Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Bioshock or any of the related titles. Only my OC and such are my own.

A/N: This is my first attempt at a Bioshock Infinite fanfic. It may not involve some of the major characters (Booker/Elizabeth) in this chapter in particular, however, they will play a very important role. The fact that this world allows for AUs so easily makes it all the more fun. Enjoy.

Chapter One: Newcomer

They said she was the Lamb.

I said it was all a load of bullshit.

Columbia was supposed to be a new haven. We weren't among the first people to be carted via flying machine to meet the "City in the Clouds", but as soon as Mother caught wind of the lifestyle - as soon as she saw the photos of the beautiful buildings, the children playing in the square, the view of the sky - she signed us up for the next flight. As for what Father Comstock believed, we never cared much for it. Mother had her strong opinions, and was known for her loud mouth amongst the women in our community back home. As soon as we boarded our flight, she earned a reputation with the new Columbian citizens as they raved about the Prophet and his high hopes for our futures, and she did nothing more than turn up her nose and scoff.

Perhaps I got it from my Mother, which made me wildly unpopular with the women around town - and the talk of the tavern, if you know what I mean. I bit my tongue during worship, and avoided those in town who preached while stood upon a park bench, however, in small conversation, my oppositions to the beliefs of the Prophet were hardly silenced.

I was twelve when we first set foot on the floating continent of Columbia. In the thirteen or so years between then and now, the environment started to grow on us. I could navigate the mainland with little difficulty, although I was advised to avoid particular areas of lower class. Lower class, of course, meant any non-white, non-American-born citizen. They did little to mask this fact, what with the propoganda strewn all over the sides of the factory buildings and the raids of a little place known as "Shanty Town" sounding over the radios every other weekend. These people, however, were not excluded from being a part of Columbia, despite how they were treated once they arrived here. As Jimmy Larkin, the local bartender, liked to put it: "Someone has to clean the shithouses."

Mother changed, slowly, but surely. She came home one day with and older gentleman she'd met at the Liberty Festival and less than a year later, he was the new head of our household. Shortly after that, she became a regular at the Church, and spent most of her free time - when not praying to Benjamin Franklin or George Washington - who I decreed to be the strangest Gods I had ever laid eyes on - searching for a young man to marry me off to. So far, her suitors were less than acceptable, and I did my part by keeping myself locked away in the old bookshop where I'd been employed since I was considered too mouthy to attend school any longer. If I were to marry, and that didn't look likely - just ask the ladies at Miss Katherine's Hair and Beauty Salon - I would return to the lands below, where things were normal.

As for the girl, she couldn't be much younger than me. The Prophet believed that Lady Comstock gave birth to her after only being in the womb for seven days. We weren't around for the birth of the Lamb - Elizabeth, although no one used her real name - but her birthday was celebrated every year as though it were a national holiday. People claimed to see her out and about, disguised as an old woman, or a school child, but I knew the truth. That girl had not felt the breeze on her skin since before the passing of Lady Comstock. Father Comstock saw to that personally.

I felt bad for the poor girl, whoever she was. I did not believe her to be the child of the man so many looked up to. I had read the books. I knew how the human reproductive system worked. Even with the help of a nameless God, it didn't make any sense.

People had started to talk though. After the death of Lady Comstock - a murder at the hands of a colored woman named Daisy Fitzroy - riots broke out in the lower classes. My Mother insisted I stay inside, although the hordes of people never reached our streets. It was over as soon as it began, and things returned to normal, although the fires below were far from quenched. I had heard rumors, mostly from the men who hung around the corner tavern, about an uprising. Daisy Fitzroy was still alive, and still building a following, and Comstock would get what was coming to him sooner or later, they were sure of it. Or vice-versa, they said. One of them had to come out on top, and if she had eluded Comstock this long, Fitzroy was a force to be reckoned with for certain.

"Get your nose out of that book, Miss Costello," a voice came from the doorway. "I don't pay you to read. I pay you to keep this place presentable."

Ms. Golding, the spinster with the tightest lips I had ever seen on another human being, ran the bookshop, and also happened to be my employer. She claimed to be doing my Mother a great favor when she took me under her wing, as no one in their right mind would hire that "Costello Brat". My outbursts in class had made it as public news, for which I received a bare-bottomed whipping upon my return home, from both my Mother and Step-Father. I learned very quickly to keep my comments low, and my escapades far from the ears of my elders.

"I've already done the chores for the day," I informed her, laying the book down on the counter in front of me. "I even delivered Ms. Madison's order to her, personally, with the note you instructed."

Ms. Golding stood by the door, eyeing me with a look that said quickly obviously that she did not believe a word I said. I was not lying, this time, though I grew accustomed to receiving this look in particular two or three times a day. As expected, she crossed to the shelves on the far side of the room, running a gloved finger along the tops of the books. As she lifted the clean finger to her eyes, she pulled a face of disappointment. I couldn't help but smile smugly in return.

"Very well," she said. "I'll be back shortly with a list of tasks. I'm sure there's something around here for you to do."

