the larger bedroom, and the second to a smaller one. It wasn’t much, but it was the best they could afford. There was a window as well, however it opened to the street, but they had a lovely view of the next buildings brick wall. The floor was cluttered with their luggage. Anna had gotten onto the small sofa, and was dozing off on her own. It was late.

        Booker scooped up his girl and took her into the smaller room. Even the child’s bed was larger than the one he had. He laid his little girl down on the bed. He just knew after she woke up she wouldn’t settle for the bed she had at home. Just another thing he’d have to save up for.

        He walked back to the living area and collapsed on the couch. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. He yawned just as Elizabeth came out of the bedroom.

“Where’s Anna? We should go out and take everything in!”

“She’s already asleep, it’s late Elizabeth.” She pouted at first, and looked at the closed door. She walked over to the sofa and smiled at Booker, taking his had

“Well, I’m too excited to sleep.” She pulled Booker off the furniture and into the bedroom.

 

----

 

A LITTLE SCRUFF IS A GIRLS BEST FRIEND.

 

Her eye lids were heavy, she could barely… keep them…ope-

Elizabeth’s head jerked up as her head fell from her hand. She looked back down at the papers in front of her. Booker needed help getting together a budget. Thank you, Booker.

“That was a close one, what’s wrong? You look exhausted”

“Oh… it’s nothing. I just didn’t sleep well…”

“Bad dream?”

She looked up at Booker. Every time she got back to sleep she had the same dream. They were making love, and then Booker, the one that saved her from Columbia was there too, she felt her face warm at the memory, “Er..Something like that,” she looked down.

Booker cocked an eyebrow and shrugged, walking away. In a small mirror he went out tying his neck tie. After a few moments Elizabeth looked up. Booker was making a mess of himself; she got up with a sigh and had him turn around. Bringing the cloth to a knot she looked up at his face, he had barely a day’s worth of stubble on his cheeks.

She remembered what it had felt like, back in Columbia when they had kissed, the scratchy feeling of the whiskers on her skin.

“When…when do you normally shave, Booker?”

“Huh? Why? Do I look that bad?”

“No just” she smiled, “Maybe wait a few more days this time…”

 

----

 

THEN STOP READING THEM IN BED

 

Elizabeth lay on her bed, a pad of paper in front of her. It wasn’t the best notebook, the cardboard was barely thicker then the paper, but she had a mighty urge to write. Feet in the air, she read what she had gotten down so far.

‘… The dashing man stood against the firelight of the distant burning city. His shadow fell over the girl behind him, the girl he had saved. The girl he would sell for his freedom. She struggled against her bonds.

He approached, and pulled the gag from her mouth, before she could make any protest, he kissed her!’

She stared at the page. She pulled it out of the book, crumpled up the paper and threw it to the floor. No one would believe one man caused an entire city to fall like that.

She took her pencil to the paper again; as she wrote her tongue began to stick out the side of her mouth. After not too long, she pulled back and read her work.

‘… She pulled away from the man.

“B-but we cannot!” she pleaded “It is not proper!”

“Who is to say what isn’t proper?” The man tore open her bodice, ”Ours is a special love Elizabeth,” he kissed down her neck to her breasts.

“O-oh, Booker!”’

She stared again, crumpled the paper and tossed it away.

“I think those books ruined me…”

 

----

 

SHEETS ARE TOO EXPENSIVE.

 

Elizabeth let out a soft sigh as she felt Booker pull away from her. Breathing heavily, she turned and looked at the man as he sat on the edge of the bed; the setting sun cast him in a bronze light, the thin patina of sweat form their love making caused him to shine. She ran her hand along his back; she knew the thimble on her pinky always felt cold to him. She liked to think it excited him. She got up and pressed herself against his back holding him close.

After he had found her at the dock, Booker expressed some distress given their…situation. They had talked about it, how they felt, and here they were. She pressed her face to his back, he was warm, he was real. Whoever they were had been left by the river side. She smiled and pulled him back onto the bed with a giggle. She lay down on top of him, her head on his chest. His arms wrapped around her.

 

----

 

THE DEWITT PETROLEUM JELLY OF CHOICE IS VASELINE

 

Elizabeth leaned forward, her hands on Bookers desk. Booker was behind her, one hand at her breast, the other between her legs. As Booker kissed up her back she shuddered. She remembered when this had first happened.

 

Elizabeth had her arms about Bookers neck as she moved her hips up and down upon him. They kissed as his hands moved down from her beasts to her hips, then her rear. He gripped her hindquarters pulling her down against him harder. In the frenzy of their love making, Bookers finger had… well… slipped inside her. Later Booker had said it was an accident but Elizabeth was never really convinced. It hadn’t felt bad…not really, she just didn’t expect it.

Since then they would go a little further each time. Booker would push a little deeper, move just a little more. To Elizabeth’s surprise each time it felt a little better. Tonight she had told him she’d like to try it. And here we are.

 

        One hand still between her legs, she felt Bookers other hand reach behind her. With a sharp breath she felt Bookers hand rub between her cheeks and push into her, spreading a jelly around and inside her. He asked her again if she was sure, she pushed her rear against him and smiled at him. As she felt him begin to push at her she took deep breaths, trying to relax. She was excited, and sacred, anxious and eager. She bit her lip as he pushed forward. She whimpered at the new feeling, and Booker stopped. “Elizabeth? We can-“

“N-no, wait…”

 

Once she was fine again, he pushed forward again, a little bit at a time. Whenever she gasped or whimpered or groaned, he’d stop and wait for her. It wasn’t too long until he was buried in her. It didn’t feel like before at all. It was bigger, it felt hotter. Booker stayed that way with her; one hand roamed her body as his other was always between her legs, pleasuring her. He kissed her neck, her back, her ears, whispering to her.

“B..B-Booker…”

She put her arm around his neck, and pushed back against him. Booker pulled back, and slowly thrust forward again. And again, and again. Each time he pushed forward and pulled back it felt less strange, it felt better. Soon enough her whimpers turned to moans, and she began to push back against him. He moved faster and she bit her lip, smiling, to stop from being too loud. She could feel it rising up “Booker... I..I…”

 

Booker thrust home again and stayed there. He pulled at her chin, and kissed her, holding her tight as she shuddered and moaned in his embrace. Elizabeth’s head swam. She felt wonderful. Booker took hold of her hips and began to thrust again. She took his hand in hers, their fingers entwining. Booker moaned her name as he strokes her longer and harder, his breath coming more heavily. She smiled as she felt Booker thrust forward one last time. She always felt she could feel him empty himself inside her.

 

Elizabeth stared at the page again chewing at her pencil. She tore the page out and crumbled it up. No one would pay for this stuff.

 

----

 

YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO SCROLL UP TO SEE WHERE THIS FITS

 

Elizabeth walked the streets, reading. She’d had the book for some time. She remembered it in her tower, and had just seen it in a store. She had bought something else too, for Booker. A small cart with a canvas sling and an awning over it, a stroller. It wasn’t much, but it would make taking Anna out much easier. When she had seen it she closed her eyes and saw the three of them walking around the park, or to a store. Like a real family. The thought still brought a smile and slight blush to her face. It would be nice to take a walk today, it was a little cloudy but it seemed like it would be a wonderful day for a walk.

 

A drop of water landed on the page in front of her.

 

Elizabeth looked up in time to see clouds begin to roll across the sky, and over the sun. More rain drops began to fall. With a small ‘eep’ Elizabeth ran, pushing the stroller ahead of her, as the heavens opened.

Booker stood at the window again, holding Anna, she had finally fallen asleep again, the rain always made her fussy. A hurried knock came from the door. Booker opened the door. Elizabeth stood there, soaked to the bone and panting.

 

“Ah..Good…Good afternoon Mister DeWitt”

“Elizabeth? What are you…? You’re soaking!”

“Yes I…well, I wanted to get you something, for Anna…” Booker finally noticed the stroller she had next to her, she pushed it in “And well, it was not as nice a day as I thought it would be”

As she shuffled in Booker couldn’t help but notice how Elizabeth’s cloths stuck to her as she moved. He shook his head, and looked at the stroller. There was a book in it, “Tales” by Edgar Allen Poe. He looked up at the young woman. She was probably the only woman Booker could think of that would rather keep a book dry, rather than her own self. Her skirt stuck to her hips as she swayed back and forth, her jacket and blouse almost looked skin tight as the clung to her. She caught him looking at her, and smiled

 

“I don’t suppose you have any towels?”

