Lying on her side on the worn mattress, her back to the wall, Elizabeth grins again as she stares at the man sleeping beside her, barely illuminated by the dying lamp beyond. On his side as well, his head propped up on his good arm, Booker still takes up most of the old mattress despite his best efforts, sleep claiming him almost the moment he lay down beside her. Thinking back on the past few hours, Elizabeth bites her lip to suppress a chuckle; Booker's eyes drooping as he tried to stave off sleep, blinking rapidly and shaking his head, he'd fought as best he could, but exhaustion proved his efforts futile. He'd wanted to talk with her through the night, to ask her of everything that she'd gone through since their last parting, and to tell her everything he'd gone through before their reunion, both here and in Rapture. But even as he sat beside her, Booker yawned, beginning to doze off.
"All for the best." She whispers quietly to herself, knowing that such a conversation would be rather short-lived on her end; aside from her time in Rapture, she remembers very little about her time as a living quantum superposition, only able to recall grieving over him with only the lighthouses as silent witnesses. Everything else that she'd might have seen or done had been wiped clean when she'd collapsed, and Elizabeth couldn't help feeling she'd forgotten something important, and not just to her.
Booker had insisted she take the bed while he'd sleep in his chair, something he claimed he was more than comfortable with. But she wasn't; the wounds he still suffers from could become dangerous, and she wouldn't have him risk any further damage or opening one of his wounds while they slept. He'd groaned as she pulled him from the chair, she once again remembering the medical journals she'd read in her tower. At the very least, she'd agreed to take the pillow, Booker insisting she rest her injured head as much as possible.
Not that she was much better off, her head still aching and her body crying out for sleep. Though she'd been proclaimed fine by Rosalind Lutece, the pain from the head wound still lingers. Her own eyes seem intent on closing themselves, and she fights to quiet another yawn as she stares at her Booker. She doesn't want to sleep, not yet; she wants this day to go on, the day he came charging through the Tear to save her and bring her home. She hopes to remember them all, every detail, every thought and emotion she'd experienced since that moment, to engrave them in her memory and upon her very soul.
She remembers the joy she'd felt when he called her his daughter, the feeling seeming out of place as he battled Atlas. She lingers on the memory of throwing herself into Booker's arms, sobbing into his chest as he strokes her hair, he murmuring comfortingly into her ear. Elizabeth replays every moment of their reunion in her mind, hoping such a thing will preserve the clarity and intensity these memories carry at this very moment.
But sleep still beckons to her, Elizabeth feeling its comforting embrace encircling her mind with each passing moment. Another yawn sounds, this time Elizabeth letting it all out as she lays her head down on the mattress, glancing past Booker to the desk and door beyond. Her younger self… no, her little sister Anna slumbers peacefully in the other room, just the thought of the baby girl wrapped in her yellow knit blanket bringing a smile to her lips, staving off sleep's clutches for at least a moment longer. And glinting in the flickering lamp light lays the silver pocket watch where Booker had left it, sitting open on his desk, placed just so that the bird engraving etched inside the cover shines in the light.
Booker's apartment hadn't changed much in the year since she'd brought them here after escaping Columbia, while showing him that they were family and how she'd ended up becoming as she was. The desk still sits askew with the rest of the room, the ragged curtains doing little to obscure light from seeping in or out. He'd pushed the bed against the wall so she'd have an easier time falling asleep, about the only change to the apartment aside from the repaired shelves and, thankfully, no bottles of booze, cards or racing tickets littering the desk or floor. Inching closer to Booker, she rests her head next to his, her fading consciousness picturing Anna as a banana.
"Elizabeth…"
Booker's voice startles her, Elizabeth's eyes snapping open as she lifts her head from the mattress. Staring back at him, she's close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Booker's eyes remain closed, his breathing slow and regular, she letting out a sigh as she finds him still asleep, "He's just talking in his sleep…"
"Elizabeth…" His voice still quiet, Elizabeth pays him no mind as she slowly lowers her head onto the well-used pillow, slipping a hand beneath for extra cushion as he speaks again, "I'll never leave you… I'll never leave you again."
His words shake her from sleep's embrace, Elizabeth rubbing her eyes before focusing on Booker. The sputtering lamp cast strange shadows about the room, but Elizabeth can clearly see his furrowed brow, his mouth drawn back in a grimace. "Oh, Booker…" Reaching for him, Elizabeth gingerly holds his face in her hands, twin trails of tears warm beneath her palms. Despite the shadows, she can still make out the blue strip of fabric, still wrapped around Booker's broken arm.
