Inspired by the Steven Universe episode "Mindful Education" and the song "Here comes a thought" also from that episode.
DISCLAIMER: I am not erasing the fact that Booker is a horrible garbage can of a person. What he's done is just, awful and unforgivable. However, he did sacrifice himself in the end to save the multiverse, and I want my smols to be happy. I'm just putting in an extra thing, that I would think Elizabeth would do. I also blame Steven Universe, and making "Here Comes a Thought" such a great song. So, in late celebration of the Bioshock Collection's release, here is my first Bioshock fanfic!
I do not own Bioshock
"I have no idea how this is supposed to help me." I thought as I sat on my worn out, creaky bed in my dark, messy, apartment. Some fancy doctor said she could help me deal with my past, I was now waiting for her to come to my house. It was strange, I have no idea how she knew about me. Apparently this Doctor Comstock, is seeing if some therapy she came up with will help soldiers cope with the horrors of war. Thing is, I wouldn't consider myself a veteran from some glorious war in the name of America.
She, sort of just showed up at my door, and asked if I would be a part of her experiment. I was about to say no, until she said she'd pay me. Honestly, I don't deserve any of this, especially with what happened at Wounded Knee, and now some random lady Doctor thinks she has to help me, or can?
I laid down on my bed and just stared at the ceiling. Then at that moment, there was a knock at my door.
*Knock, Knock*
"Hello? Mr. Dewitt? It's me, Dr. Comstock! I'm here for your therapy session!" a soft yet chipper voice called from behind the door.
Hmm, about time.
"Don't worry, I'm coming." I grumbled as I eventually slid myself off the bed.
*Knock, Knock*
"Why is she being so damn persistent with the knocking?" I mumbled to myself as I was getting to the door; did she not hear me?
Once I reached the door, I opened it, and light flooded the dark room. There she was, the mysterious doctor was wearing a blue dress and a white and blue dress shirt. Her hair was brown, and had cobalt blue eyes, she looked no older than twenty, and she was holding a leather bag.
"Hello Mr. Dewitt, sorry about being late." She said.
"Well, come in doctor." I said politely, holding the door open for her. As soon as she was in, I closed the door, and the room was dark once again.
Dr. Comstock looked around the room, a slightly depressed look coming across her face. That didn't surprise me, that was the usual reaction from people when they came over. Which is why I don't invite anyone over anymore.
The good doctor walked around aimlessly, examining various things I had lying around, or hanging on the walls. Her expression saddened more and more as she examined the room, especially when she saw my military medals. I could've sworn I heard her whisper, "This is the cause."
"Um, doc? Would you like a seat?" I asked her.
She turned to me and replied.
"Yes Mr. Dewitt, we should get started."
I pulled up a chair, and put it next to my bed. She seated herself onto the chair, placing the leather bag onto the floor with a soft thud, and I sat down onto the bed letting it give out a soft creak.
"Alright Mr. Dewitt, please tell me a bit about yourself."
"You can call me Booker, ma'am." I said.
Dr. Comstock shook her head.
"No offense Mr. Dewitt, but I'd rather not develop a personal connection with my patients."
"Aren't you a therapist?" I asked, confused, and then she sighed before replying.
"Mr. Dewitt, I meant a deep personal connection. I want to keep this purely professional."
"Makes sense." I said with a shrug. The doctor then pulled out a clipboard and pen from the leather bag.
"Now that we're done with introductions, let's begin." She said. "You participated in the battle of Wounded Knee two months ago, correct?"
My throat choked up, and I swallowed before answering.
"Yes…. I was there."
"You were in the 7th Cavalry regiment right?"
I just nodded "yes" in response. I had no idea she was just going to flat out ask me about my military record. I assumed she knew already, since apparently she got my information from military records.
She looked up from her clipboard.
"Mr. Dewitt, just tell me if my questions are too much. I just want to confirm your information."
"Ok doc." I muttered.
She looked back down at her clipboard again, eyes opening wide.
"Oh god, I hope that is a mistake with the numbers." She whispered to herself.
"You alright Dr. Comstock?" I asked, but she just sat there, with a horrified expression. "Ma'am? Miss? You ok?" I asked again.
