This takes place before Anna is born and is only about Booker and his wife. No incest here...sickos. Btw since the wife was never been given a name I decided to give her one. Don`t laugh...ha ha ha. OKAY...enjoy :D

Chapter I: An Honest Mistake

She was nervous driving to the Pinkerton's. No matter how much she tried to tell herself it would all be okay, it didn't remove the bottomless pit that grew in her stomach. When she drove into the driveway, she slowly came upon the tall two story building as it hover over her and the other empty cars in the parking lot. There wasn't really much to look at from the outside, maybe a tree or two and a bench next to an ash tray, but nothing more. It didn't need to be decorative though, considering the job her husband worked.

Every other day would've been like any other. She would've waited at home like she should've, like he asked her to, but it was their sixth year anniversary today, seventh actually, and this was the 4th anniversary he had skipped out on working for those bastards he calls co-workers.

But Alessa was no fool. She knew what he did for a living, who he worked for; they were dirty under handed people who only did things they way saw fit. And unfortunately, after the war in Peking, and Wounded Knee, Booker had become merely a shell of his former self, unable to find any other job that would hire him because of what he did. People saw it as unforgivable, some praised and some ridiculed him for his career and his choices.

But Alessa? she understood. She knew the consequences of being the wife of a man of war, the ramifications of what would happen when he returned, and she knew that once he left at the age of eighteen for boot camp. And in the end, she even knew that the Booker Dewitt she knew and love would probably return never the same.

And her nightmare came true. Once Booker had return, his eyes were cold, colorless. No longer the bright ambitious blue she remembered them to be; he also came back with horrible scars engraved in his body, the reminders and burdens that began to weigh heavy on his shoulders one day at a time. It was like a cancer, slowly working through them both. The two knowing that the memories of the war were getting worse and worse the more he began to distance himself from his wife.

Then came the drinking, not too soon after, the gambling. She went through it all with him, and when he had began to work for the Pinkerton's she knew that there was more than just his resume of the war that kept him working there. They were having him gamble on their behalf, having him work 'over time' and letting him drown in his sorrows there know doubt.

It felt as if he was becoming a stranger to her.

What had happened to them? Had anything she tried worked at all? At least enough for him to come home and lay with her every now and again? She knew it was because of his reputation in the war. Once the Pinkerton's found that out, they purposely made it difficult for her husband to leave.

At first, it didn't seem like much either, a few nights without him didn't kill her, but after only two years of being home, he stopped coming home all together.

It only worsened from there all rolling down hill. But she stood by him, each year loosing more and more money, and living more in debt than Booker could ever break free of, or so it seemed.

She wished she could ease his troubled mind, and take away whatever was causing him so much pain. Sadly, it seemed the more she tried to do just that, the more Booker pushed her away.

To keep you safe he told her once before, but who does he think he was fooling?

Finally finding the courage to stop gawking at the building, Alessa let go of the steering wheel and the knot still tightening even as she took a breath, and then she stepped out into with her heels planting themselves on the ground first. She locked up the car, and placed the keys in her pockets, the nerves in hands were making them shake, even her legs shook as she walked up the steps to the entrance. There were a few men outside the door, watching her, gawking at her the beauty that she was. One even whistle in approval making Alessa scoff in disgust before she power walked into the building, and made her way up to his office.

She didn't need to ask anyone. It only took looking around at the doors to see his was on the top floor. Then she saw Matthew, one of Bookers partners that she usually saw her with. Usually he said hi, and she responded back with a warm regard, but today, Matt could tell something was wrong, "Allie? I-If you're looking for-,"

"Out of my way Matthew." She refused to make eye contact, and with a quick jog, Alessa reached the floor she desired, and felt her heart break even more, and her thoughts run wild. She had to gather her composure with a close of her eyes, and nod of encouragement before she knocked on the door.

At first, there was no answer. She thought maybe he wasn't there. But just to make sure, the dark hair woman knocked even louder, this time hearing a loud cough, and at least two knocked over bottles as her husband grumbled to the door, no doubt stumbling. When he finally reach the door, the only thing that Alessa could do was smile, "Allie? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"Yes everything's fine at home. I wanted to see how you were doing. It's been a couple of days since I last saw you Booker." It almost seemed like he was time traveling, he was looking around, and muttering to himself as he rubbed his face, "What time is it?"