“Oh! Yes, right. Here take her” He gave her Anna without much thought “I’m sure Mrs. Peterson will have something” Booker left. He seemed rather flustered. She looked down at Anna.  In the weeks before she met Booker again and seen Anna, Elizabeth had thought of the girl more like a sister, just like Rosalind and Robert. But when they had finally come face to face she didn’t see a sister. And the more time she spent with Anna the more she felt like a mother, and the more she wanted to feel like that. She smiled and brushed the girl’s cheek.

 

Booker came back, an off white towel in his hand. He smiled seeing Elizabeth with Anna. “Er…Elizabeth?”She looked up. Something always struck Booker as Right when he saw them together.

“Yes?”

“You would…like to join me for dinner some time?”

 

----

 

WELL HOW DO YOU SETTLE ARGUMENTS?

 

        Anna was, needless to say, agog. This happened a lot in her experience, but it was still something. She sat on the floor and in front of her Mama and Papa sat and kneeled respectively. They were both saying things, clapping and calling her name. She did not know why. She did not care. This was so. Much. Fun. She giggled looking at them. As they continued their antics she felt compelled to move forward.

 

        Anna crawled closer and closer to Elizabeth and Booker as they chanted calls of ‘Come here Anna,’ and ‘Come to Mama,’ or ‘Daddy’ if it was having an effect on her, neither of them could tell. That wasn’t really the point anyway. Anna came closer and closer. She turned towards Booker, then turned again and headed for Elizabeth.

 

        Both girls squealed as Elizabeth picked up the child and gave her a small toss into the air before catching her and hugging her close.

        “Such a good girl!”

        Booker groaned, “Why is it always to you?”

        “Because she loves her mama” Elizabeth poked the girl’s nose, eliciting a giggle. She turned and smiled as Booker grinned shaking his head, “So, next week we’re going to the theater”

 

----

 

WHAT A GRAND THING, TO BE LOVED! WHAT A GRANDER THING STILL, TO LOVE!

 

        Elizabeth stared at the door. She hadn’t moved for the past two minutes. She smoothed out her dress for the fifth time and her hair for the seventh. This would be the first time she and Booker were alone together in some time, not since what happened with Anna. She shook her head; she didn’t want to think about that. Sometimes she still dreamt of an empty crib. She brushed an errant lock of hair from her face, took a deep breath reached out and knocked.

       

        Booker looked at himself in the mirror. Ever since he had stopped Elizabeth from leaving he’d been agonizing over the choice. Of all the memories he had gotten, precious few really felt like they had to do with him. Who Elizabeth really was, was one of them. He shook his head and looked at Anna’s room. It was one of the things he knew, without a doubt, was real. So every time she tried to get closer to him, he pushed away. But there seemed to be a small part of him, deep and far away that would urge him not to. And every time he felt worse for it.

        “Calm down, Book. You’ve known her for nearly a year now, yeah?” Benson was sitting on his desk, watching him. He face had healed up well, a few scabbed cuts on his face were all that showed now, “You’re way more antsy then you need to be.”

        “It’s not really that simple Oz.”

Benson was about to respond when Mrs. Peterson stepped out of Anna’s room,    “You’ll do fine, Mister DeWitt,” She smiled, “And so will Little Anna, such a darling.”

        Booker looked at the woman then back at his reflection and shook his head. He muttered under his breath, “This is not a good-“ there was a knock at the door. As he walked to the door he could feel Benson grinning at him.

        Booker opened the door. Elizabeth filled the doorway. She was wearing a white dress, with a small skirt that lengthened at her side. It was cinched to her waist with a black sash tied into a half bow on her other side. Her hair had been tied up into a bun, the effect made her look older then she was. The reminder that she was actually older them him made him blush slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice. Elizabeth leaned to her side and looked inside.

        “Hello Oliver. Mrs. Peterson” The woman waved at her.

        “I guess we should get this over with…”

        “Don’t be like that, Booker, you’ll enjoy yourself!” Elizabeth chided him.

As Booker closed the door, he saw Benson give him a thumbs up and grin.

 

        They walked together to the theater, neither of them talked much. Elizabeth looked at her escort. He wore his regular suit, but he had taken off his badge. And he had shaved! Anyone looking at him wouldn’t have thought he was nearly nineteen. She felt like she was robbing the cradle.

        “You look very handsome Booker”

        “Er…thank you,” He didn’t compliment her. She pouted, until the theater house loomed ahead of them. She smiled.

 

        The Doors opened and the pair left amongst the throng of other patrons. Booker could tell Elizabeth could barely contain herself. As soon as they got some room from the other people, Elizabeth ran ahead of Booker and spun around.

        “That was wonderful, Booker!”

        “Did you actually understand any of what they sang? It sounded French.”

        “No. But could you hear the emotion when that woman sang?” She came up to him and grabbed his hands. One of his few memories from before stirred.

        “Er..yeah, it was really… uh, nice.” Elizabeth’s eyes were shining; a number of people were watching them now.

        “It was beautiful, like she was in love” she looked into his eyes.

Booker pulled his hands away and walked ahead of her.

        “We should head home…”

Elizabeth stood alone, watching Booker’s back as he walked off. She sighed looked down, when she raised her head she had decided. This had to stop.

 

        Booker opened his door; Benson was sitting just on the inside.

        “Welcome back, Book,” the man yawned. Booker looked around, before he could ask the question Benson answered, “It was late, Lydia put your girl down and went home. She’s sleeping like, well, like a babe.”

Booker sighed, “Thanks for this, Oz,” Benson yawned again.

        “Not a problem,” he peered around Booker and out the door, “I guess I’ll get going” He got up from the chair, sidestepped Booker and walked out the door.

Benson looked back as Booker closed the door behind him. He turned his head just in time to avoid Elizabeth. Her face of set in determination.

        “Excuse me, Oliver”

        “Oh, er… sorry.”

        She didn’t even bother knocking at the door. She just opened it and walked into Bookers apartment. I guess Booker did something wrong. He liked Elizabeth, for what little he saw of her. He had half a mind to ask her to a dinner. But after the case, and seeing how she made Booker smile, or how she looked at him, Oliver knew he wasn’t in the running. Booker hadn’t had much to smile about. It was good. . Benson chuckled as he stepped down the stairs.

 

        She closed the door behind her. Booker was leaning on his desk, his coat was already off and his vest was unbuttoned. His shoulders were tense and his head hung low.

        “Booker”

He didn’t answer.

        “Booker!”

        “Go home Elizabeth”

        “No,” Elizabeth walked to him, and grabbed his arm, “Booker why are you-“

Booker spun around.

        “You’re Anna!”

        Anna cried. Elizabeth glared at him then took his hand and dragged him to the girl’s room.

Anna cried in her crib, startled by her father’s yell. Elizabeth picked the girl up, but she didn’t stop her cry. After a few moments she gave her to Booker. Elizabeth watched them as he bounced his girl in his arms and spoke to her. Her heart softened.

        “She’s your daughter, Booker,” she looked down, “I don’t really know what I am, but I’m not her. I’m not Anna.” She stepped forward and took his hand in hers, and placed her other hand on the arm holding the girl. Anna’s wailing stopped. She looked down at Anna, then up to Booker.

        “Some time ago, you told me that ‘People just find something to help them carry on,’ you didn’t remember her then, but that was Anna.”

Booker could see it in his head, a house, both of them in stolen clothes.

        “I thought about it then, and I could only think of one person that could help me…”

Something itched in the back of Bookers mind. He wanted to be that man she remembered, “Elizabeth, these memories. It’s like they’re not mine. I’m sorry…” It hurt him to say it. He placed Anna back in her crib, and left the room. Elizabeth watched him, toss his coat aside and sit on his small bed.

        Elizabeth looked down. She knew what it was. The only things he could feel from back then were regret and loss. With who he was, those twenty years without Anna, it was probably all he felt, “You have plenty of sin’s Booker,” she stepped out of the room, closing the door, “But being a bad person is not one of them. Would it be so bad?” she gave him a small, sad smiled, “Who would know?”

        “Elizabeth, you’re not thinking, it-“

        “Do you know what my favorite line from a book is, Mister DeWitt?” she walked over to the bed and sat down next to him, “‘Loving is a substitute for thinking. Love is a burning forgetfulness of all other things. How shall we ask passion to be logical?’” Before Booker could comment, she leaned over and kissed him. It was brief, but it was enough for her.