"I'm home, Booker, please don't worry… I'm here…"
Leaning in closer, Elizabeth tenderly kisses Booker on the forehead before hugging him tightly, resting his head against her chest, able to feel the rise and fall of his chest against her body. She'd loosened her own red ribbon and the first button of her shirt, and with Booker's head resting snugly between her chin and chest, his every movement rubs strands of hair against her neck, a bit ticklish though she didn't mind. Elizabeth thinks back to him embracing her the same way once Atlas had fled, remembering how comforting the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body had been, and how much his presence had made her feel safe. Listening quietly, she can hear his heart thundering in his chest, feel it pounding against her torso, the sound a roar compared to her own heart's quiet rhythm.
His racing heart begins to slow, Elizabeth only then noticing his hand gripping her shoulder. "I'm so sorry…" His voice, no more than a mumble and muffled against her chest, brings a tear to her eye, "I… I sold you. How can I… can I ever…?"
"He still blames himself…" She fights back the tears as the thought crosses her mind, "Even after all the pain he went through, he still hasn't forgiven himself." Cradling her sleeping Booker, Elizabeth couldn't help but be reminded of the 'dream', from what feels like another lifetime ago. When she'd mistakenly brought them together in a Tear, how he'd tried to comfort her, and forgave her without really remembering why, only that he did.
She'd finally begun to forgive herself after that, though she never really did until they were together again, and she was in her Booker's arms. If she could give him even the slightest amount of the comfort he'd left her with, she'd gladly do so.
As a hint of tears begin to dampen her top, Elizabeth brings her lips to his ear, still hugging Booker to her chest, "I'm here, Booker, and I… I forgive you, too." Thinking once more of when she'd brought them together in Rapture, she breathes in deeply, intent on doing for him what he'd done for her.
Elizabeth hums softly to him, just as Booker had done for her when she'd been sobbing on her bed and again aboard the rowboat in the Sea of Doors. Not the hymn that she'd hummed for Anna when they'd returned home, but the mournful song she'd performed in Rapture; the requiem she'd sung for the friend and family she'd lost and thought never to be reunited with again.
The grip on her shoulder eases as her voice fills the silent apartment, Elizabeth breathing her relief between verses as the pounding of his heart slows, Booker calming bit by bit with each note. Elizabeth doesn't know if he actually hears her or if this was just a subconscious reaction, but she doesn't care. Laying her head down, still cradling Booker in her arms, Elizabeth lets herself drift off to sleep.
Pain assaults her mind, throbbing, blinding pain emanating from the side of her skull. Slowly, Elizabeth peels her eyes open, her vision dark and murky as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. "What's happening...? Booker? Where are you… oh, no… oh my God, no…"
She'd recognize the face that stares down at her anywhere; Atlas, the Ace in the Hole in hand and raising a wrench to bash her skull in, to kill her. No Tear opens behind him, no Booker charging through to her rescue, leaving just her with this murderous madman.
The wrench hurtles towards her, splitting pain burning away her senses as the final blow crashes into her skull, a killing blow without a doubt. All she can see, all she can comprehend now is spiraling, swirling visions, witnessing the history of things to come, voices accompanying the disjointed images. And finally, she hears her own voice, despite the fact that she doesn't speak the words.
"I can see all the doors… and what's behind all the doors… and behind one of them, incredibly… I see him."
Elizabeth sees the man from her visions standing outside Rapture's lighthouse, the one she saw in the vision aboard the plane, the man in the sweater as Booker calls him. He stands there with his hands on his hips, and she can't make out his face for the sun hangs in the sky behind him, obscuring his features no matter how hard she tries to focus. The vision shifts, Elizabeth now watching him from behind as a bathysphere rises to the surface, a tiny voice beginning to sing a quiet French song drifting to her ears. Little Sisters appear from within as the bathysphere door opens, the man stepping closer and kneeling, and as she makes out the song as La Vie en Rose, she sees a now normal looking Sally take the man's hand.
The vision ends, and Elizabeth finds Sally is in reality holding her own hand, her skin and eyes gray once more. It is her tiny voice that sings the song, and as she falls silent, Sally brings her hand up to her discolored cheek.
She feels a smile come to her lips as blood begins to run down her brow; the debt she'd owed had been paid, and now she could go to her final rest in peace, satisfied knowing that Sally and the others would be safe with Jack. As she wonders how she knows his name, the world fades to darkness.
