First things first: warnings and disclaimer!

Of course I don't own this series. It belongs to 2K. Yes this is Booker/Beth romance. Yes, this contains incest. Yes, its probably very gross to you. Yes, you should read another fanfic if this disgusts you.

Hello all! Okay now for some notes. To those who you who read my first story this is the direct sequel to it. I decided to put my brain and heart back to work and create something that would bring you guys smiles, frowns, and everything in between. I loved that you guys loved my first story and I want to see if can attempt to pull off another mind bending fanfic. I have a big plot planned. But first I would love your input. I hope I gave you guys a good length of words to enjoy.

Now for those who haven't read the first one and is interested in this. Please read the first one as it is crucial to the development of my series and will answer your confusion if you decide to read. *sigh* yes that obviously contains incest as well. This is a story of Booker and Elizabeth and their romantic relationship. Built from the original universe. Not and AU or a one shot. It is direct continuation.

Rated T for now. lol

Thanks to my readers: SCB, The Writer With A Mouth, and others whom helped me in this endeavor. Your ideas and thoughts greatly helped me and influenced me.

As always, enjoy.

Chapter 1

Ideas

It was evening, Friday evening; just before the glorious Parisian sunset. Summer was here to stay apparently. The warm tones and colors consumed all of Paris and its denizens. It wasn't such a horrible phase, quite the contrary actually. People appeared livelier, brighter, and of course more romantic. Music could be heard behind every corner of the streets and love permeated the air like a thick fog. Couples relished in the uncommon presence of a long summer; more smooches, more romantic dinners outdoors, and more fun was certainly received blissfully by everyone, even for someone like Booker Dewitt. Happiness and cheerfulness seemed to be welcomed by every living being in Paris. It was an extended breath of fresh air. However, this wasn't quite so for the hero of Elizabeth. All seemed perfect; almost all except for the draining and pestering reminder of the sour anticipation of his impending doom. It wasn't death, horror, or even anything terrible, but it sure felt like it. Hour by hour, day by day; his heart relentlessly brooded. Restlessness became his close friend as the weeks crept closer and closer to D-day. It was what he named it: the day when all hell would figuratively breaks loose. "God damn it…" he grumbled as he leaned his forehead on the window. The view of children happily trotting about below sure as hell didn't help.

Hmm children… Elizabeth. Elizabeth's baby. My child's child? ... I'm having a baby with my own baby. Jesus Christ this is all fucked up. I gotta do something, fast. But what and how?

Elizabeth's baby was coming, and there's not a damn thing he could do about it. Not like he really had a choice anyway. The nightmares of him holding Elizabeth's baby visited him every night like bad unwanted movie sequels. It caused him slight confusion. Sometimes he would find himself breaking out of a night's rest in a cold sweat. 'What would I even call myself?' were the thoughts he would ponder during those unpleasant nights. What should he call himself? He couldn't determine whether he'd should be called dad, or grandfather, or even double dad. The thoughts always led to cursing and then a trip to the bathroom followed by a midnight cigarette.