"5:00. Evening."

"Damn it. I'm awfully sorry. Works been hell. Well, come in, come in, no one needs to ease drop. I've missed you." He added the last part quick, as if he meant to say it but was still too out of it to really know what was going on around him. It made the blue eyed woman sad, more than usual. But none the less she smiled softly and kissed his rouged cheek with her hands placed on his chest. The instant she touched him, she could already smell the booze on his lips, "And I you." She even lingered a minute, taking in the feeling of Booker embracing her a little as he closed the door behind her then released her as she moved away, almost pushing herself out of his arms, just light enough to get away, and look at the few bottles on his desk which was accompanied by a few files and photos, then on top of those were his pistol and badge, as if he had just been working around the clock.

Well, it was usually the case, but as his wife's hear sunk, she heard Booker walk up behind and around her, to lean against the front of his desk, "So, you must've had an important reason to come here. What's on your mind."

At first, she thought about letting him have it, tell him everything and lay it out on the table for him, but something inside her….A scared little girl she never thought she'd see again came out of hiding. And when she opened her mouth to speak she heard her husband laugh tiredly, rubbing the back of his head, "That's not right. What I mean to say is…I know why you're here. I just…Been so busy."

"Too busy to come home to your own wife?" She didn't mean to say it so harshly but she had every right to be angry, and he knew that, "I know, I know. But…With this job you know I can pay off the debts this way, and then we'll be done of this place."

Alessa wanted to believe that, but his words…They just held no meaning. She then turned around with her arms folded, her head turned enough for Booker to hear her, "It's been days Booker…Months since you've actually stayed home. I'm falling apart. I wake up alone, I eat alone, I sleep alone…Hell Booker, do you even know what today is?" There was only silence to spare. She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief, "I can't believe you."

"Alessa please, let me explain-,"

"Explain what that you've been working, torturing people to get them to stop striking, for the bastards you owe money to? The gambling! You think that was going to pay off those evil men! Well it's not!"

"I know that!" He boomed back causing his voice to shake his wife to the bone. But immediately he reframed and took a step back with a deep exhale through his nose. He ran his fingers through his hair, regretting he ever yelled at her.

He just hate to see his wife in such peril because of him. It was all because of him. And as she hugged herself, nearly teary eyed, Booker sighed again, even more guilt building up on his conscience, "I'm sorry Al."

"Why…" She whispered stopping him.

"Huh?"

"Why can't things be the way we were?" She attempted to hold the lump in her throat, not ready to give in just yet, even biting her lip to stop the tears from falling, "We were so happy once, and I know the war has changed you. I understand you also need space sometimes to think and just…Do whatever it is you need to do. I'm your wife, I love you for who you are, what you do and no one can change that, no matter how many people hate you for what you did, I will always love you."

"Allie please…"

"No. No you're going to listen to me, Booker DeWitt. I've waited years for you to come home safely to me. It killed me, tortured me to know that I could only write you not knowing if the next letter you send will be your last. I knew what I was getting into, I knew that I may loose you, but I also knew you were a great man that you can get yourself out of any situation."

He stayed silent, just listening, "Then you come back, and the nightmares start. I know that must be hard. It must kill you to feel that alone." Her tears could stay back any more, but she let her fall and took one of his own in hers, putting her lips to his fingers as he watched her, "Then you started to gamble, and drink. I still didn't mind, I let it go. But when you started to work for the Pinkertons to pay off the debts, doing what you do….I just couldn't take it. It's like I'm watching you destroy yourself, and I can't…I can't… do anything!"

"Alessa…" What could he say, he knew he was a screw up. But was it worth his wife's suffering?

"I want to help. But I'm helpless to do anything to make this all go away. I can't even keep you at home long enough to try. Why? Why do you continue to push me away?"

"I don't mean to Allie, I'm just overwhelmed, with work, Pinkertons, the debt, everything coming down on my head if I don't get the job done."

"Then quit." She begged, "We'll run away from all of this and start a new life in California."

"We can't do that Allie. If I leave they'll only track us down, and kill us both. And I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you."

"I don't care, at least we could try, instead of letting them drag us through the muck. Look what they've done to us Booker, sure you were in debt, but hurting people is wrong. And I don't like it."