Elizabeth wakes with a scream, clutching where the wrench had cracked her skull open, her heart practically leaping out of her chest, hammering so loudly she can plainly hear even over her panicked gasps.
"What's wrong?!"
Elizabeth very nearly screams again as she whips about to face the speaker, just barely reining it in upon seeing Booker staring back at her, the gray light of early morning casting him in ghostly shades. Staring back at Booker, it all starts coming back to her; Booker had saved her from that fate, and had brought her home. She sits in his bed, in his apartment in New York, not some forgotten tunnel in the underwater city of Rapture. Her savior stares back at her, worrying over her wellbeing, not the Little Sister she'd died to save, trying to comfort her in her last moments.
"Oh, Booker…" Tears spring forth as she sobs his name, resting her head against his shoulder, "I-I saw him… saw Atlas, saw him kill me… saw the visions you said I was to have. Why? Why can't I escape them? These visions, the doors… I don't want them anymore!"
"Shh… shh shh shh…" He pulls her into a hug, "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here… he can't hurt you anymore, I'll never let it come to that." His hand came up to stroke her hair, and she nods into his shoulder as she sobs, the terror of the nightmare still gripping her. But beyond the pain she'd felt and the fear her own death awakened in her, the thought of being ripped away from Booker panics her as much as the fate she'd seen awaiting her. She barely hears him speaking as the thought echoes in her mind, "The Luteces said something like this might happen, that you might regain the memories you were to recall."
"God only knows where I'd be without you, Booker." Lifting her head from his shoulder, Elizabeth looks Booker in the eye, tears still streaming down her face, "If… if this is a dream, even if I survived Atlas, survived Rapture, I'd have nothing. No family, no home, nothing to live for…"
"You'd have me." His hand moves to cradle her cheek, wiping tears away with his thumb, "No matter what, you would always have me, sweetheart. I'd have remembered eventually, and I'd…"
Elizabeth manages a smile, even as she shakes her head; without Booker, there was no chance she'd survive, only a corpse in some wretched, abandoned corridor watched over by a Little Sister and maybe her Big Daddy. But it doesn't matter anymore; in this dingy two-room apartment, she is safe with Booker. Her smile widens as she realizes they'd switched roles, though Booker couldn't know it.
Elizabeth tries to imagine what such a life would be like; still stuck in Rapture with Sally at her side, right in the middle of Rapture's Civil War with Andrew Ryan, Splicers and Atlas' men all pursuing her, she doubts the two of them would've made it very far. Even if they made it to freedom, what sort of life could they have? Sally couldn't live a normal life, not with her Little Sister conditioning and appearance, and she has no idea how to restore her to the healthy little girl she'd seen in the vision. She still had nowhere to go, no family to call her own, so it would just be the two of them in whatever city or town they found themselves in, two lost souls with only each other for company.
"I-I'm fine…" Elizabeth works her way out of the hug, giving Booker a smile she hopes appears reassuring; she scarcely wants to discuss Rapture or anything that happened there, and most certainly doesn't want to think of being taken away from her family.
"Elizabeth, you know you-"
"I said I'm fine, father."
Booker stops mid-sentence as the word leaves her mouth, Elizabeth needing a moment to comprehend what she'd just said, clapping her hands over her mouth to suppress a gasp as realization dawns. It'd come out so easily, even though through most of their relationship they had been strangers, partners and eventually friends. The number of times he'd insisted she call him Booker after she called him Mr. DeWitt, Booker was just how she thought of him now. "I-I'm sorry, Booker…"
"Why are you apologizing? Don't you remember? You've done nothing to apologize for, Elizabeth." A warm smile spreads across his features, joy lighting his face. She breathes a sigh of relief, warmth spreading in her chest as she thinks of the word. But no sooner has a smile touched her lips, her face falls, something unpleasant coming to mind. The first time she'd ever called someone father…
"Elizabeth? Are you… what's the matter?"
Booker's voice shakes Elizabeth from her train of thought, forcing a smile onto her face, "It's nothing… nothing at all, Booker." For a moment he looks as if he doesn't believe her, Booker opening his mouth to object further, but he falls silent. He simply glances down before returning his gaze to her, Elizabeth hoping he'd just drop the subject.
"Umm… Elizabeth? Why are we so close? I know you needed comforting, and my bed isn't meant for two, but," a knowing smile appears on his face, "that doesn't explain you hugging me to your chest earlier, Elizabeth."