Everything seemed to remind him of Elizabeth's baby. The clouds looked like fluffy pillows for the child. The Siene River resembled milk and of course, milk reminded him of breast feeding. Children reminded him of children, and even random birds brought visions of a very strange family that he has created. He was beginning to go stir-crazy. The incessant reminder of the unbearable future began to knock him a little silly. Despite the date of Elizabeth giving birth was still a ways to go, the burning images constantly wrestled with his heart and tugged at his mind. He had to do something, but what? He couldn't bare seeing his daughter be sad, let alone heart broken. No, even a hint of disappointment in her face would make him cringe. He wouldn't forgive himself if he hurt her again. Jumping through the tear back to their own dimension was his promise to her that he would never hurt her again. Those tears that flowed from her eyes were like sharp needles that pierced his heart. A month and a half has passed since he joined her in their world. That was the last time he saw her cry and he planned to keep it that way. The memory of Elizabeth desperately sobbing added weight to his eyelids. He shut them in shame and regret. Leaving her was out of the question. It would have defeated the purpose of his arrival, rendering everything meaningless and would bring forth nothing but death. He opened his eyes in search of ideas and inspiration from anything in his view. Booker needed a plan, an idea that would keep Elizabeth happy but render their relationship platonic. He scanned his environment meticulously. Unfortunately there was nothing he could find that would inspire him to change his circumstance. With a heavy sigh and frown he stared at the Eiffel Tower, contemplating his situation. He still loved her deeply, more than a daughter. Yet he also disliked it. He wanted to travel on the path of righteousness and stick to morality as much as he could, but it was extremely difficult. A sacrifice would have to be made from either parties. It was Booker who laid down the first sacrifice. He forsook his morality and accompanied her to Paris. The first week was quite agreeable but the following weeks proved problematic. The lingering conviction of right and wrong eventually became clear as day. He never had the time to think his decision through but what did he really expect from himself. The Luteces stated that it was and is a constant that will not change. The child will be born. He followed his heart. He loved her and wanted her to be happy. It wasn't a choice he regrets neither is it a choice he is ashamed of. As time passed, he attempted to slowly resist her. He quickly learned that, that was not possible. She was so irresistible and alluring. Her waist remained tiny and her gut was still flat as ever despite her pregnancy. She was incredibly enticing and desirable. Booker failed often and miserably. There is a deep bond between them that seemed inseparable. He was at war with himself. His circumstances have proved impossible to alter. But Booker was too stubborn to quit. He wanted an answer, a way to resolve this issue. Should he accept it and be her lover? Should he just face the music and dance with the inevitable rhythm? It didn't sit right with him, it never did once he learned the truth. He couldn't pretend that she wasn't his. She showed traits that mirrored him. Booker noticed the details after realizing her true identity. Elizabeth was also stubborn just like him.

Like father like daughter…

She was not going to give him up easily, not without a fight.

I feel like I'm splitting in two… I can't leave but I can't seem to get grip. Her baby, my grandchild. What do I do? It doesn't look like I have much of a choice so I guess I have to bite the bullet. Tough luck I suppose.

Booker observed the children playing down on the streets. It brought to him a slight smile. The streets, lamps, buildings and everything was orange. He had taken notice that the skies slightly shifted colors. The sun had just touched the horizon. Beautiful he thought as he squinted at the gorgeous sun. It was a good end of the week and a great start to the weekend. Maybe it won't be so bad. It'll take time but I'll just have to accept it.

A familiar looking woman caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he looked down to see who it was. It was a lovely woman drawing near to the house. She hugged a paper grocery bag that protruded a baguette. She wore a beautiful summer dress that danced gracefully as the wind brushed by her. Her hair had grown its original length and flew freely in the wind as she walked. She was not only gorgeous, but beautiful. Love radiated from her as if she was goddess. Elizabeth… and just in time for dinner. All of the smiles of Paris couldn't compare to her warm delightful smile. She was happy, truly happy; something she has never had before. Her bird pendant and his ascot never failed to follow her; she wore it every day. She was hopelessly in love with Booker. The branding of "B.D" on the inside of her right wrist proved it all. She paused to gander at the sunset which made the Eiffel Tower like a dazzling symbol of hope from her view. Booker admired her as she tucked her flowing strands of hair behind her ear. Picture perfect. You are so beautiful Elizabeth… He shook his head questioned why did she have to be two things that he loved. He loved her being his daughter and he loved her being his lover, but didn't love the fact that they were one in the same. He couldn't bring himself to reconciliation with the truth. Elizabeth clearly accomplished that task as effortlessly as blinking. He pondered, how could she have done it so easily? It baffled his mind. As she was approaching the house, she smiled at everyone. She was so friendly. He could see her waving and greeting anybody that passed by. It was a part of her that he appreciated, something that he did not have: cheerful friendliness.

