I ship Bookerbeth hard. Burial At Sea messed me up. This, is what I felt was a more happy ending. Sorry for not updating anything, hope you enjoy this. Crash Course update is coming soon. Blessings update is coming before that. Afterlife update is coming after those two. More oneshots on the way.

Elizabeth gripped the exposed rebar with her slender fingers. She groaned, and doubled over in pain. She felt as if someone just socked her. Her face was throbbing, as if it was just hit with a wrench. This is the end, but I don't want to die. All of my anger, trying to find the last Comstock, and now he's dead. Now what? No more tears. No more Booker. Just Sally. Yes. Sally.

Sally is the person who depended on her. She had to get her out of here. She let out a small laugh. She and Booker were so alike. She quietly wondered if this is how he felt at times. Drowning, struggling to think of solutions to the ever-surprising Columbia.

Why did she drown him? She could've brought them to Paris, to start a new life. To… well. Elizabeth didn't know what was going to happen if he brought her to Paris. She'd gone after he died, but the City of Love wasn't so loving when she had nobody there. Many men, many suitable choices, she supposed. But none of them were Booker.

He body was screaming at her now, sore joints wrestled with her organs, desperately trying to get them to stop working, so they could relax. She gripped her throbbing forehead, where the migraine was winning a battle against her frontal lobe. She fell to her knees, the decayed floor piercing her stockings. Several drops of blood flowed from her knees, but she could care less.

She knew when she got out there, she'd be killed by Atlas. No. Fontaine, you saw his dressing room. She didn't know how the tears got out of her eyes, but they were flowing freely now. She whispered out, "Booker? What do I do? BOOKER!"

She should've just taken them to Paris. Should've just listened.Should've opened a tear, teleporting them to the place of her dreams. They'd be there together. Is that really what you want? To have been in Paris, when other Bookers and Elizabeths and Annas suffered because of the white haired fuck? Her father? No. You know who your father is. It's Booker, being around him in Paris was going to eat at you. You love him, don't you. You sick fuck.

She slammed her fist into the grey rubble, cutting her knuckle and bleeding on her dirty white blouse. But she didn't care. She screamed, "I don't care what we are! I just want him to hold me! Is that too much to ask? I just want the only person who ever acknowledged me as a human to love me more than anything else in the world!"

She gripped the Hand Cannon in her right hand. The only weapon she had left from Columbia. Booker's PaddyWhacker. She wished she could've brung the the Carbine with, but alas, the all powerful goddess was stumped by the lifeless weapon. How pathetic.

Elizabeth couldn't take it anymore. She was going to find a way to kill Atlas. She was going to die, but as long as Sally was safe, then it would've all been worth it.

She took out her last cigarette. A snapping of her fingers, and a small flame protruded from her porcelain skin, lighting the small room around her, with a drab light. She supposed if there was anyone looking at her, then she might've looked insane. A splicer, who was so bloodlusty that she scared even the Big Daddy roaming the hall behind her. Good.

"Good? I'd imagine that would be the opposite of what the woman we first saw escaping Columbia would've wanted." Robert's voice sounded behind her. She turned her head, and let out a giggle.

"I think I am actually insane. Booker, you here too? That's one person I'd like to see once more." Elizabeth's eyes, once shiny orbs of blue, lighting up a room with love. Shattered. Empty. A gaze into her lifeless eyes would've been met with a single emotion.

Longing.

This time, when Elizabeth opened her eyes, Rosalind was standing before her. She crouched over. "Yes. That Elizabeth was once the person that tore Booker's mind apart. You both, killing yourself internally. All over love, all of the fear that the other didn't reciprocate the same feelings."

That hurt. Booker loved her?

Robert spoke, piercing her thoughts, "This I do not understand. You both coupled in Emporia-"

Rosalind cut in, "Disgusting, we had just finished dinner and decided to pay our favorite duo a visit. Horrifying scene to walk into."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. She sat against the wall. "You guys knew about that? How… why….-"

Robert had let out a slight groan. "Elizabeth. That is besides the point. Booker is gone, and Booker loved you. Not as a daughter, but as a lover. I don't think he wants you to throw away your life. For our sakes, don't do that. I don't think I could restrain myself from helping you."