 

        Booker was in a room. An airship. His shoulder stung. She had cut him. They were sitting on the bed then. Her face was smudged with blood, and her hair was a mess, but she was beautiful. ‘I think you deserve it’ she had said, and kissed him.

 

        As he came back from the depths of the memory, Booker felt a connection to his and her shared past he hadn’t before. He looked down at Elizabeth, and mumbled to himself “It’s still there. Just now there’s some more now. That’s not a bad thing”

        Elizabeth smiled, “That was in the airship, after we-“

He kissed her this time, but she still pulled him down to the bed.

 

----

 

ISN'T LONG HAIR SUPPOSED TO BE A SIGN OF VIRGINITY?

 

        She felt him brush some hair from her face. She felt the bed shift as he got up. She opened her eyes slightly, and watched him. He dressed himself in his battered and bloodied clothes, went to the door and left. She didn’t want him to leave, not now. But a small part of her enjoyed watching his rear as he dressed and walked out. She smiled to herself, and pulled the covers of the bed around her.

 

What in the world are you doing, Elizabeth?

 

        She got up, and found a mirror, she looked at herself. The Sheets pulled about her body looked like a gown. She was amazed at the lack of her anxiety. What had happened… it wasn’t supposed to go like that, she knew. She was supposed to be married, in love. She found she didn’t care. She wiped her face with the sheets, getting the last of the blood from her cheeks. She looked around the small apartment at her clothes strewn near the bed. Like Booker’s they were worn, torn, and stained. She had liked them. She shook her head. They wouldn’t suit her any more. She looked back at the mirror. Her hair cascaded down her bare back. That didn’t suit her either. She cast about for shears, finding some in a small desk. She took them to her hair, cutting it short, just to the length of her neck. As she did, the sheets fell from her. Again she looked into the mirror and smiled. She felt born again.

 

        She went to a small wardrobe and opened it. She found a long blue skirt, and a white petticoat to match, along with other underclothes and a corset. She pulled the new pair of bloomers on, tying them just above her knees. She also pulled the petticoat around her, fastening it at her hip, then the skirt. Finally she pulled herself into the corset. It was a lower cut then her other one, and a little tighter around the chest. As she laced it up, she rather liked how she looked. The wardrobe had a number of blouses and dress shirts as well, most had frills or other decoration. Elizabeth did not feel frilly. She found a small jacket, and tried it on. She smiled at the effect. It made her shoulders look broader, and the way it draped accentuated her hips. She thought how Booker would take it.

 

        Thinking of him she looked back to the bed. It wasn’t supposed to go like that. She was supposed to be in love. She knew she liked the man. She didn’t know if she could come to love the man.

 

----

 

THIS STORY BROUGHT TO YOU BY MISTERS JACK AND DANIEL.

 

        Elizabeth lay her head on top of Booker’s chest. His bed was so small that no matter what they were in contact. She liked his bed. In the darkness of the room, she could barely make out Booker’s face. She wasn’t sure if he was awake or not. She giggled to herself. Her head still swam from the drinks she had insisted on having earlier in the night. She felt good. She felt warm.

 

        Booker was getting better with their… situation. Most of the time he was fine having her around in public, and he was less hesitant about her staying over night with him. Some of that might have been the drinks. Elizabeth’s brow crinkled above her nose as she thought for some time.

 

        She was pretty sure she liked drinks. Yes. Definitely.

 

        She wiggled herself closer to Booker. At first she hadn’t thought about it much. But lately at times like this, she couldn’t help herself. She was his daughter. She was sure this was generally frowned upon. She also didn’t care. In fact the more it seemed to excite her. She looked up at where she was pretty sure Booker’s face was, there was a new shine there. She realized it was his eyes.

        “You’re still awake?” Booker’s voice was a little groggy. He’d nodded off it seemed, “After a few drinks you were always out like a light”

        She chuckled, “Maybe I can’t sleep. I’m not tired enough” her eyes widened slightly as she felt Booker’s arm wrapped around her waist pull her closer. She had a wonderful idea and an evil smile graced her face. I wonder what he would do…

 

        She swung her lag over his waist and straddled him. She leaned forward and kissed his chest, Booker let out a soft groan in response. Already she could feel him harden under her. As she kissed up his chest to his neck, jaw, chin and lips, she reached below her, and took him inside her. As she slowly sunk down unto him, she whispered in his ear, “I love you, daddy”

 

        Booker’s eyes shot open. The apartment was dark. He was at his desk, laying on a number of open folders and papers, there was an open bottle of whiskey and a glass. The glass hadn’t been used. The bottle was nearly empty. He stared at the bottle. After a minute, he picked it up and threw it in the trash.

 

----

 

MAYBE YOU SHOULD SWITCH TO RUM, MISTER BOOKER

 

        Booker groaned into her mouth as he climaxed inside her. Elizabeth’s legs, wrapped around him, held him tight as they embraced and he gave a last few final thrusts into her. When they broke the kiss, she smiled up at him, her skin and eyes sparkling in the faint light coming through the windows. Booker returned the expression, and kissed her again. When he tried to pull out of her, she again held him tight.

        “Elizabeth, I-“

        “No,” she pulled him into another kiss, and looked up at him, “I read in a book that if you keep a man inside you as you sleep, you’ll certainly become pregnant”

The thought sent an exciting shiver down Booker's spine and he felt himself twitch inside her. Elizabeth must have felt it. She grinned and began to buck her hips and grind against him. Before Booker knew it his hands were at her hips again, pulling her against him as he began to thrust once more. Her arms around his neck, she whispered in a breathy moan “I want Anna to have lots of brothers and sisters”

 

        Booker’s eyes flickered open. He had fallen asleep as his desk again. A small bottle of whiskey was half empty of to the side. He looked around the apartment, and found Elizabeth sleeping on his bed. Anna was with her, a book between them. That’s right, she was reading to her. He got up from the chair and quietly walked over to them. Booker didn’t believe in angels, but he was sure he was looking at two of them now. Elizabeth’s head rested right next to Anna’s. Anyone who looked at them would have no trouble thinking they were mother and daughter. Booker smiled and crouched beside them, and kissed Anna’s forehead. He looked at Elizabeth, and brushed some hair from her face, and kissed her forehead as well.

 

        Elizabeth always said her greatest dream was to go to Paris, that she had felt that way her whole life in that tower. Booker wondered if that was true, or if what she really wanted a just a family of her own.

 

----

 

THE STORY WHEREIN ANNA TURNS THREE

 

        Elizabeth looked down at the cake.

        It was a small simple yellow cake, with a white icing. Big enough for three people, maybe. In a blue icing the word “Anna” was written on it. She had made it. She had gotten a job teaching a small group of children. Mostly she read to them, and asked them about the books. She liked it, except it kept her from Anna more often than not. But today was her birthday. Both of theirs, actually. But Elizabeth hadn’t thought much about herself. She was going to spend the day with her, that was certain.

        Until she was walking to Booker's apartment and had seen the two of them walking out onto the street. She hadn’t meant to follow them, but when she saw them leave it came to her that it might be some surprise Booker had planned for her. She couldn’t help herself but giggle and scurry along after them. They had walked for sometime before coming to 2nd street between First and Second Avenue. There was a gated yard, a few trees grew there, and some bushes. They had gone in.

 

        Now she sat on a bench, her cake on its tray in her lap. Booker hadn’t seen her. He was sitting in the grass with Anna crawling around. Sometimes it looked like he was talking. Once in a while he laughed. She hadn’t seen Booker laugh much. After about half an hour, he picked Anna up, and held her so she stood on the ground. Then got up, and placed her back in the stroller she had given him. Once they were gone Elizabeth sat alone in the small park.

        She took a couple of deep breaths and got up, the cake tray in her hands. They shook slightly. She lightly stepped through the grass, over to where Booker had been sitting, and stood there looking at the ground. This was harder to do then she thought. She sighed, and slowly sank to the cool ground beneath her. She set the tray aside. In front of her was a small metal plate set into the ground, unembellished save for the few words: A. DeWitt 1875-1892.

Elizabeth’s lip quivered and she swallowed back some tears she hadn’t expected.