I suppose I am proud to be her father. She is a good woman… He thought but then an idea came to his mind like a pleasant delivery. W-Wait! I got an idea! If I can get her to have an ounce of disgust in our relationship, I can work that to pound. I just need to act more like a father. Yeah, I have you now Elizabeth.

Booker smirked mischievously as he walked downstairs to the kitchen table and sat down proceeding to read the newspaper. With a plan in mind he confidently smiled as he pretended to read the morning papers. Mere seconds pass before the sound of the door handle turning was heard from where he was. In stepped the beautiful lady returning from her errand. Her melodic humming filled the quiet house. She didn't see him on the couch taking his routine nap from work. "Booker" she called for him with her womanly voice, but with no reply she placed her grocery bad down and called again, "Booker?" He heard her voice beckoning for him and wanted to reply but ignored it all together. This reminded him of his bathroom visit in the Battleship Bay arcade and every other bathroom visit. She would call for him when she perceived he took too long. She wasn't an impatient gal but did not like to be without him for long. So, 'long' for her hovered around 15 seconds. He remembered it clear as day. Her pattern played in his head.

"Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Mr. Dewitt?"

"Just a minute."

"Booker?"

"Hold on!"

Elizabeth's voice tuned to the tone of curiosity as she couldn't hear a reply from her lover. Her inquisitive feet carried her toward the kitchen as she looked for him. "Honey?"

Alright now I just have to play it smooth.

As she walked into the kitchen her face lit up as she saw Booker reading the papers. She noticed it was very late to read the morning papers but shrugged it off. She briskly made her way closer to him with happiness in her voice. "Booker I thought you weren't home." Booker stood up with a stiff posture and spoke with a stern voice, catching her off guard.

"I want you home earlier from now on young lady."

"I... B-But" Elizabeth was startled that Booker would talk to her this way. It caused her to stammer in confusion.

"No excuses, and call me father from now on."

"Oh… A-All right. I just… I'm sorry, I'm usually home by this time but if you want me home earlier, I'll do that. I didn't mean to upset you."

Booker stood with his hand on his hips as he watched Elizabeth speak through her confusion. She wondered what she did to have upset him but she didn't know that he was pretending all along. She walked slowly to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Booker froze and didn't know what to do or say at this point. This is where I'm supposed to scold her but she's too... He thought frantically as his mind scrounged for ideas. Booker's defense completely fell apart when she touched him. She leaned closer to his lips and hovered inches away. He was supposed to be a big daddy with authority but that was beginning to fail. Booker wanted to stop her but couldn't resist her snake like charm. His father idea didn't seem like a good idea anymore. With soft eyes and a warm smile, she apologized, "I'm sorry father. I'll be home earlier…" and seductively kissed his lips. His eyes widened when their lips met. It wasn't something he expected or planned for. She parted lips with him for a second to gaze into his eyes and kissed him again. Booker couldn't help but follow her lead and be entranced. His plan fell apart and he was nothing but speechless. She finished with a kiss on his check and an affectionate touch to his neck then walked to retrieve her grocery bag. "I'll make dinner right away."

This was the dumbest idea I've ever had. Now that didn't go at all as planned... She isn't even mildly disgusted with calling me father or even thinking of me in that way. Shit. What now? That was a little strange to hear her call me that then kiss me.

"Elizabeth," Booker called as he walked over to the couch to lay down.

"Yes, father?" Elizabeth gleefully responded

"On second thought… Just call me Booker. And forget what I said about your curfew."

"Uh, okay," she replied yet with more confusion in her voice.

I don't know how this girl can see me like a father and lover without any difficulty. Liz… you make no sense.