Those words hung in the air. Elizabeth groaned, and threw her face into her hands. Sobs swallowed the silence, drowning them in dry heaves. Elizabeth steadied herself, placing her hands against the grime covered floors. She glanced at the twins before her.

"You can't, just… help me? Why?" Elizabeth spoke, her voice on the verge of shattering into thousands of pieces. She imagined what would've happened if Booker was here. A voice to her right shattered her very mind.

"I woulda beat 'em up, before they could've said a thing. I would've got you out here Elizabeth, I still will. I'll figure it out, to save you, and that little girl."

Elizabeth fell, catching herself on all fours, and began to cough violently. She looked at the now-puzzled Lutece's standing near each other, horror on their faces. They expect me to understand. Well. No more books, no more powers. It's just me, the twenty-what? Twenty Six year old, who just wanted to be loved by the man she drowned.. "Elizabeth, you know why."

Elizabeth shot up to her feet, Hand Cannon in her right hand, feeling heavy, but powerful. "No. No I don't."

Rosalind sighed, and stepped forward. "Elizabeth. The doors close. Not just for you, but for us too. One day, all of them will shut on us, and we will have no choice but to be mortals again. Physicists, not omniscient beings."

Elizabeth fired back, the venom burning the air around them both. "Is that such a bad thing? To lose the powers you possess? I had… so much, the ability to create tears. The ability to summon dangerous events, in a blink of an eye. Get myself anything I ever desired. The one thing it couldn't get me? Booker."

With that, she gripped the envelope in her left hand, and stepped towards her death. The twins could do nothing but watch as her small frame, click, click, clicked away. The tapping of her heels could just be barely heard. A turn, and she was gone. No noise left.

Robert turned to his companion. "It's a shame we weren't psychologists."

The tapping of her heels, and the beating of her heart was the only thing Elizabeth could hear. The explosions sounded, she was sure, but she couldn't make out their noises. She was too busy arguing with herself. Was this worth it?

She could turn back now, and beg the duo for a portal out. A tear, to leave her guilt behind. A swift uppercut connected with her slender body. As she stumbled and caught herself on a pipe in the dark hallway. She realized in horror, that would make her as worse as Comstock.

Sure, Sally knew that Elizabeth coming to the rescue was a long shot, but she knew as well as anybody… that the severing of hope, was worse than death itself. The difference between her and Booker was immense. She couldn't do anything anymore, no more tears. No more escaping fate.

She wasn't a knight in shiny armor. Booker took six months to save her, but she never once doubted that he wouldn't come. He always was there to save her. And you killed him. Maybe it's for the better.

Booker sounded off to her left, and gripped her arm, hauling her to her feet. "No. I'll get us out of here."

Elizabeth held her breath, even if she said anything to this fractured version of Booker. She'd break apart into little bits and pieces. She let out a sob, and whispered into the warm arms belonging to Booker. "I wish Booker, I wish."

She slipped the Hand Cannon into Booker's holster, her fingertips grazing the leather. One hand gripped his larger hand. Her left hand tried it's very hardest to stay intertwined with Booker's. Elizabeth couldn't let herself get caught in the web of her imagination. Then she might as well have killed Sally herself.

No, she stepped forward, her confidence steadied herself. Whether it was real, or conjured up, was beyond her. At this point, she could care less.

Her eyes gazed at the scene before her, Sally was struggling as soon as she saw her savior. Her, well, what was Elizabeth to her? Mother? Her body trembled, if that's how Sally saw her, she desperately wished that the hope Sally possessed, brought Booker back. She wasn't sure if she even save herself anymore.

Atlas, stood before her, the dark, dim light showering his figure in an aquamarine glow. He stood proud, steady, and his eyes were vats of bloodlust. Something Elizabeth was quite certain was mirrored in her own.