"I didn't know that…" she whispered again. She then slowly looked up from her clipboard and just, stared at me, with an expression of fear.
"Sorry, let's just skip that portion. Now it's clear to me that you defiantly have, issues with dealing with your past." She explained. "How have you been coping so far? Take all the time you need to answer."
I sat there silently for a while, thinking of how to answer. As I sat there, the doctor kept reviewing her clipboard, and talking to herself. It was hard to hear what she was saying, but I heard some words. Columbia, Zachary Comstock, and Luteces, just to name a few.
"Well…...I have been going to Church. I was going to go get baptized today…." I said, and on the word "baptized", she quickly looked back at me.
"Today?" she asked.
"Yes, today." I answered, "After this therapy thing in fact."
"When do you have to go?" she continued to ask, voice going hoarse.
"In an hour. You said the other day that the session would be an hour long." I answered again.
"Hmm, that complicates things, I'll have to work faster then. I was hoping to spread this out over multiple sessions, but now I only have an hour to work with."
"You can come back other times." I suggested.
"No, I have to do this here and now." She said adamantly. "I've wasted enough time; I'm going to do my best."
I still don't understand why she couldn't just come back later, or why she was so curious about the baptism. Maybe it would've made her therapy worthless, maybe she wasn't really religious, I doubt I'll ever know.
"Now Mr. Dewitt, what happened before the battle?" she asked.
"Doc, I don't really see how that is relevant to helping me." I said.
"It matters a lot; it helps me find out what you were thinking beforehand. The general morale, what the authority figures there did to improve or diminish morale, etc." Dr. Comstock explained. "Anything obviously negative or positive directly towards you?"
"I remember," I paused. "I remember being afraid, afraid that I was going to be dead within the next hour. I told some of the other soldiers my feelings, thoughts of home, hopes, dreams. Then one of the sergeants caught on."
Doctor Comstock was busy writing onto her clipboard.
"Fear is a common feeling among members of the military, especially younger soldiers." She said. "Please continue Mr. Dewitt, what did the sergeant do?"
"He…...well…..." I stuttered. "When we were preparing for the battle, he had us all lined up. He called my name, I stepped forward, and…."
"and...?"
"He accused me of having Indian blood, in front of the entire regiment." I stated.
"So…...then in the battle you….?" She asked quietly.
"Yes…...I…." I paused again, and I remained silent.
Dr. Comstock then placed her hand on my shoulder.
"Mr. Dewitt I'm sorry, I didn't know that…." She said in a calm voice, I then took her hand off my shoulder.
"I don't deserve pity, or sympathy." I said. "What I did…. was…...was just evil."
"Yes, what you did failed to be charming." She confirmed, "But you shouldn't let your thoughts swarm you like this."
"Doctor, I think we should just stop." I said sternly, getting up from my bed.
"I must insist that we continue the session." She replied, gesturing me to sit back down. "You must learn to forgive yourself, but not completely."
That really confused me, forgiving yourself, but not really forgiving yourself. Was that really possible?
Dr. Comstock must've seen the look on my face, because she started to explain.
"Yes what you did was horrible, but if you completely forgive yourself completely, you risk forgetting the mistakes you made that got you to the point of hating yourself. If you continue this destructive path of completely hating yourself, then you'll never move on. Ever." She paused, as if it was difficult for her to continue talking to me like this. "You'll fall down a pit few are able to get out of, alcoholism, gambling, debt, the works. People who regret their past actions often indulge in such things."
"That sounds very specific and extreme." I said to her, I noticed that she looked like she was about to cry. "Doctor, would you like something to wipe your nose?"
"What?" she replied, coming back to the present. "Um, no thank you Mr. Dewitt. We have work to do."
"Then continue Doctor, I'll try to persevere." I said as I sat back down.
"Good, let's resume." She sighed with relief. "Did you know one of the best ways to convey emotion is to sing? Perhaps we can use music to make it easier for us to discuss your problems."
"I know how to play the guitar, so maybe we can." I said, surprised by her suggestion. "I'm not really a singing kind of person though."
"That's alright, I'll start, and you can join in whenever you want." She said, then she started looking through her bag again as I got up to grab my guitar. When I got back, she had some sheet music. "Just play these cords."