Booker fell to the couch with great exhaustion. A groan escaped from the back of his throat as he remembered how much comfort he absorbed as he sank into the cushions. He scrunched his brows together and agreed to himself that, that was one of his worst plans he's ever created. It made things more strange. He rested his wrist on his forehead and chuckled quietly as he realized how badly his idea backfired. He found it to be humorous as his quiet chuckles grew into laughter. Booker was tired. He should have taken a well-deserved nap instead of pacing around thinking aimlessly. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He wanted to exhale the festering thoughts that plagued his mind day and night. Nothing but air escaped and his feelings remained the same. He closed his eyes for what seemed a second until he felt a familiar loving presence by his side. Elizabeth sat beside him and rested her hand on his chest. He opened his eyes to see the caring face he loved so much. She was so beautiful to him with her hair down and untied. Booker smiled in return to see Elizabeth offering him a dinner and a drink. I must have slept for almost an hour. He slowly sat up to receive her kindness. Suddenly he felt woozy and a headache became apparent. Something about him didn't feel right but he ignored the sensation as he reached for the cup. "Here drink, you'll feel better," Elizabeth said as she reached for his forehead. As he brought it closer he realized it was dark in color. "This isn't booze. What is this?" Booker curiously asked.

"It's medicine. Booker you haven't been feeling well. You've been talking in your sleep lately, even waking up during the night. And your fever hasn't gotten better."

Slightly surprised Booker made eye contact and asked, "How did you know that?"

"Did you forget that I'm a light sleeper? Last night I waited until you feel asleep again. Then I felt your body. You were burning. And just a second ago you've acted a little strange toward me. I'm a little worried about you."

Booker hadn't really noticed his fever. All of the pain from bullets, bruises, and shrapnel numbed his senses. He grew accustomed to discomfort and a fever felt normal to him. He's felt a much hotter sensation from being scorched by Devil's Kiss. A fever was like ice in comparison. That would explain his cold sweats at night. He pointed his nose to the cup and sniffed the medicine. Immediately, he cringed. The powerful odor singed his nostrils. He could feel his nose hairs charring from the vapors. It had to be one of the strongest and awful smelling medicine he's ever smelled.

"Ugh. No thanks," he said as he coldly rejected the medicine. He nudged the cup back to Elizabeth but she knew he was going to deny it. She looked at him skeptically and pouted her lips.

"No Booker, you need to drink it. I'm not going to have you sick and dying on me," Elizabeth said with a slightly firm voice.

Booker raised a brow as he remembered how much she's changed since he's met her. He had almost forgotten that she had killed in cold blood and is still capable of doing so if the situation called for it. She is just like me it's almost scary. He pressed his palm on his forehead and noticed that it was slightly warmer. "Hm" He grunted and proceeded to drink but hesitated as the intrusive smell invaded his nose again. He quickly tipped the cup to allow the 'medicine' to flow down his throat. He might as well called it poison because nothing came close to how strong it tasted. The feeling was similar to drinking a vigor but not as potent. He almost gagged from the taste of bitterness, mixed with all sorts of herbs he has never tasted before. With one swig he finished his dose and clenched his teeth together from its disgusting flavor. She smiled and handed him his dinner. That was a relief to his eyes. It looked and even smelled better. He needed something to substitute the horrid aftertaste it left behind.

He immediately agreed to eat his dinner. It was Soupe à L'oignon, one of their favorites and was easy to go eat, especially on sick days. He was delighted to see it. God she's an amazing cook. He thought as he sipped the soup. She's definitely what every guy would want. "Elizabeth, you are an amazing cook." She smiled and happily received his compliment and affirmation. She started to enjoy her portion with him then suddenly the atmosphere became a bit romantic. Elizabeth scooped some of her soup and brought her spoon to his mouth. Booker was far from the definition of romanticism and thought it her gesture was too corny and cliché. He looked at her and raised a brow. She knew what that meant and disappointedly look away and withdrew her spoon. He knew what she was feeling; rejection and disappointment. But he loved her, he truly did. So he circumvented his unromantic predisposition and spoke, "Of course, I would love some Liz." Her face brightened as she slipped the spoon in his mouth. He almost rolled his eyes as the moment between them became very mushy. He smiled and continued eating his portion.