        “Hello, Mother”

 

----

 

THE STORY WHEREIN ELIZABETH TURNS 21

 

        Anna crawled around on the floor, simply having fun making new shapes in a thick blue blanket. At the sound of a knock at the door, Booker had gotten up and opened it. Elizabeth stood outside, looking down and holding a small cake on a tray. She looked up and said hello. There were wet streaks down her face.

        “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?” She stepped by him and set the tray on the small table by the wall. “Elizabeth?” She didn’t turn around to face him.

        “I’m sorry”

        “What for?”

        “I…” this wasn’t like Elizabeth. She had always faced whatever problem she had head on. Booker stepped over to her and put his hand on her shoulder, “I followed you earlier”

        “Followed me?” He’d only gone out once with An- “Oh… Elizabeth…” she turned around, she was ready to cry again, “I’ve taken Anna back there every birthday. It… It’s important for Anna to know where she comes from.” He looked up; it was like a thorn in his heart to look at her like this, “It’s good for her, I think. I… I kind of need it too…”

        “It is good… A… A girl should know her mother” at the last syllable she started sobbing, and grabbed Booker’s shirt and buried her face in his chest. Her shoulders rocked and her back trembled with sobs, “I-I never knew her or… or… sh-he never read to me…”

 

        Booker slowly wrapped his arms around her and held her. He was never good with a girl crying, he never knew what to do. Elizabeth might have seen a lot, but at her heart she was still a little girl, missing a mother she had never known. For now he just held her as she cried. He looked over at Anna, who was staring at them.

        “In the tower I… I just wanted a family” her sobs renewed. Booker held her close. What had he done before? Tried to talk to her about it? What was he supposed to say? Elizabeth felt something tug at her skirt; blinking away tears she looked down from the man and saw two perfectly blue eyes staring up at her. They were sad too.

        “You have a family now, Elizabeth”

 

----

 

ANNA READS A BEDTIME STORY.

 

        Anna pulled the smock over her head and crawled into bed. Her mother was waiting for her, a book in her lap. Today was a special day. She was going to read to her mother! Anna could barely contain her excitement. She crawled to her mother’s lap, and wiggled herself against her body until she was comfortable. She giggled as the woman’s arms wrapped around her and hugged her.

        “Comfy?”

        “Yes’m”

        “Okay” She smiled up at her and opened the book, turning the pages to where they had placed a strip of blue cloth with dark brownish stains. She found the line her mother had ended on the night before, and started reading.

        “‘And what did they say?’

        ‘They said I was mad.’

        ‘And?’

        ‘And they were right.’

        ‘I’m glad you realize it.’

        ‘They must be right, since the real Jean Valjean has been found’

The sheet of paper fell from Madeleine’s hand. He looked hard at Javert and murmured expreshon- expresson..”

        “Expressionlessly,” her mother said.

        “What’s that mean?”

        “It means he said it flatly,” she hugged her again and then said in monotone “Like this”

        “Like daddy!” her mother laughed. Anna went back to the book.

        "‘and murmured expressionlessly, ‘Indeed?’

        ‘The facts are these,’ said Javert. ‘There was a man called Champmathieu living near the village of Ailly-le-Haut-Cloche. He was move of less destitute, one of those poor wretches of whom one wonders how they contreeve-‘”

        “Contrive” her mother corrected.

        “’Contrive to stay alive. Well, last autumn he was arrested for stealing cider apples….’” Anna read on as Elizabeth held her, following the words along with her. Soon enough Anna started to get drowsy, and her reading slowed. She slowly slid her off her lap and got out of the bed. She smiled as Anna let out some lazy protests as she pulled the book away, placing their bookmark in it. Elizabeth pulled the sheet over the girl and kissed her forehead.

        “Happy birthday, Anna.”

        “Happy birthday, Momma.”

 

----

 

THE STORY WHEREIN BOOKER TURNS 24

 

        Booker looked at the flames as the flickered and licked back the darkness. The flames were beautiful, in their own way, but he knew just how dangerous a thing like fire could be.

“Are you going to stare at them, or blow them out?”

Booker blinked, and looked up at Elizabeth, she had a smirk on her face. Next to her was Anna, bouncing and shaking with barely contained excitement.

Booker blew out the candles.

“YAY!” His daughter yelled and hugged him, after a moment Elizabeth did the same.

“You two really didn’t have to do this”

“Well we did” said Elizabeth, matter-of-factly, “Anna, give your father his present”

“Oooh!” Anna ran to her room, the sound of boxes being dragged along the floor could be heard. Then a soft thump, and an ‘ow.” After half a minute Anna returned half holding, half dragging a large box. With Elizabeth’s help she put it on the table before booker. It was covered in brown paper and was tied up with twine. It hung off the sides. “Open it! Open it!”

With a chuckled, Booker pulled at the string, and then the brown paper. Inside it all was a flimsy, but large clothing box. Booker pulled off the top. Inside, lacquered and looking as if it had just been finished, was a guitar. He was speechless. It had to have cost a hundred dollars at least!

“Well?” He looked from Elizabeth to Anna. Both of their faces were filled with excitement and anticipation, “Play something”

“Please Daddy? Please please please!”

“I haven’t played in a long time, I really shou-“

Elizabeth sat down, and picked up Anna, putting her on her lap. They both looked at Booker with perfectly blue eyes full of hope and said together “Please daddy?”

        Defeated, Booker lifted up the guitar, and plucked a few strings and started to tune it. It sounded pretty good, truth be told. Once he was done he looked back at his family, “Last chance for me to stop. This isn’t going to be very good,” Both his girls shook their heads. Booker brought his fingers to the instrument, and played one of the few songs he could remember.

       

He was right, he wasn’t very good. He stared as Elizabeth and Anna’s giggling subsided and continued again. As time went on he remembered more and more of how to play. Soon enough crisp clear cords rang through the apartment, Anna and Elizabeth sat in silence as they watched their father play. When he finished, he looked up with a grin. Elizabeth smiled, and whispered something to Anna. With another ‘Oh!’ she hopped from her mother lap and ran back to her room. She wasn’t gone long, and came back to Booker with a sheet of paper. There was some crudely drawn bars on it, with small dots and lines. It was a sheet of music.

“Play this daddy!”

Booker laughed at her enthusiasm, “What is it?”

“Just play!”

Booker studied the song, and put the sheet in front of him, “Alright, let me give it a few tries first,” He ran through the song a number of times, stopping in places and going back to the beginning, or returning to the previous line. After ten minutes, he was satisfied, he looked to his daughter, “Now what?”

“Play it all the way through!”

Booker shook his head and smiled as the precocious girl. He began to play.

Soon after he did, a soft voice could be heared, getting louder and clearer as it continued. Anna was singing.

“Closely cling, for winds drive fast,

Blossoms perish in the blast,

Love alone will last.

Closely let me hold thy hand,

Storms are sweeping sea and land,

Love alone will stand.

Kiss my lips, and softly say,

‘Joy may go and sunlit day,

Love alone will stay.’

 

Closely let me hold thy hand,

Storms are sweeping sea and land;

Love alone will stand.

Closely cling, for waves beat fast,

Foam-flakes cloud the hurrying blast;

Love alone will last.

Kiss my lips, and softly say:

‘Joy, sea-swept, may fade to-day;

Love alone will stay.’”

 

Booker was surprised, and proud. She sang! “That was beautiful Anna. Who taught you that?”

Anna looked down and blushed “Momma did.”

        “She heard it on the radio one day, and said she wanted to learn it.”

        “You were wonderful Anna” again the little girl ran to her father and hugged him.

“Happy birthday, Daddy”

 

 

----

 

IT'S LIKE THAT EPISODE OF SCRUBS.

 

        Elizabeth stepped out among the other patrons of the market. She loved to go shopping here, so many people, so many new things to see and smell and hear. The whole market was nearly intoxicating, and today she had even convinced Booker to come along.  She lifted a bag with several apples in it, and turned to him. He was carrying six or so bags of food and other things. She smiled at him. He gave her the same gruff expression he had when they left. She couldn’t understand how he could be so dour. They were getting married in a week! She needed to think of something to lift his spirits.

        Booker looked around the market. There didn’t seem to be a single thing here for him. It was all various foods and clothes, dresses, small little knickknacks. Not a single thing to- Ohh…

A gunsmith.

