A familiar scene plays out before you. A man and a woman stand before a glass case containing a dead body. The man offers to open it. The woman refuses. He insists. He finds the clasp in the back, and when he touches it, the lights dim.
But this time, it is not a man's voice that rings out, but a woman's. Hers in fact; the woman who waits on the other side of the case. She seems just as confused as he does though, so either she doesn't remember saying these things, or...
"I...see...everything. I will die soon; the 'procedure' goes wrong, and looking through the cracks of the universe does not, or will not, help. But that is the way it must be. All I can do is turn the machine he had built for me in her tomb to my own ends...and pray. Booker, when you hear this, I'm sorry..."
Strange and horrible light pours forth from the devices on the wall and the two are in agony. Her hands at first are raised above her head as if to ward off the tendrils of energy that gnaw at her, but slowly stretch out in an unconscious, familiar gesture. His mind feels as if it's being ripped in two. Things that he should have known, but that he'd forgotten or misplaced, come flooding back, clashing violently with the things he thought he knew about the world and his mission and his life.
Suddenly, it's over. Booker DeWitt opens his eyes and finds himself sprawled over the sarcophagus of Lady Comstock, staring blindly at her portrait on the wall. He blinks, and blinks again to clear his eyes. He doesn't remember crying. He hasn't done that in years. Not since Anna... Anna. He lifts himself up and stumbles around. She's slumped against the wall, her head tilted back. It seems as though she hasn't moved since the machine stopped.
"Anna..." His voice hurts. Everything hurts. He moves forward nevertheless. "Anna." he says again, and Elizabeth moves her head slowly, slowly, until she looks him in the eye. "I'm here, Booker. I've always been here." she says and even manages a little smile. He reaches her. Reaches out to her. She pushes herself away from the wall and into his arms.
What an odd place for an embrace. The woman hated the girl in life. What would she say now? Such thoughts are academic, in this world at least. They're both crying; both holding each other tightly; both wondering what happenened; both deciding it can wait; both happy just to be right now, to be where they are, who they are. No questions, no recriminations, just this. Them. Father. Daughter. Together again.
A voice from outside. "Well, that wasn't supposed to happen."
And another. "Not like this."
"Rather a mystery."
"I do love a good mystery though."
"Do you suppose asking them would do any good?"
"Worth a try."
"I say, Mr DeWitt..."
"That was rubbish. You sound like a schoolboy."
"Would you like to have a go then?"
"Certainly would."
A disgruntled growl from inside. "Do you mind? I'm trying to hug my daughter here."
"There'll be plenty of time for that once you've given us an answer."
The man replies. "You've been holding out on us since the start. I'm just payin' my debts, that's all."
"He seems to remember everything."
"But why?"
"He is obstinate as ever..."
"Then I suggest we examine the variables."
"An excellent proposal. Excuse us."
The Luteces vanish as lightning cuts through the sky above. Elizabeth pulls away from Booker and walks slowly around the room, peering at the devices on the wall. "Any idea what those do?"
"They hurt, I'll give 'em that."
"Yeah, you c'n say that again. I mean besides that."
She frowns. "When they were on, it felt like something was using me. Like they were forcing me to open a tear."
"Think you might be onto somethin'. Take a look." She comes back to stand at his side. He points to the structure on their left. "That room was on fire when we came in here. A fire that big wouldn't go out that quick."
"And that building in front of us had a roof on top, I'm sure of it." She pushes the gate open and steps outside. He follows, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "We should probably talk, huh?" she asks quietly.
"Uh huh." he says. She turns to face him, hastily brushing a tear from her face. "Hey, you missed one." He wipes a second away with his thumb; she smiles, closes her eyes. "There, all done."
"For now." she says wryly. They walk up the stairs in silence. Elizabeth pauses and her face falls slightly when she sees the bodies. "Gimme a sec." Booker says. He starts to clear the bodies away as his daughter waits. They belonged to civilians, so he tries his best to be respectful of them, remembering what she'd done with a rose just a few hours earlier.
Finally, he's finished, pulls a chair up from where it had been cast aside and offers it to her. "You didn't have to do that." she says as she takes it.
"Yes I did." he replies. He waits for her to sit before seating himself on the ground before her.
"Beauty before age, Booker?" she asks. They smlle and, eventually, they begin to talk.