After they had finished, Elizabeth took their bowls to the kitchen to tidy up. Booker laid back down and rested his eyes. Being a private detective was hard work, very hard work. Some days he wished he'd chosen another career. His thoughts wandered to strange lands as he laid there motionless. He thought about Elizabeth's mother who died during delivery. He loved her but never loved her like he loved Elizabeth. The concoction of disgusting medicine and the delicious food began to mess with his thoughts. He started to compare the two ladies. He compared their looks, their personality, their tastes, and everything else in between. She paled in comparison to Elizabeth. He scoffed and almost chuckled as he realized she became her better replacement. No woman ever came close to Elizabeth. For once, he felt at ease and agreed that he truly had treasure in his hands, a gem that no one else had and wanted.

By the time Booker's thoughts ascended into neverland, Elizabeth had grabbed a new book that she bought earlier and sat at the other couch to read. The book drew her interest. It was called Summer by Edith Wharton. She opened the pages and delved into her book as Booker began to fade into sleep.

Elizabeth read several pages but couldn't focus on her new book. Anxiousness and anticipation occupied her mind and heart. She couldn't believe that she was going to have a child. Everything else was dim in comparison to the light of her life: her baby, and the love of her life: Booker. She was happy and complete. Every day that she lived was like heaven and every breath she took was in gratitude for the new life she lived. She quietly set her book aside and rested her hand on her belly and smiled. There was no happier person in Paris or the world. It made her years of suffering worth it. She reminisced on the adventures they endured together in Columbia. The pleasant memories of the past blanketed her with peace. The painful recollections of her torture, suffering, and depression couldn't penetrate her aura. If she had a halo, every person would marvel at her angelic joyful radiance.

She fell in love, hopelessly deep in love. She was never presented options to choose who she wanted. The universe and its mysteries perplexed her. Like Booker, she wondered if it was all chance or was meant to be. She loved him though and regrets nothing but instead, wished that Booker would completely accept their fate just like she did. Elizabeth openly embraced the truth and gladly accepted it. She glanced over to her lover and appreciated his fair stature. The image of Booker sleeping soundly brought fond feelings of hopeful love and adoration. She was completely devoted; nothing could tear her apart from him. She remembered the first time he hurt her. She came back to him without hesitation. If unconditional love existed, she had it. Elizabeth possessed an unfathomable dedication to her lover. It was a connection not found anywhere, not even between classical lovers. The night when she gave him the gift of her virginity visited her mind. She closed her eyes and replayed the promises and love they shared on that mystical night. He was her first and her last. Magical love stories couldn't be proven more real in Elizabeth. Even the stars and northern lights were jealous of the shining brilliance that sparkled unremittingly from her heart. Nothing was lovelier or brighter.

Booker, I love you… So much, more than you know. One day you'll come to fully accept me. And when you do, I'll be right here waiting for you.

Without a second thought, she moved herself over to Booker and laid down beside him. She made a good choice when she bought that large couch. They both fit on there with just enough room to spare. Elizabeth rested her head on his large arm and dug into his embrace as he rolled to hold her. A sensual moan escaped her lips as she closed her eyes from the comfort.

Hours passed and they slept far into the night. It was about 2 in the morning when Booker woke up from his sleep. That was the first night since forever he had slept well. His eyes slowly opened to find the room dark and quiet. He found that she had laid next to him. Her love never ceased to amaze him as he figured she would prefer a more comfortable bed upstairs but instead chose to be by his side. Booker stroked her soft long hair as he began to appreciate her love a little bit more. It troubled him. She needed someone to fully love her without discrimination or hesitation. He paused and observed the light from the street lamps that painted the ceiling. There was enough light for him to see the clock tell time. He was tired enough to fall back asleep but decided to go for a mid-night walk. He quietly and gently extracted his arm from under her head and snuck out of her warmth. The decision had to be made. He had to accept this truth but needed to be alone to meld this reality to his heart. He slipped on some shoes and a trench coat and made sure Elizabeth was asleep before walking through the front door.