I nodded "yes" in response, and then she took a couple of quick breaths, and began singing.
"Take a moment to think of just, flexibility, love, and trust. Take a moment to think of just…"
This strange doctor could actually sing very well, and the song, well, I don't know how to describe it but, I thought through my past as she sang.
"What someone said, and how it harmed you. Something you did, that failed to be charming. Things that you've done are, suddenly swarming…"
I just kept thinking about what happened, feeling like crap, but then another line she said was,
"Take a moment to ask yourself if, this is how we fall apart. But it's not. But it's not. But it's not…."
I guess my feelings ran deep, because before I realized it, I was singing along too.
"Here comes a thought, that might alarm me…"
It pretty much became a duet, who knew singing helped someone think about their problems, and afterward calm them down?
After a minor solo part at the end, I looked at Dr. Comstock, she was actually smiling.
"That was, strangely liberating." I noted.
"Good, so, how do you feel about yourself now?" she asked.
"Only slightly better than when we started." I said with a heavy sigh. "I'm a hopeless case Doctor. Only God can save me now."
"Hey, don't give up now! This is good progress; you just need another nudge." Dr. Comstock in a lighthearted tone, her sky blue eyes staring at me. "You can get through this."
"Doctor, it's about time for me to leave." I said, looking up at a clock hanging on one of the walls of my apartment. "You can come back tomorrow ok?"
Dr. Comstock hung her head low, eyes closed, hands resting on clipboard, and sighed.
"I really hoped it wouldn't come to this." She mumbled to herself. "I need to turn things around now, or I've failed." Then she chuckled. "Desperate times call for desperate measures eh?"
I just stared at her in confusion, this woman is probably insane. Perhaps I should get her out of here as soon as possible?
"Dr. Comstock I really have to get going, so can you please leave?" I asked politely.
The Doctor then nodded and got up from her seat. "Of course Mr. Dewitt, I apologize." She said sincerely. Then she put the clipboard and pen carefully back into her leather bag. I escorted her to the front door. Before I was able to say goodbye she turned to me and said the most peculiar thing.
"Booker, do you think a dunk in the river is going to change anything?"
I just stood there, feet rooted to the ground speechless. At first I wanted to shout at her, for daring to ask such an absurd question. Then I started thinking about it, what would this do in retrospect? Dr. Comstock then said something else, just as intriguing.
"Let me rephrase that, what is better, completely forgetting your mistakes and be at risk to repeat them in the future, or remember your mistakes and not repeat them?"
"Well, um…." I started to say, before Dr. Comstock interrupted me.
"It's just a thought Mr. Dewitt." She said with a wink. Then walked into the busy streets of New York. I tried to catch up with her, but it was almost like she disappeared into thin air. Instead of going to the baptism, I returned home and laid in my bed, trying to process what just happened. When she asked me those questions, it seemed like she was older, wiser, beyond her appearance, there was something almost mystical about her.
I never saw Dr. Comstock again after that strange day. I'll never forget her though, because thanks to her, I moved on from my troubled past. It still haunts me, but not as much as before. I met Annabelle Watson, the love of my life, we had a beautiful daughter, but Annabelle didn't survive giving birth to her. So I named the girl "Anna" in memory of her. It was hard getting over Annabelle's death, but I had to, for Anna's sake.
Over the years, sometimes when Anna and I went on our daily walk to the park, sometimes I think I see Dr. Comstock, standing slightly far away from us. As if she was checking up on me, but I've pretty much told myself that is impossible, because she would've at least said "Hi".
Anna is a bright young girl, she loves to read, and constantly asks me questions like "Why is the sky blue?" or "What are clouds and why are they there?" and I'd almost always respond with,
"I'm sorry honey, I am a detective, not a scientist. Do you want to get a book about this later today?"
And she'd nodded her head and exclaim, "I'm going to be the best scientist someday!"
Then later in the day we'd stop by Gene Martin's Bookstore on Mercer street. On this particular day for example, Anna picked up a strange book called "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" and she's been reading it since we got home. By home I mean a not shabby apartment that is in disarray.
So Dr. Comstock, I know you'll probably never hear me say this but, thank you, for everything.