She glanced at the henchmen around her, they were standing still, arms crossed. Menacing to anybody else, but Elizabeth could see right through them. The only dangerous person here was Atlas.

"Do you have it?" Atlas spoke, words slurred with an accent and hurried. Despite his confident stature, Elizabeth could almost taste the excitement radiating off of him. She stared straight into his eyes, and grinned. Despite being covered in blood. Some her own, some belonging to others, she couldn't help it.

Her left hand gripped the letter, and her other fingered the brooch on her neck. Her index pressed itself against the engraving, and Elizabeth wished that Songbird would appear. But much like her other guardian. He was gone.

"I have it." Elizabeth's words were quick, concise and cutthroat. It was as if she was channeling her in Booker Dewitt.

"Hand it over then, I'm keen to get this brat of me hands." Atlas gestured with his right hand, to the still struggling Sally. The little girl pounded her miniscule fists into the broad forearms of one of Atlas' men.

She smirked internally. Not as big as Booker's.

"You know what? Andrew Ryan said I was a rube…" Atlas reached for the small paper that Elizabeth hand extended to him.

She withdrawed as he moved his hand to take it from her grasp. His face was no longer held stoic. Instead, the once facade he donned, was on the ground in a heap of imaginary debris. At his core, Frank Fontaine, was a man of many men. Ever changing. Always someone but himself.

Elizabeth thought for a split second. Who really was he? After you stripped off all the wigs, all the makeup. All of the lies, all of the confidence. What would be left behind? A bitter man wanting revenge? Elizabeth chuckled on the inside. Oh how she could empathize.

"But he was wrong, I'm not the rube, Atlas. You are." Elizabeth's syllables were covered in thorns. So dangerous, so hateful. How could anyone love her? At this very moment, dancing on the line with death. And you think of love? You had your shot with Booker. He's dead now."

Dead.

"Now. We both know what happens next." Elizabeth's face was no longer contained. A scornful scowl smeared her face.*

Dies.

"Just get it over with." Elizabeth held herself still, waiting for Atlas's answer. Was she hoping for mercy? Was she looking for him to take pity on her?

Will die.

"Well love. If you insist."

She saw the wrench coming a mile away. She could've moved. Could've done something. But in the end. She pushed everyone who tried to keep her alive away. Nice way to put kill, Elizabeth. She supposed it was her time.

But a blinding flash of light erupted behind Atlas. A light she'd only seen once explosion rocked the water, waves of now empowered water slammed themselves against the glass.

Atlas was mid swing when the explosion knocked his surefire headshot to her shoulder. It hit, but the velocity he once had was dumbed down, and it hit her slamming her body into overdrive. She had no weapon, she discarded Booker's Pistol a while ago.

Atlas, slammed her to the floor, the envelop hitting the grime stained tiles. Water seeped into the paper.

"No. No-no-no. What does it say?" Atlas screamed at her. He brought down his wrench into her side, knocking the air out of her. He brought the wrench down on her left knee, and she could feel it shatter. She cried out. She caught her breath and Atlas grabbed her by the neck.

She coughed into his grasp. She hacked up a mouthful of spit and shot it into his right eye. "It says, would you kindly."

He chucked her against the floor, "Thanks dearie." And took off. Water was spilling into the room at a mind boggling rate.

Atlas's smile dropped to the floor when he saw the dead bodies of his men. He picked up a Revolver from the floor and aimed at her. "Hey love, would you kindly fuck off? His words sounded out into the air, and the bullet soon followed.

He had taken off, at this point. He knew it was stupid to try and stay in the knee height flooded room. The bullet cut through the air. Elizabeth could see it for a split second ejecting from the revolver.

This was it. The Lutece's had done the best they could. Bringing in the explosion of her tower into this world. And she was still going to die. I'm sorry Booker, I tried. I really, really tried.

She couldn't stand anymore, her left kneecap was broken, so she'd die from the bullet. Or die from the water. She desperately hoped it was from the .38 bullet.