Paris, still as pretty as ever. Streetlamps everywhere. The city was a sight to behold. It was a silent beauty. He started his stride of solitude alongside the Siene River. The Eiffel Tower caught his attention, reminding him of the beacon of hope Elizabeth had. It symbolized him. "Hm" he grunted as he kept walking. The streets were seemingly empty save for a few stragglers here and there. He leisurely paced near the stone railings as he walked from block to block. He had half expected the Luteces to appear any minute during his walk but no one bothered him. He never was fond of them but didn't mind their witty remarks or their brain power. He could use their scientific answers right then. It was too bad that they were gone for good. Booker paused to stare at the magnificent tower of lights and contemplated. He couldn't completely absolve himself of the nagging thought of morality. Why can't I just accept things the way they are? I've done plenty of wrong in my life so this shouldn't be so hard. What is holding me back? Just before he got lost in his thoughts somebody called for his attention.

"Psst, hey you. Mister. I got something for you that you might find interesting."

Booker turned around to match the voice to the face. It was someone he didn't know, just a plain ol' shop keeper. What does this guy want? He thought as he read the sign above the shop: 'Lonnie's confectionaries and souvenirs.'

"Hey pal, not interested."

"Oh but you will," the shop keeper said as he walked inside. Booker reluctantly followed him inside but only to politely decline his offer. He wanted to practice mannerism and kindness; something Elizabeth really liked the first time she saw him express it in public. As soon as he stepped in, the shop keeper spoke before he had a chance to utter a single word.

"I see that you are a troubled man that is in need of a solution. I think this formula will do you quite nicely."

"Look I already told you, I'm not interested."

"Then why did you follow me here?" he asked with a sly tone.

"To politely..."

"Politely accept my gift perhaps?"

Booker began to get bit annoyed by his persistency, but just for the sake of curiosity, he approached the counter to a peculiar bottle. It was small in form and wasn't very interesting to look at. There was no label for him to read from, just a plain small glass bottle with a cork.

"You must be a man looking for growth. Hair growth? This formula will work most definitely"

Booker replied with an almost sarcastic tone, "Does it look like I need any help growing hair?"

"Oh but of course not that. This is meant to create distance between you and anyone else you desire. Apply it once and voila. Nobody likes a hairy bear."

"You've got to be kidding me…"

"Take the sample. Try it and you will see my friend."

"Right. I'm not your friend and this was a complete waste of my time," he uttered as he proceeded toward the exit. The shop keeper called for his attention and tossed him the sample. Booker caught the bottle and rolled his eyes as the shop keeper winked at him and walked to back room. Booker stepped out and studied the bottle once more. The chemical was odorless and colorless. He wouldn't be surprised if it was just water. It didn't matter to him as it was free anyway. Booker pocketed the potion, lit a cigarette, and headed back home. He felt tired and wanted to sleep. What kind of place is open in the middle of the night? He wondered as he approached his front door. He expected Elizabeth to greet him with a grimace but she was still sound asleep when he slowly opened the door. Just like a baby, he thought as he made his way to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection and rubbed his chin. Mischievous thoughts entered his mind and a smirk appeared. It was free, might as well try it. He applied a generous amount to his stubble and tossed the bottle out the window. This will definitely get Elizabeth to dislike me. If disgust doesn't work, then a hairy old man should. She'll find me unattractive in no time. Booker chuckled as he got undressed. He snuck his way to the couch and wiggled his way back into her arms. He laid there with renewed confidence and smiled at the ceiling. "Where were you?" Elizabeth quietly whispered. Her eyes were still closed as she laid on his chest. "Cigarette break" Booker hesitantly replied. "You took a while," she whispered once more before falling back asleep. Damn, she doesn't miss a thing. Booker fell fast into sleep.