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

Ms. Golding ascended the stairs to the second level, and I sighed, resting my chin on my hand. I didn't hate my job, that was for sure, but Ms. Golding certainly made it difficult to enjoy it as much as I would have liked. I must have read through most of the books on the shelves multiple times, some even to the point where I could recite them verbatim if I wished it. Circumstances, however, were never appropriate for such a talent.

I jumped a little as a young man rode up in front of the shop on a bright blue bicycle. Hopping off the seat, he leaned it against the wall of the building and started for the door. Entering the shop, he removed his hat, and I smiled, this time a little more genuinely.

"Good afternoon, Alexander," I said politely.

"Good afternoon, Miss Charlotte," Alexander Rex replied, approaching the counter.

Alexander was a well-to-do young man who always made it a point to stop by every Thursday afternoon on his way home from work. He claimed to be picking a book for his ailing Mother, but I saw through that act after the second day. I always thought he was sweet on me, and I admitted openly - to myself - that he was easy on the eyes. Mother wouldn't be disappointed in the slightest if I brought him home.

"I've been keeping this safe for you," I said, handing a paper-wrapped book over the edge of the counter.

Alexander took it, though I was tempted to hold it for a second longer, just to toy with him. He nodded kindly, touching his hand to the spot on his head where his hat sat only moments before.

"You're a darling, you know that, right, Miss Charlotte?" he said with a smile.

"You flatter me, Alexander," I replied. "Strange selection this time. I never thought your Mother to be the kind of woman who would read such dangerous romances."

Alexander laughed, shaking his head. "You're mistaken, Miss Charlotte," he said. "This book isn't for my Mother this time. This time it's for someone special."

I felt something in my chest tighten. The book I spent so much time precariously wrapping happened to be "Behind the Veil" by the one and only Miss Everline Trask - one of Columbia's most risque authors. There was an entire group of women who tried their darnedest to rid the whole country of her writings, but even they couldn't help but admit the books were exceptionally good. The movement, although it still existed, made no progress, and Miss Trask's works remained in circulation.

This book in particular happened to be a personal favorite of mine. I was certain Alexander knew it, and I was certain this was all some kind of ploy.

I said to him loftily: "What a lucky lady!"

"Indeed!" he responded, his smile unfading. "But alas, I am the luckier to have such a lady, Miss Charlotte!" He moved a little closer to the counter, and that tightening in my chest grew almost unbearable. I was fairly certain I would pass out right then and there if he said my name one more time. "Miss Charlotte -" Oh, there it was! "Can I confess something to you?"

Oh, I wish you would, I thought.

"Certainly," I said. "I'm running short on gossip these days."

Alexander leaned his arms crossed against the counter and dropped his voice low, although the twinkle in his blue eyes could not be mistaken. "I'm in love, Miss Charlotte," he admitted. "I'm in love, and I never thought it possible."

There it was. He had said it, and yet, I didn't know how to react. I didn't know whether to keep in my surprise or squeal with delight. I didn't want to be like the other girls who giggled behind their fans, or whispered in packs as the gentlemen passed by on their way to the bars, adjusting their collars to show off just a little more of their bosom than society liked. I wasn't known for that kind of thing, and I certainly couldn't allow myself to do that now, no matter what kind of standing Alexander Rex had within the community.

"Oh, Alexander," I started slowly. "I - I don't know what you want me to say..."

"Say you're happy for me, Miss Charlotte!" Alexander burst with excitement. "You're my friend, and I want you to be happy for me! This is the real thing, and I never thought it would happen to me. We've already spoken to the Prophet, and he's blessed the marriage and everything - "

I didn't understand. He'd already spoken to Father Comstock about an arrangement of marriage, before saying anything to me. That didn't sound like the proper way to go about things. After all, he hadn't even asked me out for coffee or an evening picture show.

"You should hear the things he's sayin', Miss Charlotte," Alexander moved in close once again. "My future, and the future of Columbia! Good things are comin', and he's sure of it!"

I stood in shock and silence. I couldn't even muster up a smile at this point if I tried, let alone look at the boy standing in front of me. He never spoke of the Prophet so highly before, and what of this marriage, still. He had yet to explain just what on Columbia he was talking about.

"Miss Charlotte," he expression fell to concern. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry," my voice didn't want to come out. "I'm sorry, Alexander, but I'm so very confused. You're talking about marriage?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"To whom, may I ask?"

Alexander hesitated, as though he could suddenly read my thoughts. He twisted the hat in his hands nervously, the book still tucked tightly under his arm. "Why I -" he stammered. "I - I thought I discussed that with you already, Miss Charlotte. Wendy Temple - from down the way - she runs the little flower shop on the corner, just after the tavern. You've met Wendy, haven't you? I could have sworn I mentioned her to you before."

I shook my head. He had not mentioned Wendy Temple ever in our discussions, and that I was sure of. It was foolish of me to think he was talking about me all along. After all, like I said, he hadn't even asked to see me outside of the shop before. And yet, all of the visits had to have meant something.