The smile she's forcing, her entire body really, seems to freeze, and Elizabeth recalls in detail her attempt to comfort Booker before the nightmare appeared to torment her. Warmth of a different kind flushes her face, the smile faltering, "I… I don't… you were awake?"
"Only for the very end."
Humming fills her ears, Elizabeth feeling her cheeks burning but inwardly she breathes a sigh of relief, Booker halting the tune long enough to chuckle; he hadn't heard her forgiving him in his sleep. "At least he didn't hear me… huh. Would he tell me even if he did? I know he hasn't forgiven himself, doesn't believe in it…" She thinks of everything they'd been through together and how little Booker thought of redemption. Perhaps he does now? He'd willingly given up his life to prevent Comstock's existence, wasn't that an act of atonement? A sigh parts her lips as a thought crosses her mind, "We'll have to have this conversation later…"
So lost in thought, Elizabeth doesn't notice the humming has vanished, only looking up when his voice startles her, finding Booker no longer by her side. "Oh, perfect… it's about time for Anna to be getting hungry," Elizabeth follows his gaze as he grimaces, spying the satchel and silver pocket watch on his desk along the way, "She's not at all… pleasant when kept waiting, especially when she's hungry. Elizabeth, would you play with Anna while I get her bottle ready?"
Tearing her gaze away from the pocket watch, she nods as she picks herself up from the bed, the normalcy of playing with her baby sister appealing to her worn-down nerves. She glances at the bird engraving on the watch again as she passes, almost reaching for the pocket watch before slipping into Anna's room, a pang of regret over losing the brooch Booker had chosen drawing a sad smile across her face.
Easing the door shut behind her, Elizabeth turns slowly as a yawn comes from the crib. Anna had already woken up, a smile appearing as she locks eyes with her big sister. The yellow blanket lays about her, the child rolling onto her back, the plain white pajamas she wears not helping Elizabeth's image of Anna as a banana any. From the smile that she feels creeping onto her face, Elizabeth doesn't think she'll be rid of this notion anytime soon.
For a moment, Elizabeth could have sworn she was looking through a Tear; the weak light of the pre-dawn morning illuminated everything in washed out, predominantly gray colors, not so different from seeing something from another world. Only the blue of her little sister's eyes and touch of pink on her cheeks helps Elizabeth shake the feeling.
"Good morning, sweetie." An excited, giggling laugh greets her, Anna climbing to her feet in the crib, Elizabeth beaming as she picks up her little sister, "What are we going to do today, I wonder?" Another giggle is all Anna answers with, reaching for her with those tiny, soft hands. Cradled in her arms, Anna looks the vision of happiness and good cheer, Elizabeth wondering how Booker could describe her as 'not at all pleasant' as her little sister grabs hold of the red ribbon, pulling it free slowly.
"Hey, I need that, Anna." No sooner had she pulled the ribbon free than Anna put one end in her mouth, Elizabeth smiling as her sister tugs and crumples the rest of the ribbon in her little hands. "Huh, I wonder if there was anything… ah! Wait, Anna, spit it out!"
Elizabeth has no idea what might've gotten into the ribbon, some of the places she'd visited in Rapture far from what she'd consider sanitary, she grabbing the red fabric before Anna could stuff anymore into her mouth, "Come on, don't fight me on this…oh no, please, don't cry…"
In her panic, she'd yanked the ribbon from Anna's mouth and hands, the child's face puckering up and lower lip trembling as she reaches for the ribbon, now in Elizabeth's hand and out of reach. First comes something akin to a hiccup, Anna drawing in as much air as her little lungs can hold before bellowing her displeasure, filling the apartment with her cries as tears begin to fall.
"I spoke too soon, I suppose."
Stepping out of the bedroom, a noisemaker in hand drawing laughter from Anna, Elizabeth heaves a sigh as she checks the pocket watch; she'd spent the last twenty minutes comforting, playing with, even at one point begging Anna to stop crying. The noisemaker helped, but in the end she'd had to use the very ribbon that started Anna's sobbing, playing with it as if a toy until her sister had lost interest. At the very least, she'd gotten the fabric away from Anna, now tucked beneath her skirt's belt and well out of reach.
"So, what set her off?" Booker, standing before the wood stove as a small pot heats atop it, watches her and Anna with a hint of a smirk. As worrisome as the experience had been, Elizabeth feels a smile of her own tugging at her lips.
"Anna here decided to eat my ribbon," she retrieves the red ribbon from her belt, holding it up for him to see, "and I thought it unwise. She disagreed."