        Elizabeth watched Booker walk into the open store and disappear inside. She sighed softly to herself, and walked off to a clearing where several benches lined a small grassy area. She sat down and looked out. All the women and coupled had children with them. Elizabeth couldn’t remember why they hadn’t brought Anna. She held her bag of apples, and a tune wafted off of the breeze in the small trees and bushes, and into her head.

“I couldn't be happier, Right here. Look what we've got a fairy-tale plot, our very own happy ending” she set the bag aside and stood up, raising her voice in song.

“That's why I couldn't be happier. No, I couldn't be happier. Though it is, I admit, the tiniest bit unlike I anticipated.” She walked to the center of the grass and spun herself around until she saw the shop Booker had entered. “But I couldn't be happier. Simply, couldn't be happier” a sad, far away look cast over her face. ”Well - not "simply": 'Cause getting your dreams it's strange, but it seems a little - well – complicated.” Her hands came to rest over her belly as she looked at the other people in the small park, “There's a kind of a sort of : cost. There's a couple of things get: lost. There are bridges you cross you didn't know you crossed until you've crossed.” She crouched down in front of a little boy who was digging in the dirt, and brushed his hair from his face, “And if that joy, that thrill, doesn't thrill you like you think it will, still - With this perfect finale the cheers and ballyhoo. Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier” she stood, the downcast expression still on her face as she watched the boy play, “Because happy is what happens when all your dreams come true… Well, isn't it?” She turned and saw Booker leave the store, she smiled, “Happy is what happens when your dreams come true!”

        The other peoples in the park rose up, adding their voices to hers “We love you, ‘Lizabeth, if we may be so frank”

“Thank goodness!” she replied, running to Booker.

“For all this joy, we know who we’ve got to thank: Thank goodness!” They rushed after her, “That means Anna, Elizabeth”

Hugging Booker, Elizabeth looked out at the people “And fiancé!”

“They couldn't be goodlier. She couldn't be lovelier. We couldn't be luckier!”

Elizabbeth looked up at Booker, he smiled back down at her “I couldn’t be happier!”

The crowd encircled them and all together they sang “Thank Goodness: Today!” After a beat they said together, with arms outstretched “Thank Goodness for today!”

        “Elizabeth, you okay?”

        She was back on the bench; she looked up from the bag of apples. Booker stood over her, his face full of concern. She smiled; she hoped he wouldn’t see how sad she felt in it.

“I’m alright.” She got up and they continued on their way. Her free hand drifted again to her belly, and she wondered. Would she do it again, if she had known the cost?

 

----

 

ELIZABETH'S DREAMS TRY TO TELL HER SOMETHING.

 

Booker’s desk was clean, for once. As clean as could be, anyway. The papers and files, folders and folio’s were all sorted and pressed into the drawers, and currently laid out on one end was a notebook, half filled with scribbles and thoughts. Book ideas. Elizabeth glared at the page, as if trying to will a coherent story from its muddled ramblings and disjointed ideas. With a soft sigh she rubbed her eyes and looked up. Booker was reading the afternoon edition of the paper. Aside from their breathing and the faint turn of a pager or rustle of paper the room was nearly silent. She looked up at the ceiling, then back down to her book. Idea’s that had streamed from her mind filled the current page, and now that she looked at them none of them seemed very enthralling. A man raised by apes? Absurd. A soldier transported to Mars? Awful. A cough from booker caused her to look up.

        She hadn’t said much to him today. Truth be told she was a little embarrassed about a dream she had the previous night. She felt her heart beat a little faster at the memory of it.

        In her dream, she and Booker were back in her tower. In her bedroom. Booker reminded her that there were scientists just beyond the walls, watching from the mirrors. She kissed him roughly and replied in a breathy voice ‘Let them watch’

She blushed at the boldness of her dream self. She would never have been so forward at the thought of other people watching them. But in her dream they made love in their full view and she loved it. But that wasn’t what caused her distress. They made love a second time as well. In her dream the first time was tender, though there was want and desire. It was as though they were now. The second time he had taken her roughly from behind, with her bent forward, hands against the glass of the mirror, and he laid claim to her rear, the angle of their hips and his thrusts leaving no doubt as to where he entered.

        The image came to her mind and she looked away from the man. They had played at the idea for a while, but Elizabeth hadn’t the nerve to even think of it until now.

        Again she knew that there were people, men, watching from the mirror and again she didn’t care. Her corset was loose, her breasts spilled out of it and her skirt was hiked up over her hips, held there by Booker’s hands as he thrust forward and she pushed and was pulled back against him. He quickened his pace and she moaned his name until she felt her own height of pleasure come over her and felt him bury himself into her. He pulled her back, kissing her shoulder and her back as she moaned and bucked and ground against him. In the throes of their passion she had even called him her father.

        She shook her head and looked back at the man. Of course they both knew the truth of that, but she’d never think to tell him. She wondered what he would do if she had ever called him that. The thought of it sent an electric thrill down her spine and gave a certain fizziness to hear heart.

        As she descended from her climax Booker continued, more roughly then before, it was wanton and delirious and Elizabeth loved it. Each time he came forward she pushed back harder willing more of him to enter her. She chanted his name, called him her father, or simply moaned for more, and each time he provided. Holding her up, Booker pushed her against the mirror, she felt the coolness of it upon her bare skin, and she turned her head to see the man behind her. He kissed her and she felt his tongue enter her mouth, dancing over her own tongue, counting her teeth and tickling the top of her mouth. She felt herself begin to peak again as he moaned into her mouth and pulled her against him and as he thrust forward once more she felt a heat engulf her and she fell over the edge.

She had awoken after that. Booker still had not come home and she was forced to take matters upon herself, and had fallen asleep again before he had arrived. Once she had woken up the second time and seen Anna off to school she had stopped at Mister Burnet’s store and picked up a few things.

Now it seemed to be the only thing she could think of as she looked down at her page. She sighed again and got up and made her way to the small cabinet they had purchased two years ago, opening a drawer and pulled out a small jar.

        “Uhm… Booker?”she said cautiously, unsure of how to ask her question.

        “Hmm?”  the man didn’t look up from his paper, half listening.

Elizabeth paused, putting her thoughts in order. She took a few steps closer, to stand between the door and the desk, “Do you… remember how we’ve been trying to… that is, when we make love and you… uhm… Well. I got this and I think we should…” Booker heard a soft thunk as something was placed on his desk. He pulled the paper from his face and saw Elizabeth standing before him, both her hands resting on a small jar placed at the edge of the writing desk. The label declared its contents was petroleum jelly.

 

----

 

I DON'T REALLY HAVE A GOOD NAME FOR THIS.

 

As he pulled off her boots she leaned back, her head resting against the headboard as the absurd number of pillows gave her a wonderful view of Booker at her feet. Off came her other boot, and then the long stockings she wore with them. She smiled and let out a soft giggle as he kissed her feet, first her toes, then along the side of her foot, to her ankle. He grinned at her, and climb on to the bed, his lips marking a trail up the inside of her calf, pushing up her skirt as he went. As he pushed the garment to her knees, he reached forward, unbuttoning the skirt and starting to pull it down, exposing the tops of her under bloomers. He pulled at the cord that held them fast, then slipped his thumbs under it and pulled down slowly. Booker kissed her skin just above the band of the garments, pulling down further and further.

 

Elizabeth raised her read up as Booker pulled the garments further down. He veered off from her nether regions and began kissing down the top of her other thigh, then down the side. As he kissed back down her leg he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. She laughed as he did. He knelt before her now, kissing from the outside of her knee to the inside. He smiled as her again and this time she felt the tickle of his whiskers against her skin. He gently pushed her legs apart and kissed up her inner thigh, sucking softly as her skin. He looked at her again, looking into her eyes over her pelvis and softly rising chest. She bit her lower lip in anticipation. He moved forward and Elizabeth felt his mouth engulf her. She gasped suddenly and arched her back. She felt Bookers tongue lightly flick against her, she brought a hand to the top of his head, running her fingers through his hair. Soon he began to suck against her, and her breathing quickened. He raised his head, trailing his tongue along her slit. She felt his hands grip her hips and pull her towards him again. Elizabeth found herself flat on her back staring at the ceiling. With no warning she felt Bookers tongue enter her, just the tip at first, but soon more and more until it felt like it writhed inside her. Again she gasped, and moaned louder as she felt his hand reach up and rub against her. She brought her legs together, groaning loudly as she wrapped them around his head and along his back. Her other hand went to her breast and she closed her eyes. Her hips rolled as she felt a heat rise up inside her. As it began to build and peak, she felt the man withdraw and pull away. She panted and sighed at the absence, she looked down and Booker was gone. She leaned forward, looking for her man.

