If you have not read "A Finite Infinity," I suggest reading it first as a prelude to this story.

Elizabeth sat silently in the large tree she had brought in from a tear. Her back lay against the trunk, and her hands were in her lap. She fidgeted with the thimble on her finger as she looked on. Booker, this world's version, was laying in a large hammock. He was reading a book to his Anna, who lay in his arms. The young girl was probably thirteen and clearly content to spend the afternoon with her father.

"I miss you, Booker," she sighed.

"It seems silly to miss someone who is alive."

"But also dead."

"Yes, she did drown hers."

"They're all hers, are they not?"

Elizabeth didn't need to look. The Luteces crossed paths with her once in a while, and the surprise at their appearance had quickly faded.

"It's not the same," she argued.

Robert scoffed. "Emotional intelligence suggests so, but in truth…"

"They are more or less the same," Rosalind finished. "Aside from some constants and variables."

"She does need him, though. Remember the one who went to Rapture?"

"Which one is that?"

"The underwater one."

"I remember the city," Rosalind quipped. "I meant which girl?"

Elizabeth lifted her head. "I went there?"

"In a sense, yes. One version went to take care of some unfinished business."

"She missed DeWitt as well. Started talking to quasi-existent manifestation of him."

"Not unlike the siren Lady Comstock."

"I don't blame her." Elizabeth drew her knees up to her chest, considering the other Elizabeth.

"Why not speak to him, then?" Rosalind's hand touched Elizabeth's hair softly, showing sympathy without comfort.

"He has a daughter."

"This one perhaps," the male Lutece agreed. "But in a few, he is alone."

Elizabeth shook her head. "My Booker is dead."

Robert looked exasperated. "Died, dies, will die."

"There's always a man, Elizabeth Prime."

The Lamb of Columbia furrowed her brow. "Prime?"

"Something we've taken to calling you," Rosalind explained.

Elizabeth stood, balancing on the thick branch. "Do you think I can do it? I could be… important to another Booker?"

"Many parents tell their children they can accomplish anything…"

"But most children lack the knack for trans-dimensional passage and restructuring."

The two flickered out of the current world before Elizabeth could speak again. She thought about the idea. Another Booker? It wouldn't be the same. She had to remember that. Still…

The interdimensional girl looked down over the bough. She stepped off and fell towards the earth. Just before ground could meet her, she closed her eyes. Booker and Anna kept reading in the hammock, unaware of her departure.

Elizabeth reopened her eyes. She recognized the sight in front of her, a large white monolith in front of a pool of water. She made her way down the street and stopped in front of a newspaper stall. A young black man nodded at her politely, and she smiled back at him. She glanced at one of the papers:

THE WASHINTON HERALD

November 12, 1908

PHONEBOOTH NOW EXCEED 100 IN D.C. METRO AREA!

SALTONSTALL ELECTED!

GIRL FOUND BY LOCAL DETECTIVE!

Elizabeth picked up the paper and started reading the last story aloud. "Local private detective Booker DeWitt returned the kidnapped daughter of Senator James E. Watson on Wednesday evening. Miss Ruby Watson was discovered by DeWitt in a warehouse on the Potomac, officials say. Senator Watson's cousin, Annabelle, called DeWitt 'as brave as he is charming…'"

"Crazy, innit?" the stall worker commented.

"Yes, definitely." She folded the paper neatly and set it back on the pile. "Could you direct me to the nearest pay phone?"

The man nodded. "Just got a new one installed on 12th. It's a block down on your right."

"Thank you." Elizabeth gave him a polite nod and started down the street. When she was out of sight, she allowed herself to tear across the distance. The portal closed behind her as soon as she stepped through it, and Elizabeth found herself in front of the phonebooth. She stepped inside and scanned the phonebook, or rather the one-page list attached to the kiosk. In another world, she remembered seeing a thick yellow book that sat under the phones there. She wondered how long it would take to reach that point in linear time. She found DeWitt Investigations almost immediately and brought in some change through a tear to pay for the call.

The phone range twice. "DeWitt," came a deep voice. She froze. She'd encountered a slew of Bookers in her mission to erase Comstock, but talking to this one was different. She wanted to be a part of this Booker's life.

"Hello? If this is a prank call, I swear – "

"It's not a prank," she blurted out. "I need your help."

There was a pause before he spoke. "I'm not taking new clients right now. Got my plate full."

"Book– Mr. DeWitt. I saw your name in the paper. Please."

Another long pause. There was a rustling sound on the other end. "We can meet."

"Great," Elizabeth breathed. She hadn't realized how long she'd been holding her breath. She skimmed over the phone list again and stopped on a name that sounded like a restaurant. "What about the Old Ebbitt Grill? Eight o'clock?"

"Let's make it seven. I have somewhere to be at eight."

Elizabeth tried not to laugh. Time was irrelevant to her. He could have said next year, and it would only be a moment for her. "Seven it is, Mr. DeWitt." She hung up the phone. She was going to meet her father again. She closed her eyes, imagining the time and date. A flash of light surrounded her, and when she reopened her eyes it was night. A sign in front of her read "Old Ebbitt Grill." As she entered through the front door, she glimpsed a clock above the hostess. 7:13. Ironically, she was late.