Booker chuckles again as he turns back to the milk while she takes a seat atop his desk, rattling the noisemaker now and then, Anna reaching for the toy with the same glee as she'd gone after the ribbon without fail. Sitting there, Booker preparing Anna's breakfast while said child rests peacefully in her arms, even after the tantrum, Elizabeth lets loose a contented sigh, simply enjoying being with her family.
Yet, she feels her eyes drawn back to the silver watch again, thinking back to the bird brooch she'd lost in Rapture. The brooch Booker had picked out for her at Battleship Bay, just after they'd first met. It had meant so much to her, and still does, even though it was simply part of the Luteces overall 'experiment'.
"I knew it." Booker's voice startles her, Elizabeth pushing the regret to the back of her mind, turning to find him looking her way once again.
"What?" Placing Anna on the desk's wooden surface, Elizabeth picks herself up wearily, the heat of the wood stove as she approaches chasing some of the aches she still felt away.
A hint of a smile tugs at his features, Booker motioning her closer, "I've something of yours, something I forgot about after everything. It's in my right pocket, so…" He cautiously raises his broken arm, wincing before long and returning it to rest, "If you would kindly…"
Elizabeth fights back a laugh only for it to come out a snort, blushing again as Anna bursts out in giggles, Booker's butchering of the Ace still drawing a smile despite the unladylike gaff she made. Reaching into his pocket, Elizabeth finds her hand closing around something slightly flat and slightly ovoid, metal and warm to the touch, her breath catching in her throat, "Could it…"
"No more cages, Elizabeth." She almost doesn't hear Booker's voice as she pulls her hand from the pinstriped pocket, Elizabeth hesitating as she stares at her closed fingers. When she finally opens her hand, she finds her smile returning in full bloom, the cameo of her bird brooch gleaming in the weak morning light.
She parts her lips to say something, to thank him once again, but finds her voice in no condition to do so, little more than a strained croak remaining. Her throat feels swollen, choked with tears that begin to stream down her face once more, despite the smile upon her lips. Elizabeth struggles against the tears, against the lump in her throat to thank Booker, but she simply cannot catch her breath as she looks up to her father.
"I'll… take those as happy tears…?" His voice manages to draw out a laugh, Elizabeth breathing deeply as the lump disappears, Booker staring back at her with uncertainty in his eyes as she catches her breath.
Closing her own for a moment, Elizabeth manages to finally swallow, clasping the brooch to her collar in lieu of anything else, "O-of course, of course… Booker, thank you so much, this means so much to me. You remember, don't you?"
"Well…" He looks away, appearing as if he's searching for an answer, much to Elizabeth's dismay. At least until a smirk appears, Booker glancing back at her with a chuckle, she feeling a lopsided grin forming as he speaks, "There it is, haven't seen that cocky grin in a while. The Luteces at Battleship Bay with their whole 'the bird or the cage' game? How could-ah hell!" Booker jerks around as bubbling reaches their ears, the milk he'd been preparing starting to boil over, yanking the pot from the stove and very nearly spilling the contents all over himself, "Dammit! Ahhh… well, at least I didn't ruin it…"
Seeing Booker worry over milk after everything they'd been through, after monsters and prophets and insane cities, Elizabeth can't help the laughter bubbling up from within. She vaguely hears Anna joining in, Booker's confused, once again sheepish expression as he stands there with a pot of milk in hand only making it worse, she doing her best to stumble back to his desk before doubling over.
"I… I'm sorry, Booker, it's just… milk, after… Tears, prophecies, Splicers…" She wipes a tear from her eye after a good few minutes, this one nothing like the tears of joy or sorrow she'd already shed today. A silly grin remains when her laughter finally dies down, brushing now disheveled hair from her eyes, "So… now that Anna's meal is ready, what about ours?"
Elizabeth bites her lip to keep from breaking out in laughter again as a blank look appears on Booker's face, her father heaving a heavy sigh, "That… that's a good question."
Author's Notes: And here's the start of my new 'main' story, I'm Home (for lack of a better name.) This could go very long, longer than Unbroken itself did if everything I've got going in my head works out the way I hope it does, and is primarily about the lives Booker and Elizabeth lead once they'd returned home, up to (and probably including, potentially beyond) their trip to Paris three years later. As always, I welcome any feedback in whatever form it may come in, and I will correct errors as they are found. Unlike Unbroken, which I had the entirety of it written out before I even started posting, I'm writing as I go, so updates may not be as regular as with Unbroken.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you'll enjoy those that follow.