'I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Washington, 'It belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican, 'It belongs to God.' 'No!' says the man in Moscow, 'It belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture, a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.'
Felicity was the closest to her father out of her sisters. She always brought him tea, came to visit with her husband, tended to his illnesses and helped around hi house. Some said that she had his eyes, but she knew deep down that her father was not actually her father. She remembered so clearly being stood around her father's deathbed. With her hand gently on his, she finally acquired the courage to ask him about the tattoo on his wrist. "Father, you have to forgive me for intruding but...it looks like a prison tattoo..." she joked nervously, a tiny giggle escaping her wobbling lips as she traced her fingertips over her father's wrist. It was a chain of three links, faded over time, but still visible on his wrinkled skin. Jack's eyes opened a little and he returned the small laugh before coughing, his other 'daughters' having waited outside, giving him time with his youngest.
"You'll be better off not knowing, pet." he coughed weakly, a warm smile still managing to find its way onto his time forgotten lips. "Trust me. But if you go looking for it, the truth will find you. A man chooses..." Jack winced at the painful memories threatening to surface again.
"A slave obeys." Felicity finished, having heard the phrase hundreds of times from her father. It was the wisdom he imparted on her, and her sisters, but Felicity felt out of place. She wanted to travel, make her own life. Felicity had completed her education, she'd done everything a young girl could dream of. Hell, she'd enjoyed married life. But something...something was missing. She longed for the sea yet her father had restricted her. When they'd visit the beach when she was little, she was always the one not allowed to play in the crashing waves. Why? Her sisters were allowed. "Why do you torture me so much, father? You take me to the seaside yet stop me from playing in the sea."
"Because...you always maintained that connection..." Jack trailed off, his machines now beeping furiously, drowning out the frail, old man's voice. Her sisters ran in, all taking Jack's hand in his own, Felicity joining. She felt tears roll down her cheeks and wiped them away with her free hand before anyone saw. She wouldn't want her dad to remember her crying. He'd cared for them all for years yet would not divulge any information on his obviously broken past, he wouldn't let them into what he called 'horrible nightmares'. He was a broken man, but he was her only guardian, and she thanked him in a hushed whisper for all he had given to her and her four sisters.
With one final hand squeeze, Jack slipped away, the vision of Rapture fading to blackness under his limp eyelids. His daughters wept but Felicity knew that he was finally free. The girls left one by one, meeting with their husbands (and children in some of her sisters), discussing how they felt. Felicity solemnly grabbed her jacket and walked over to her waiting husband before leaving the ward that now only bore despair and loss. She felt her chest tighten as she reached their care, insisting her husband drives, and she stared out of the window the whole way home. "I can't believe his gone..." she managed to whisper, tears now flowing again.
"He's at peace." her husband reassured, looking at the broken form of his wife. "How about a trip to the beach? I know he used to take you all the time. We could remember him in a way he would want us to." he suggested.
"Not yet, I'm not ready." She spoke sadly, hand on her chest. "I should really fly to England, see my family again, my cousins…"