"Well like it or not, this is my job. I can't leave, and I won't jeopardize you to clean my slate. I'd rather wait it out and pay it off."

"Oh Booker…" Alessa hung her head, starting at his feet more than his face, indecisive of what she could say now to convince that this could all be washed away, somehow. But the ideas seemed slime. "You're so stubborn…" Then she looked up from the floor to him, and walked up to him from the little distance there was between them, laying her cheek against his chest, listening to the lightly petering of his heart beat. It was fast, off beat. As if he was unsettled.

Well, that made two of them. Now, as she looked up into his faded green eyes, she could only think of all the times his iris use to seem so vibrant, and full of life, determination. If only that were true, if only that's what she could see, but all she saw was nothing. There was nothing left in him, and she wish only to make it better. Finally she spoke again, full stern in her voice, "But I can't watch you kill yourself any longer. It hurts me too much, and until you find yourself again…Please come find me."

"Alessa no…Don't-,"

"I love you."

"Alessa wait. wait!" Without anything else to say, the dark haired woman made an escape for the door, nearly jogging out the door with Booker calling after her, "Alessa!"

She didn't listen though, she was done talking, she had tried many times before to convince something similar, but every time, he didn't want to talk about it. Yet again she failed.

Was this really the answer? Was leaving him for the better? She must've been a fool for doing this, but she didn't care at the moment, all she cared about was getting out there, out of that musky good for nothing building, and into her car, which she immediately looked for the key, not paying attention to her door slightly ajar. She looked everywhere for those keys, silently sobbing and angry at herself for being so helpless.

Just then, her door opened wide. At first she thought it was Booker coming after her, but when she saw a man she didn't recognize her brows cocked, and when he put a gun in her face, her eyes widened and her breath hitched, unable to speak, "Don't move."

"Alessa!" Just then Booker came out, his eyes quickly shifting to the two as the ran began to start. It was pouring down just as Booker's eyes went from shocked, to deadly, "Skinner…"

"Hello DeWitt. Long time no see. Still remember me too huh? Well that's good, and here I wouldn't get the pleasure of meeting your lovely wife here. But what's this tears?" He wiped one from the woman's cheek, making her glare and pull away, "Don't touch me." That earn her a click of the gun as the mysterious man held it to her head, pulling her out of the car.

A sound gasp filled the air, his grip was tight, and hard. It was hurting her actually, "No!" And Booker frantically notice this, "Don't you hurt her! I swear, I swear if you do anything do my wife I'll make you beg before I kill you."

"A stone cold Pinkerton to the bloody end I see. You haven't changed a bit since Wounded Knee. And don't worry Mr. DeWitt, I wish not to harm the girl, but to make an negotiation. Work for me, and I won't harm your woman here." He held the gun at point blank range, only it so close to her head she was starting to tilt away from the barrel of it, grunting from it.

"You'll have to take it up with the men that hired me." He growled, feeling like he was about to go tunnel vision on his old comrade. A friend that lost himself on the battlefield, and worked in the company of the men that he owed money to.

"This isn't a game DeWitt. You will have until tonight to answer, or your wife here?" He ran his fingers through her soft dark strands, and pulled hard to make her yelp, making Booker choke, as he only had enough time to put his hands on his pistol, "You son of a bitch!"

"I wouldn't do that. Like I said, tonight. 6:00. On the dot, no funny business. If I find any track of someone other than you coming? There will be consequences my good man, dire consequences." With that he put Alessa into the back of her own car, and sped off, his finger on the trigger the entire time until the man got away. Booker didn't know why, but he ran out into the middle of the street hoping to get a better look at the license plate, and a good look at Alessa looking back through the back window. She looked terrified, tears rolling down her face as she tried to find the strength to survive this, Booker…

He got it alright, but his heart clutched in his chest as he watched his wife get taken captive, "Alessa!" He fell to his hands and knees in a puddle he had not realized was there, yet the puddle was something so small compared to what just happened.

He was filled was something, something he hadn't felt since the wars, since the killings and the murders of his own comrades. All the emotion was there, now for what he knew was to come.

Booker had one goal, one purpose, and that was to get his wife back, even if he had to break the bastard's neck.

Next-Chapter II: Redemption