 

The bed shifted and Booker was next to her. She began to say something, but was silenced as Booker kissed her. Her hands reached up to his cheeks while his hand reach between her legs. She moaned into his mouth, feeling his fingers flick over her and enter her. His tongue entered her mouth and swirled around hers, lightly pressing the tip of his tongue against hers, and then down the underside. Her hands slid down from his cheeks to his chest and finally to the belt at his pants. When his hand left her she pushed him down to the bed and swung her legs over his hips. She lay down against him, smiling at him. He grinned back at her as she pressed her chest against him, her breasts pushing up and out of her corset. She leaned back, and rolled and ground her hips against him, feeling his hardness part her nethers, sending a thrill through her body. She felt him twitch beneath her and she stopped.

She enjoyed being teased as much as the next girl, but two could play at that game.

 

----

 

BOOKER GOES TO FIGHT CLUB

 

        The onlookers mulled about as the last two fighters left the ring. No one else was up for a round; it seemed the event was over. As they more well to do of them left, those lower on the social ladder decided to celebrate their winnings or mourn their losses with a round of drinks. One man, he’d fought and lost in the fourth fight, was wrapping his knuckles in some cloth bandages to help stymie their bleeding. He was sitting on a large crate, stripped down to his trousers. Modestly built but with well defined pectorals and biceps. A number of scars dotted his torso, some looked more like large dimples in his skin, while others were just faint discolorations, there were also more than a few long lines of puckered skin as well. His hands were large but deftly handled the gauze he was working with. He had a strong squared jaw with high cheek bones, but with full, almost boyish cheeks. A heavy brow was knitted together in thought. Blood dripped from a cut above his right eye.

        “You might want to get that looked at” she said and the man looked up.

“Wha?”

She smiled and pointed to her own brow, “Your eye”

Booker DeWitt reached up and saw his hand come away bloody, “Oh… Hah…” she handed him a small handkerchief and he wiped his hands on it and brought it to his brow, “It’s uh… it’s nothin’,” He looked at the girl who smiled at him. A few days ago his mates had gotten him drunk and forced him to ask her out. Today must have been the day, he’d forgotten all about it, “Er..uhm… Let me. Let me find a shirt…”

“Now hold on there, soldier boy,” She advanced upon him. Booker backed away and stumbled back onto the crate. She stood before him, a grin on her face, she pushed some of her dark auburn hair back behind her ear and leaned forward, “Since you’re such a big war hero, like you said, I have to admit I’m more than a little curious about your body.”

“I..w-what?” Oh God, what had they gotten him into?

“Your scars.”

“o-oh…”

She poked a finger out, pointing at a short slice of puckered skin that ran down the left side of his chest, three inches away from his shoulder.

“What’s that from?”

He looked down at the small scar, it was an older one, but he still remembered how he got it, “Indian braves attacked our column as we marched. Had an arrow go right into me the moment we saw them,” It had felt like someone punched him in the chest, and when he looked down a shaft of wood was sticking out of his flesh. It had hurt like hell when the doctors had pulled the damn thing out. The next time they were in a fight, he had gotten close enough to one of them to run them through. He imagined that was the bastard that stuck him.

“And that one?” She pointed to a longer fainter scar on his right side.

“That one’s kind of embarrassing…”

“Ohh hold on” she hurried, no almost skipped over and grabbed a chair and brought it back, she sat down in front of him closer then when she was standing, ”Okay tell me”

“Er…” It had been his fourth day at camp. They hadn’t even gotten any kind of basic training and they were already out on the frontier. He was trying to sneak back to his bunk while drills were going on and wasn’t watching where he was going, he ended up getting a nice slice from his bayonet when he tripped over a tents tethering. “We were doing drills. Bayonet drills. I was out of formation and uh, got skewered.

She laughed at that. Booker couldn’t help but chuckle along. After a few moments she pointed out another one, poking his skin.

“And that one?”

It was a wideish dimple on his left bicep, “Rifle shot” he said, as if she should have already known that.

“You were shot by your own men?”

Booker let out a short chuckle, “No. No. An Indian. Just a boy, maybe thirteen? He was standing on a hill and fired down at us.”

“They had rifles?”

“Of course, half of them we sold to ‘em,”

“What happened to the boy?”

“I don’t really know. I uh, didn’t see much after getting hit,”

Booker had gotten on a horse and rode him down, shooting the boy in the back as he ran.

The girl got closer again, this time she sat next to him and her hand caressed a group of scars on his abdomen, “And these?”

Booker blushed at her closeness, “Er… That one is from our side, I’m afraid” he heard her giggle by his ear, cannon shell landed ahead of us. It happens; sometimes the boys just don’t have the sight they thought. A handful of the thing flew back and hit me,” her hand still lingered on his stomach, “Wasn’t close enough to do much but, uh, give me a belly ache.” He laughed.

“This one looks new” she said, looking at his left shoulder.

Booker smiled at her, and she smiled back, “Oh that one? That one’s very special”

“How so?” she batted her eyelashes and gave his shoulder a soft kiss.

Booker laughed as Elizabeth pulled the bandage around his waist and under his arm, “Ahh, it’s a long story.”

Elizabeth pulled the bandage tight around his midsection, tying it off and then sitting herself on the edge of the desk. Booker shook the sense of déjà vu away and smiled at her, she smiled back. Since the case two weeks ago she hadn’t smiled much. It was nice to see her face brighten up again.

“But I think it’s got a pretty nice ending” she said.

 

----

 

i GUESS ELIZABETH HAS AFFECTION PROBLEMS

 

         A clang rang out as their glasses came together in their toast. Booker downed the whiskey in one gulp, and smiled as he watched Elizabeth drained hers in a few sips. They were on their third glasses and while Booker was only now starting to feel the effects, Elizabeth was nearly a giggling mess. But it was a celebration after all. With Booker supposed to be on bed rest Elizabeth had taken it upon herself to head up his investigations and had just today brought home her first payment. When she finished her drink she noticed Booker smiling at her and gave him a goofy grin. He laughed. She put her glass back down onto the desk.

        “I think I’m gettin’g… I-I’m better at drinking, Ithink.” She giggled to herself. Booker chuckled and took her glass, she tried to grab after it. He placed it on his side of the desk along with his own glass, screwed the top back onto the bottle, “Nooooo”

        “I think you’ve had enough”

        Elizabeth knew what he’d say next “I don’t wannaaa”

        Booker got up as Elizabeth tried to both reach for the bottle and stay sitting at the same time. He limped around his desk and, grasping the girls arm, pulled her up from the chair.

“C’mon baby girl” he said with a smile. Elizabeth leaned on him slightly as he put an arm around her. He gently pushed and guided her back to the bed; she chuckled and giggled to herself. She sat down on the edge and looked up at him.

“I like that” she leaned back, putting her hands behind her. Booker walked back to the desk to pick up the bottle of whiskey and put it away.

“Hmm?”

“’Baby girl’” she said with a grin. Booker laughed as he looked back at her and walked to a small cabinet against the wall, “Maybe you should just admit you like me Booker,” her voice slurred a little more. Booker laughed, opening a small door and putting the whiskey in with a few other bottles and jars. “Boooookeerrr”

        He turned around and saw Elizabeth still sitting on the bed, her hands on the edge, and leaning forward. She’d taken off the blouse she was wearing, and had undone the top few laces of her corset. It still provided some support, but the down sweep of the garment made her bosom seem much larger. She knew it too. Booker wondered if she kept on trying to drink because she knew it made her more adventurous.

        And she still had that goofy grin on her face.

        She leaned back shrugging her shoulders, the corset slipped down a little further. Ahh he thought, that’s why she wanted a drink. It had been nearly a month now. Booker rubbed the back of his neck. What was it the doctor had said? ‘No strenuous activity’? Thanks a lot, doc. Maybe if he waited a while she’s just go to sleep?

“Booookeeerrr” she whined, she wiggled her hips into the bed.

Booker sighed and, despite himself, made the short journey to the bed and sat down next to her. She smiled and started to unbutton his shirt. He took her hand in his.

