She wakes to Paris.
She hadn't expected to wake up at all, when the long black cloud came down over her eyes for the last time. The Luteces had made the consequences of returning to Rapture very plain to hear: no take-backs, no Tears opening to save her at the last instant, no waking up in another world with a hell of a headache. Not even the comfort of knowing another version of her might have made it, for she was the last Elizabeth in all the worlds. After an ending that final, what could there be but oblivion?
So it's with considerable surprise that she opens her eyes to find herself at a cafe table in the 17th arrondissement, with the sun shining on her face and a tiny china cup of espresso on the wrought-iron table in front of her. For a moment she can't quite believe it, and then the air hits her lungs and she knows it's real and she can't stop laughing, holding her sides until they ache and she's breathless with tears streaming down her face. It's just like Battleship Bay during that first golden hour, her senses suddenly gloriously full as she never thought they'd be again. The sun streaming down through the cafe awning and warming her skin. The taste of a sip of espresso, across a tongue she thought would never taste again. And the music.
It's not like before, when a song would take her and the whole world would join in, even the birds. No, this is just a piano playing disjointed notes from somewhere nearby. Which is potentially fascinating, because as far as she can see there isn't anyone else here. Elizabeth pushes herself back from the table and stands, turning until she can tell which direction it's coming from and then stepping off in that direction. Of course, if there was somebody else here there was a good chance it meant trouble, but that didn't slow her steps. The need to find out, to know wins out over her fears, the same as always.
She wanders through the streets, following the music as it slowly increases in volume and starts assembling itself into a melody. She stops when she recognizes it and bows her head, pressing a hand to her forehead until she's sure her eyes are no longer tear-blinded.
Then she's off again. She tries to sing along in time to the clicking of her shoes on the cobblestone streets, but her throat is swollen with tears and at first all she can do is mouth the words. When her voice finally comes it's a strained croak, and it's not until she stops outside an unremarkable wine shop a few blocks away that she can muster something another human being might hear.
Will the circle be unbroken,
By and by, by and by?
When she sings the first two lines the playing inside the shop stops, and Elizabeth's heart stops with it. But then the piano player picks up the melody again, and she smiles as they finish the chorus.
Is a better home awaiting
In the sky, in the sky?
The piano keeps going into the next verse, but instead of following it she pushes the door to the shop open.
And stops dead. Blinks, eyes wide and mouth open, as she tries to process what she's seeing. Because in an infinite universe, what she was seeing was one of the only things she thought was flat-out impossible. There was simply no way it could be Zachary Comstock playing the piano. But there he was, turning around to face her with as grave a face as ever. All he said was,
"Hello, child. You're late." Elizabeth backs up against the wooden wall, hands pushing backwards for leverage as she barely managed to keep her feet. Her mouth works for a moment before she can get any words out.
"How-" No, that wasn't the question. "Who are you? Because I know you're not Zachary Comstock."
"Am I not?" He lifts his arms and makes a show of examining them, just the slightest hint of an infuriating smirk on his face.
"Don't play games!" Elizabeth pushes herself off the wall, eyes suddenly alight with anger. "Zachary Comstock never even got the chance to exist. And I know, because I took all the Booker DeWitts there ever were and held them underwater at Wounded Knee until they went dead in my arms!"
The Comstock-thing inclines his head to acknowledge the point. "That you did."
"And when one got away, I followed it to that undersea hellhole and ended him with a mining drill!"
"Yes. I imagine it hurt a great deal, though I can't say so myself."
"So who the hell are you then?"
"I'm Zachary Comstock." Before she can start up again he holds up a hand, waving her into silence like a Biblical patriarch. "But not simply one of them. I am…a composite, I suppose. Nearly all the Comstocks, and not a few Booker DeWitts as well. They are all part of me."
"But they're dead. All of them!" Elizabeth can't bite her tongue any longer- she's willing to put up with a little blather if it means the world starts making sense again, but this is going nowhere.
Comstock sighs. "Child-"
"No." She holds up a finger, stabbing it down at him with every word like a pistol snapping off shots. "You don't get to call me that. Whoever or whatever you are, if any part of you is Comstock then I'm no child of yours. Now start. Talking!"
Comstock draws a hand to his forehead, and for a moment she thinks she can actually see hurt in the old man's eyes. "As you wish." He draws in a deep breath. "You sought to end me across the universe and you did. But you see, we are no longer within the universe."
"Then where-"
"After." She goes silent as he says that word, looking down at him with wide eyes. "We are in the After."
Oh.
Oh. And all the tension goes out of her chest, because she knows it's the truth and has ever since she woke up.
After a long moment, she's the one to break the silence. "I have to admit. When I thought about…this. Which wasn't often. I didn't expect to end up in the same place as you."
"Oh, you needn't worry about that." Comstock turns back to the piano. "This is only the parlor, so to speak. Your path lies that way." He waves his hand towards the back of the shop, bowing his head. "And I shan't be joining you. It's not permitted. Now or ever."
Elizabeth stares at the door to the back of the shop. It's made of wood, painted dark green and hanging slightly crooked, with nary a glimmer of gold or a single pearl in sight. Doesn't at all look the part. But she takes a step towards it, and another, until she's got her hand around the black iron doorknob. And much as she wants to turn it, she can't quite manage it. Because this is it, the irrevocable step.
"Go ahead." Comstock's voice breaks into her thoughts. "You've got someone waiting on you."
Elizabeth half-turns towards him. "And who would that be?"
"Booker DeWitt. A surprising percentage of them, actually, mostly from timelines where your paths crossed." His voice is suddenly so soft she can barely hear. "And a few- a precious few- Zachary Comstocks who realized their folly during life, and did what they could to make things right. They're all in there." He looks up at her, old eyes swimming with tears. "And I'm not. Do you see?"
Elizabeth nods. "I'm sorry." The words take her by surprise, but as she searches inside herself she finds there's no hate or anger left. Only pity, for a man who had to lie on the bed he'd made, forever.
Comstock nods and puts his hands back on the keyboard, starting up the same hymn. And with it playing in the background, Elizabeth finally turns the doorknob and gets her first glimpse of the other side.
What she sees there makes her burst out laughing, joy lighting her face as she steps over the threshold.