"Oh Miss Charlotte," he didn't move from his spot, the painfully obvious look of guilt lining his face. "Did you think - Oh I am so sorry, I never thought that - if for one second I thought you might - I am so sorry..."

I forced myself to look at him, pushing any and all feeling of sickness to the bottom of my stomach. Coughing gently, my voice returned at proper volume, as though nothing bothered me at all. I even managed to laugh, but only the smallest, most false laugh I ever laughed in my entire life. Even Alexander knew it.

"Oh, don't be silly, my dear boy!" I said much louder than I expected. "Did you think that I was thinking - oh no!" Another false laugh. "Of course, I knew you were talking about Wendy! I just thought it was a little - er - soon, to be thinking of marriage. But these are new times, after all, aren't they? Everyone's doing crazy things these days."

Alexander nodded. "Yes, they certainly are," he said nervously.

A silence fell between us and I looked down at the counter space in front of me. I fidgeted with a pile of paperwork I had already organized that morning, because I couldn't think of anything else to do with my hands. Finally, Alexander spoke up.

"Are you sure you're alright, Miss Charlotte?"

I looked up only briefly and smiled even more so. "Of course!" I said. "I give you my blessing, my friend. I'm sure your lady is waiting for you, however. You should probably get on your way."

I didn't actually want him to leave, but given the circumstances, I had nothing more to say to the boy. I wanted to be alone in my bookshop, with my ancient hag of an employer, and my books. I wanted to watch the children pass by in peace, and when five o'clock rolled around, I would lock the doors and head home as though nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"Yes," he agreed. "I suppose I should be going."

I said nothing in response.

"I'll see you, then," he added. "Next week."

Again, I failed to say anything in return. I only looked up when the little bell over the door chimed, and I heard the lock click into place. Alexander and his bicycle were gone from the front of the shop, and I was, as requested, left to my quiet room. As the weight of the recent events washed over me, I collapsed onto a nearby stool, resisting the urge to cry. If I cried, Ms. Golding would be down in an instant, complaining about the racket, and I couldn't have that. I couldn't have the old woman see me in such a vulnerable state.

Sit up, Charlotte, I said to myself. She'll be back any minute. Wipe your face.

I did so and glanced at the clock. It was much later than I remembered. I was surprised to find that we only had a few minutes before we closed up for the evening. Alexander had arrived much later than normal. That should have been a tip-off right away that something was out of the ordinary.

As I rounded my counter, I heard the bell chime once again. I turned to inform the customer they only had a few minutes to peruse our selection before we were locking the doors.

"Excuse me, Miss," I said. "We're just about to close shop -"

I froze as the woman lowered her hood. A lady I had only seen a handful of times before at a very far distance stood in front of me. She wore a coat, almost as if to disguise herself, but the light red hair, tucked back every so beautifully, gave her away immediately.

"Is Ms. Golding here?" the woman asked.

For the second time that hour, I found myself almost unable to speak. "Yes ma'am," I said. "She's just upstairs. Shall I fetch her for you?"

The woman shook her head. "Oh no, my dear. She's expecting me. I'll just fetch her myself."

The woman crossed in front of me, starting for the staircase. It was only on very special circumstances that customers were allowed on the second floor, and that was strictly by Ms. Golding's invitation only. Ms. Golding had said nothing about this visitor in particular, though I could hardly imagine she would mind my allowing her full clearance.

"You're Rosalind Lutece!" I couldn't help myself. The words merely tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

Rumors had circulated for years about the Luteces. Some believed the pair, Rosalind and Robert, to be dead, but they appeared shortly after that rumor started and quite publicly debunked it. I knew less about Robert, but Rosalind - I couldn't believe she was standing in front of me - Rosalind was the whole reason Columbia managed to survive in the skies. She aided Father Comstock in his creation of Columbia from the very beginning. Rosalind created the very devices that kept Columbia afloat. I had read about it my books.

Rosalind turned her head to face me, pausing at the very bottom stair. She smirked, and tipped her head in a short nod. "You're a bright girl," she said. "Surrounded by books all day, I would expect you to be."

I didn't stop there. I should have let her go, but I couldn't let a moment like this pass. "So the rumors," I foolishly brought up. "The rumors about you and your brother, they're not true. I mean, you're obviously not dead."

Rosalind blinked. "I'd like to think of myself as alive," she commented. "But then again, who really gets to decide these things?"

I didn't know how to respond. With another enigmatic smile, she turned from me and started up the stairs. Once the bottoms of her skirts were no longer in sight, I glanced back at the door, and again to the now empty stairwell, making a split-second decision. Darting for the lock, I slid it in place, ensuring no customer could enter. A moment later, I toed my way up the stairs behind her.

Certainly, Mother would panic if I did not arrive home at my usual time, but she would have to understand. If Rosalind Lutece was in my bookshop, she was looking for something very important. And I would be damned if I wasn't going to hear every last word.

A/N: So hey - let me know what you think, or if you're interested at all in what happens next. Thanks for reading! :)