“Elizabeth, you know what they sa-“ she silenced him with a kiss and continued to pull at his shirt, undoing the last button and pulling it from him, freeing his right arm in its sling. She softly slid her hand down it.

“I can be gentle,” thoughts swam and whirled around in her mind. She wanted to tell him she loved him. Sometimes more than anything she wanted him to hug her close and call her his daughter, and other times she wanted him to kiss her and call her his wife. But foremost among them she wanted another drink. With a drunken grin she wondered if she could get one from Booker. She pushed him down onto the bed. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his side and shoulder and Booker winced with a groan. Elizabeth leaned over him and held his arm.

Seeing the distressed look on her face, Booker let out a chuckle and flashed a pained smile, “I’m fine…I’m fine…” The smile disappeared when he felt drips of water on his face; tears were running down Elizabeth’s cheeks, “H-hey, Elizabeth?”

She was back in that hospital, seeing him asleep and broken on the bed for the first time. Seeing the face she had known before bleeding from his nose as she led him to that altar. Between soft sobs and gasps for breath she begged in a slurred voice for Booker not to leave again, that she was sorry for what she did. Eventually she collapsed and was lying on the man. The extra weight sent pain through his system but Booker put his arm around the girl. She buried her face in his neck as he patted and stroked her hair.

“It’s alright, Elizabeth. I’m not going to- Eh-Elizabeth?”

Her cries had stopped, and while she was still breathing heavily it was silently. Booker shook her shoulder gently to no reaction.

She was asleep.

Booker sighed and chuckled. He was sure he’d rue the day she could hold her liquor.

 

----

 

BOOKER WORKS AT A SPORTING CLUB

 

        The doors to the building swung open as the man walked in. The spurs on his feet clinked as he stepped inside and took a look around the place. A pair of chaps covered some plain black trousers, and over his chest he had a long striped garment, almost like a blanket. He was old, almost forty by his looks, scruff covered his face, and his pair of angry green eyes looked out from under the wide brimmed hat he wore at the ruffians and good time gals that surrounded the tables and stage. He lifted the blanket he wore and under it he had a tan leather vest and a shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He pulled at his belts and took off his holster handing it to the man by the door before cracking a wry smile and stepping down into the establishment proper.

        Booker had seen him before. Pretty sure his name was Joe or Jack or something, but everyone just called him Blondie. He wasn’t really a regular, only seemed to come in maybe once or twice a month, but the girls liked him and that was enough for him. That was pretty much his whole job, really. Let in the guys the girls liked, and kick out the ones they didn’t. He liked it well enough, steady pay, pretty good people, and every now and then he got to beat a man that really deserved it. He didn’t think much of it at first but now he felt like it was really his place. The Madame may pay him and own the place, but he always thought of Gray’s Girls as his place, and his girls. Mary was always quick with a smile, and Grigit could out drink anyone, even him. Carrie could get into fits at times but she was a good girl at heart. Joss always gave to charity, with her own ‘lucky half dollars’ after her customers had their fun. But his favorite would always be Anna. The sweetest girl you could know, and pretty to boot. Sometimes he regretted that she had to play the trade, but and she had reminded him every time he brought it up when he was in the bottle, there wasn’t much else a woman could do, and it was easier than being a washer woman.

        She’d died giving birth to some bastards bastard that’d been put into her belly.

        Booker waved at the barman, Gregor, he was going outside. Through the doors and into the cool night air he stretched his legs. And looked up at the stars. Anna loved to watch the stars. He shook his head and pulled out a pouch and some paper. He poured out some tobacco and rolled it up, pulling out a matchbox and getting a light. He stood outside smoking, watching the sky slide by and the various night folks of Granger New Mexico scurry by. It wasn’t so late, just after dark, people that had gotten to stowing up late were just now locking up their shops, or kicking out hanger’s on in the stores, but the out-of-towners, ranchers, farmers and kids were all long gone. The town was getting ready to bed down for the night, all except the Sporting Houses.

Granger wasn’t a city by any means, but it was larger the most of the main street towns you saw out west, the Railroad the good farming had seen to it that the town started up, but the Mayor was the one that really got the town going. He was in the shop now, but Madame Gray liked to make sure he never had to use the front door. Booker grinned, the man in charge could always count on the lovely ladies to keep their mouth shut, when it mattered.

A shriek from upstairs shot through his mind like thunder and brought his train of thought to a crashing halt. He pivoted on his heel and was back inside. Mary met him on the way to the stairs, said she was sure it was Carrie. Gregor shouted that she was in room five. Booker tore up the stairs, and pounded along the walkway to the door, ripping it open. Carrie was under a man, kicking and pounding at him, the man didn’t look any older than twenty, and kept on chanting that Carrie should like him, he was rich after all. He screamed as Booker pulled on his shirt collar and pulled him off the girl.

Carrie had a round face with largish grey eyes and dirty red hair and sweet but thin lips. She also had a red eye that booker knew would run to black in the morning, and blood dripping from her nose. The man shrieked and tried to turn around and bring his fist to the man holding him. Booker pushed him against the wall.

“You okay Carrie?” he said, the girl nodded after a few moments. Booker looked back at the man as he smacked the wall and swore at him then he turned back to the girl, “He do that to you?” She nodded again.

“You bastard! Do you know who I am!? I’ll make sure yo-“Booker jammed the mans face into the wall with a resonant thud and he saw stars.

“I don’t care. You hurt one of my girls and you’re lucky to be able to talk” He gripped more of the dazed man’s shirt and pulled him off the wall. The man choked and gurgled as he was pulled down the stairs and to the door and thrown out. Not a single patron batted an eye, women were a rare thing out here, and most of them didn’t tolerate those that beat on them. Booker stepped outside with the man.

“Y-you-“ he was coughing and hacking, tugging at his neck as he stood, a rock in his hand. Booker pulled out his revolver and pointed it square at the young man’s chest.

“I think you’ve got a mighty need to be somewhere else, boy. You can come back once you’ve learned yourself some manners,”

The young man’s eyes wobbled from the pistol to his own shaking hand. The bouncer’s hand didn’t move a fraction of an inch. He dropped the rock and ran.

        Booker tossed his roll up in the dirt and walked back inside.

 

----

 

ELIZABETH REMEMBERS A NICE VACATION

 

        “Why do you still do this, Elizabeth?”  the man asked as he filled a glass syringe from a vial, “Why do you still insist on fighting all of this?” he placed his hand over her arm. He didn’t need to, she was strapped into the chair, she couldn’t move. The needled pressed against her skin and then pierced it. He injected whatever it was he had. She simply stared back at him, defiant as she had been for the past three weeks. The man sighed, “ If you just gave in, all the pain will go away. We won’t have to do any of these things to you” he came closer to her face. Her head was strapped down, her chin held in place. His hand gently stroked her cheek, “I could make everything so much… nicer for you. If you just stopped fighting”

 

        Elizabeth glared at him as he touched her, then went back to staring at the ceiling as she felt a burning in her arm, and felt it start to speed up her bicep to her shoulder Her teeth ground as it filled her body, she wouldn’t scream. Not this time. After a few moments the burning died away, the man in his white coat just watched her. He was about to speak, but Elizabeth cut him off, “I never liked watching people be hurt”  she said to the ceiling, “But when Booker comes through those doors, I’m going to enjoy watching him shoot your brains against the wall”

 

        She couldn’t see the man’s face, but she knew he was smiling, “Mister DeWitt is dead, Elizabeth. There’s no one coming for you.”

 

----

 

LIKE A FINE WINE

 

        Booker DeWitt’s eyes slowly opened. He was usually a sound sleeper, but certain noises always woke him up. The creeeaaak of the bedroom door was one of them. He looked down to the end of the bed and sitting there was Elizabeth, a leering smile across her face, “Elizabeth? What time is it?” it took Booker a moment but as his eyes adjusted to the  faint light, he noticed that Elizabeth wasn’t wearing her usual chemise or smock. She was simply wearing one of her corsets, and not much else. The woman’s smile broke into a toothy grin as she leaned forward and crawled slowly to him.