Morning came and light crept into his eyes, waking him up. Elizabeth however was unaffected by the sunrise. He opened his eyes and saw that it was quite early in the morning. Yesterday night's event popped in his mind and instantly he remembered the potion he applied. I wonder if it worked, he thought as he reached to rub his chin with his free arm. Interestingly enough, his beard had grown out, all the way out. To Booker's surprise, he had realized he was sporting a gentleman beard. It was actually much longer and was more like a homeless man beard. There you are you son of a bitch. I'll be damned. It actually worked. With a smile, he closed his eyes again and couldn't wait for Elizabeth's reaction. He decided to relax for a bit more and enjoyed her company.

The hairy coarse bush that protruded from Booker's jaw tickled Elizabeth's forehead and she reached to scratch her head. It felt different and unfamiliar to her. She had thought it was her own hair irritating her but to her bewilderment she reached up further to feel what it was. Half asleep, she felt the grainy feeling of a beard. Suddenly her eyes jetted open as she realized it might have been someone else. What? What is this? Booker? Oh my god, is it a theif?! She quickly looked up and to her horror she shrieked. The random and unexpected high pitch scream shook Booker, flinching him out of his relaxed state. She scrambled off of the couch and stumbled on the floor as she couldn't believe what she saw. Booker was still dazed to realize Elizabeth was no longer with him but panicking 6 feet away.

"Oh my god! N-No it can't be! Comstock?! I… I don't understand! Where's Booker?! How did you... No!"

Booker sat up and tried to calm the frightened woman. He tried to approach Elizabeth but she screamed and reached for anything she can get her hands on.

"Elizabeth wait! It's okay! It's me!"

"Get away from me!" She shouted as she tossed a book at him. He braced as she book hit his arm, deflecting his face. Another book flew toward him and hit his chest.

"Where's my Booker?! What did you do to him?!" she demand as she reached for her expensive vase with intention of chucking it at him.

"Elizabeth it's me, Booker!"

"You're a liar!" she shouted as she lifted her hands readying to toss the vase.

"Elizabeth don't throw that. That's your favorite vase!" Booker pleaded to the panicking woman. It was too late and the vase came at him in high speed. Instead of dodging it, he frantically tried to catch it. Luckily he caught it with his fingertips but fell trying to get a good grip.

"Elizabeth! Would you cut it out?! Knock it off!"

"You are Comstock! How did you get in my house? I need to find Booker!" She said as she tossed a basket of flowers at him which hit him directly in the forehead. She attempted to escape and bolted to the door.

"Elziabeth. I'm not Comstock! I mean, I am… but I'm not!" Shit shouldn't have said that!

Booker reached for her arm and grabbed it but Elizabeth punched him and swung her shin between his legs. Booker immediately recognized this pattern so he instantly tried to cushion the blow by blocking her leg with his hand. It didn't help much as her kick was powerful enough to knock a man unconscious. He fell to the floor as he felt like he'd been shot. She darted through the front door and screamed Booker's name.

"Elizabeth wait!" Booker tried to yell but only a squeak escaped his mouth as he laid there squirming from the pain. He looked up through the doorway and saw that Elizabeth started to run. Booker struggled to get up and run after her. It was similar to wrestling with an alligator hoping to win. Eventually he got himself up and limped to the doorway. With no time to get dressed he started to waddle quickly after Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth! You're not even dressed! Wait! Come back!"

"Stay away!"

People looked at Elizabeth as if she was crazy. She had done this before only over a month ago. Children and their mother's mouths gaped as they witnessed a young lady running in her night gown followed by a half-naked bearded man seconds later. Some men started to laugh while others grumbled at the indecency. Elizabeth ran to the main walkway where she was greeted by the Siene River. She frantically looked around for Booker and shouted his name drawing everyone's attention. She looked over her shoulder to realize Booker was drawing near. She noticed a policeman approach her and immediately without hesitation reached for his pistol. Caught by surprise the officer tried to calm the young lady down but she had aimed her gun at Booker whom was only meters away.