The bullet never hit her. Instead, she opened her eyes, and saw the familiar orange glow. Her heart raced. "Return to Sender? B-Booker!"

"I'm here, Elizabeth. I've got you. I've got you." The bullet flew off into the distance, hitting a concrete wall, and she felt those arms wrap around her small body. He lifted her up bridal style. She stared back at him, gazing into those hardened emerald gems.

"Where's Sally?" Her voice dripped with horror. Had they taken her? N-n-

"Here." Sally's soft voice sounded. She quickly scrambled over Booker's shoulder and smiled at her.

Elizabeth started to droop. "Wh-where are we going?" She slipped out of consciousness soon after. She could feel the fast movement of Booker's body sprinting, the tight grip of Sally's hand, the… the softness of Booker's arms.

When her eyes opened, Booker had jumped, her eyes widened as they leaped through a tear, and his feet hit the floor, but instead of a crunch of broken concrete, or a soft padding of blood stained carpet. His feet hit the floor with a tap and they all fell against the hardwood floors.

Booker was lying on his back, catching his breath, and Elizabeth was laying on him. Straddling him. Elizabeth's face immediately went red, but she didn't want to get out of the embrace of Booker. They lay there.

She buried her face into his shirt, soaking the white cloth with her tears. "I can't believe you are here. I can't… what did I do to deserve this? I should've died. I should've died!"

She could feel arms wrap around her. Booker lifted her chin, so that she could face him. "Elizabeth. Elizabeth! Nobody deserves the treatment you got, nobody. The Lutece's. They brought me back. How? I don't know, and don't care. I just know they brought me back to save you. And god, Elizabeth I couldn't let you die."

Elizabeth nodded, and sat in Booker's lap. Her face was again dipped in a jar of tomato sauce. "Elizabeth, what's wrong?" He rubbed the tears off her cheek, and brought her closer.

She whispered out, "I don't want to be your daughter. Booker. I want you to love me. But please don't push me away. Actually I shouldn't have said that. Nevermind, I'll be your daughter, just don't leave me. Booker!"

She was having a panic attack in his arms, and Booker soothed her with a kiss. She immediately melted away, "Whatever you want, I'll give you. Want me? You have me."

She was on the verge of crying again. She was nodding away, blinking out the tears. She pulled him into another intimate kiss, her tongue dipping into his mouth. She was going to tear the clothes off of Booker, and have him then and there, in the middle of the apartment that the twins had given them. But, a soft voice broke the silence.

"Yuck."

Booker had started laughing against her lips, pulling away, and letting Elizabeth hear the heavenly chuckles from him. Her jaw nearly hit the floor. She known him for, a, well. Time slipped out of her grasp from jumping from so many tears. But she never heard him so joyful like that.

Sally had stepped towards them, Sarah grasped tightly in her grasp.

The three of them hugged on the hardwood floor of the kitchen, giggling like schoolgirls. This. It really happened? It really happened. Oh my god.

Booker had lifted them all up to their feet. His jaw dropped. "Elizabeth, you aren't injured! Wait." He patted himself, and looked at Sally. "None of us are."

Elizabeth had gazed down at herself. Her Rapture clothing was gone. Instead, her first outfit when she met Booker was back. Booker was wearing a pearl white shirt, leather holsters holding a Paddywhacker and a Broadsider, and a Carbine slung over his back. He had black trousers and matching jet black dress shoes. He had a loose, blood red cravat donned.

Sally's black dress was gone, replaced by a light grey one. Sarah was no longer covered in soot and dirt, instead, as clean as the first day manufactured.

Booker's stomach tore through the silence, making a noise that Elizabeth thought was a bomb going off. That made Sally giggle.

"Well this is Paris right? Let's go get us some croissants. I'm starving."

Elizabeth nodded off, blinking the tears out of eyes. "God. We did it. We did it."

*(God. I am so sorry. I just. Couldn't help myself.)