        “Ooh, I think you could say it’s the hour of the wolf…”

        She came upon him and pinned down his hands with her own, her face above his. Everyone always commented to Elizabeth at how wonderfully she’s aged. She was nearly forty-one now, her face was lined with creases from the edges of her nose to her mouth, faint lines ran from the edges of her eyes, there was even a slight droop to the flesh of her cheeks starting to form as well. Booker didn’t see any of that. To him she was still that girl he half remembered seeing in that tower. He pulled her close and kissed her roughly, rolling both of them over. She gave a soft gasp at the action, and he snaked his tongue into her mouth, and it danced along her palate, and stroked the underside of her tongue. He had turned them over, now he was on top and she below him. His hands held hers, though now their fingers were entwined. He pulled away and as some nascent rays of sunlight pierced the window, he looked into her shining eyes and growled.

 

----

 

BOOKER DIES AT THE END

 

        Everything that I could do, all the things I could see and bring with me and take and make and go to. Sometimes it all seemed like a cruel joke. Booker’s breathing was getting more ragged.  I could tell it hurt him to try. Every breath he took had to cut him a little bit more. A knife in your chest will do that.

It was impossible, it was obscene. All the things I’d seen him do, all the things he’d done. Booker survived so much, enough tragedies to fill all the lifetimes in a city, and Booker had or would, walk away from them all. And he’d been stabbed by some no-name man. That was no way for Booker DeWitt to die. He should be facing against an army, or-

        What am I saying; I don’t want him to die!

        The man wouldn’t be troubling us. He’d have a lovely view of the ocean as he fell from fifty thousand feet. It didn’t even make up for what was going to happen. It was all going so well to. We were living normal lives, I’d found him and we’d been together since. I never even had to tell him about us, what we’d done. Every other time Booker would find out, somehow. Or I’d tell him, or he’d remember. It had never happened here. But when he’d slumped to the ground it all came pouring out of me. Except for one thing, even now I couldn’t tell him he was my father.

        How could I? Every other time it always pulled us a part. It always took time for us. We didn’t have any more time here.

        “So,” he said, “How… how many times have we gone through this?”

        “I don’t know,” I said back, “I-I’ve lost count really”

        He chuckled and groaned. I’d told him about the tears, how he’d saved me that first time, how ever since we’d been going through times and lives with each other. ‘Like star-crossed lovers’ he’d said back, and that was when my tears had started. He’d been asking questions since. Every time he breathed or spoke more blood gushed from his chest and harder it was for him to talk. It was like we both thought that as long as he could talk, he wouldn’t go away.

        “And I never. Never remember it?”

        “Sometimes… bits and pieces…” Every time it was a little more. Sometimes I imagined that we would do it again, and when we first meet he would sweep me off my feet.

        “In… in all the t-times.,” He struggled, “Did we… was.. w-was I ever a father?” My hands trembled as I held his and I cursed my tears that I couldn’t seem Booker clearly anymore.

        “Yes…”

        “Was I... any. Any good at it?”

        “Oh Booker” I wanted to hug him, lay down on his chest and hear his heartbeat. Just one last time. You were everything a father should be Booker. You stumbled through life and you made mistakes and bad choices, but you faced them down. More than once you showed me that you’d do anything to help me, to give me a better life, even if it meant your own.

        “That bad… huh?” he gave me a crimson smile, “Was it a boy or a girl?”

        “A girl…”

        “What wa… was she like?”

So I lied to him. The sweetest lie I could think of, things I’d dreamed of doing while I was in my tower, things I’d wished we’d done when I was out, things we had done in the past or the future. A story of a girl named Anna. Booker saw her first steps, heard her first words. He’d held her hand as they walked, and he helped her learn to read. He hugged her tight when she first had her heart broken, and he hugged her tighter when she told him she’d be married.

        Booker closed his eyes, “She sound. Sounds like a… a g-goo. Good g-girl.”

        He breathing was heavier; his words were starting to gurgle, “Hey... w-why. Why cry?” he said, “You’ll s-s-ssee me a-again ,” Blood frothed up at his mouth and he coughed, sending a mist of blood over him and a splatter over his shirt to mingle with what was already soaked there.

        The only thing I could do was sob harder

“I’m-m S-sorry Eliza-Liz-abeth”

        I looked him in the eyes. Our first time without Columbia, without a city and its people trying to kill us, and it ends like this. As gently as I could I lifted his head and lowered mine and kissed him. As I did I could feel his breathing slow, getting harder and harder, and stop.

        I felt him leave me then.

“No no nonono” I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck, I could feel the warm blood there on my face and I didn’t care. I wouldn’t let him go, “Please no, Booker”

 

        Paramedics came some time after. I didn’t know how long it had taken them. However long it was it was too long. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen Booker die. It had happened before with us together. Twice. Each time was harder than before. All of this… I couldn’t do it anymore. There had to be a way, some way that I could get it all to work right.

 

----

 

ELIZABETH READS SONGBIRD A STORY

 

        He was being such a baby about it. Really this wasn’t called for at all. All the fidgeting, and he's the one that wanted it!

        “’As we walked through the myriad halls of the mansion, I couldn’t help but notice the hairs on the back of my neck slowly standing on end as we reached the final door of the east wing,’” Elizabeth read, “’Beyond this one final door was where the experiments were done. Not just science but magical too. Here demons were given flesh and gave secrets so doctors could enact their own hellish fantasies, rending bone and melting flesh into the shapes they so lovingly desired. I gripped the door handle and nodded to Epiphany. It was going to have to be hard and fast, we didn’t know what was waiting for us. I turned the handle an-‘“

        The room thudded around her and she looked up from the book.

Songbird, her oldest friend, had hit the ground and covered his great eyes with his hands. He shook too.

        Such a baby, “If you’re going to act like that I’m not going to finish!”

After a few moments the big stupid bird uncovered its eye and looked at her. It sulked, like a dog that’d been hit on its nose. I got back up and crouched on its haunches, doing its best to look like it was sitting in a chair. It groaned in, as far as Elizabeth could tell, an apologetic way.

        “Right. ‘... the door opened with a creak that could wake the dead, and then in the gloom I could se-‘”

THUNK!

        “Oh, Come on!”

 

----

 

BOOKER OF THE BLACK HILLS

 

        He hid in the small scrub bushes of the plains. The tall grass was too far off, and the bare patch of land cleared by a fire from the sky most like, would make it impossible for him to cross to it without being seen. And he had to go unseen; the chief was clear about that. Rival tribes would pick their small expedition party apart if they were found. Surprise was the key, surprise.

The Cheyenne scouts were close, and getting closer. If they found him, the entire exploration party would be found out and the raiders would pick them apart. Standing Bear was right, he had to be strong, and he had to kill so that his people could survive.

        He rushed out of the bushes, screaming bloody murder and swinging his tomahawk at the Cheyenne scouts. He threw it and it missed by inches. The scouts fled.

        As the dogs barked and galloped away Booker smiled. He’d beaten them! The Cheyenne wouldn’t be finding out about the party now! He picked up his rock, his tomahawk, and tossed it into the air, catching it again. The Cheyenne were tough, but not as tough as the Lakota. The Black Hills were theirs.

         “Booker, come along, your father’s found a good spot for the blanket”

        “Coming Momma!”

        They were going to have a picnic today. Booker ran up and hugged his mother, burying his face in her skirts.

        “What is that on your face?”

        “It’s my warpaint!”

        “Honestly I don’t know why your father lets your great uncle tell you those stories…”

 

----

 

ELIZABETH GETS PREGGOS

 

When we had first heard the news, I couldn’t believe it. Every other time I’d gone in for a checkup they’d always told me it was impossible. It didn’t seem real, but the doctors said it was true.

        Booker was the same way, but once it sunk in he was happy, maybe even happier then I was. I’d always wanted a family and now I could finally have one of my own.

        As my belly grew larger and larger, Booker’s mood changed. He became more withdrawn and despondent. He’d still be around but like he was far away, distant. Maybe as time went on he liked the idea less and less. He’d get drunk more too. There were more than a few weeks where he’d come home stinking of booze, slurring his words and nearly collapsing onto the bed.

        Booker would never admit it, though. I’d ask him about it and he’d say he was fine, or that a case was bother him, that was all. One night I sat him down, and made him talk, like I’d had to do before. He was so wormy in trying to change the subject but eventually he relented. He looked at me with a melancholy smile on his face; he said “You look so much like your mother did…”

        And that was all it took really, to tell me what was bothering him. I squeezed his hand and smiled and it seemed that was enough for whatever gate’s he’d built up around his thoughts to break. He leaned his head on mine and talked and talked, telling me about my mother. I took his hand in mine and listened, resting his palm against my belly to feel the little life we’d bring into the world.