"Don't come near me or I'll shoot him."

A crowed gathered around as they saw that the situation had swiftly turned from comedic to serious. Booker limped his way to Elizabeth and froze in front of her. He raised his hands in surrender as he stared into the barrel of the gun.

"Not another step closer!" she ordered.

"Comstock! I killed you. How did you come back? Why do you exist?"

She hadn't realized the crowd around them or her indecency. Her stare was too intense and her anger was too fierce. She was breathing heavily and it was apparent to him the gravity of this situation. Booker tried to move his mouth to calm the overly angry woman but couldn't say a word.

"The only reason that you're alive is because I need to you to tell me where Booker is…"

Booker had never seen her this determined and powerful before. It swept him by surprise. He was speechless.

"Answer me! Where is Booker?! What did you do with him?"

"Woah, Elizabeth just take it easy I'm him. I'll prove it."

She squinted her eyes with skepticism. Booker was the mirror image of the prophet, except without a shirt. The crowd and policeman watched carefully for her next move. The officer tried once more to approach her but she warned him again that if he took another step, she'd fire.

"Elizabeth? I was with you in Columbia. We danced at battleship bay. We fought Comstock and the Vox together."

"That's not enough. How do I know you're not just another version of Comstock or someone that spied on Booker and me? Huh?"

"Elizabeth, think for a second. Look," Booker slowly spoke as he pointed to his scar from the knife and A.D."

Confused and angry, she questioned, "Then how did you grow that… revolting beard overnight? That's impossible!"

"Elizabeth, you of all people should be familiar with strange and impossible things; like tears, a floating city, and a sunken city."

When the crowed heard him speak nonsense about a floating city, they instantly considered the two drunk. It was just a drunk father with his angry daughter in their eyes.

"That doesn't explain your beard. Ugh! What's our code?"

"Elizabeth, there's nowhere I can…"

"What is it?!" she demanded.

Booker balled up his fist brought it to his heart. He looked at her dead in the eyes as he knocked twice, paused then knocked again. Elizabeth still couldn't believe it was really him but slowly lowered her gun and exhaled. She handed the gun over to the officer and stomped toward Booker. She shoved him and shouted, "Don't ever scare me like that again!" With her hand on her heart, she tried to calm her nerves.

The crowd slowly dispersed and the cop walked to them and proceeded with a question, "Sir? Who is this young woman? Do you want me to arrest her?"

Booker quickly responded, "No, it's okay. She's my…"

"Fiancé… I'm his fiancé," Elizabeth said as she interrupted his explanation.

The cop raised his brows and nodded in surprise followed by approval. "Not bad there chap. Found yourself a very young one I see, and a fierce one at that."

"Now for the sake of the people, please go back home and get dressed. I'll let this one slide." He said as he began to walk away.

Elizabeth gave Booker the look he hadn't seen in a very long time. Booker dismissed that overburdening thought and took her hand to lead her back home.

That was an absolute disaster… My ideas keep getting worse and worse. I have to come up with another idea. Time for plan B. Okay first I gotta make things right. But I admit, it was sort of funny.

Booker chuckled a little as they made their way back.

"This isn't funny," Elizabeth muttered.

"You're right it's not funny," Booker replied half agreeing with her. So he tried laughing in his head but it escaped through his mouth.

What is wrong with him? Why is he acting so strange to me? First he tried to act fatherly, then decides not to, then he goes out in the middle of the night to fetch a beard? Is he still sick? Argh! I don't understand him sometimes.

"Booker! You almost gave me a heart attack. When we get home, you're shaving that right off."

"Of course, Liz. I'm sorry."

..

PM/Review if you guys like it. I'd love to hear your thoughts! I don't want to write a sequel where no one is interested in. :/