Columbia 1893 - Comstock House

Things were simple in Comstock House. Busy, but simple.

Busier still when Comstock's Miracle Child came to the house. Daisy Fitzroy hadn't gotten a good look at the baby girl when Comstock had first introduced her to the work staff, tellin' them they had the privilege of caring for Columbia's little Lamb. The cost of any ill befalling the Prophets heir was their heads, naturally.

In the days that followed, Daisy not only got a good look, she got a hands-on experience with the miracle-baby.

Miss Elizabeth was crying again.

Daisy paused in her sweeping. Confounded at the notion that she had been perfectly fine just thirty minutes ago, and now suddenly she was at it again.

A louder little child never walked the clouds of Eden. She'd be on for hours wailing n' wailing in her crib, waking the dead in un-godly twilights. Daisy was usually the one to check on the thing. She'd never had a child of her own, but she helped raise enough brothers to know a thing her two.

Daisy went into the nursery, broom in hand but quickly set aside as she approached the baby-child's little white crib. Daisy cradled her gentle, cooing softly as she tried to figure out just what was wrong with her this time.

Miss Elizabeth aint wet, she aint hungry neither.

Most of the time she was just fine physically, so Daisy had to suspect that there was something in the baby-girl's soul that was botherin' her. Like she yearned for something emotional. Miss Elizabeth had a certain look to her, like deep down in her eyes she was tryin to tell you something. Like she was an adult-women who knew more about life better than anyone.

What Daisy found so strange, though, was the fact that Lady Comstock never seemed to go up to the baby n' care for her personally. It was strange because the Lady was so kind and genuine - at least, she had been kind and genuine-like towards Daisy.

Come to think, Daisy never even seen Lady Comstock enter the nursery.

"Daisy."

Never mind. There she is right now.

Lady Comstock was right at the door, looking only at Daisy with a sort of controlled stare.

"Afternoon, Lady Comstock," Daisy tried to curtsey as well as she could with a baby in her arms, "I was just checkin in on Lady Elizabeth. Seems to be cryin again f'no good reason. Why don't you hold her for a spell an' see if she calms down -"

"No," Lady Comstock said. Her voice was stern and her features severe.

Daisy nearly jumped at the reaction. The Lady even turned her face away to the left, as not to run even the slightest risk of seeing the baby through the corner of her eye.

Daisy bowed her head slightly, afraid she may have sparked the wrath of the First Lady. Tentatively, she tried to explain herself, "I…I only offered coz babies calm down when they Mama's hold em -"

"When you are done here, Daisy, I need you in the kitchen," the Lady interrupted again. She seemed even more agitated now than ever, and quickly she turned her back on the room, "I need to have a word with my husband."

She said husband almost venomously.

It was the strangest thing, Daisy thought. She could hear Lady Comstock march over to the Prophets office and in a moment, hurried, almost loud voices could be heard. It was very unnerving to see the Lady so upset, especially at the notion of holding her own baby. Daisy looked down at Miss Elizabeth, wondering vaguely if maybe it she was imagining all this nonsense.

Miss Elizabeth was quite now. A perfect expression of innocence and pure beauty.

Daisy smiled, "Who wouldn't love a precious angel-child such as yourself?"

Suddenly, the voices from Comstock's office got louder. They was shoutin' something fierce, and the loudest one heard was Lady Comstock cursing at the high-heavens.

"I TOLD YOU I DON'T WANT THAT BASTARD CHILD IN MY HOUSE!"

New York City, New York - Apartment Complex number 22b

"Come on, sweetie, don't make this hard on daddy… "

Booker DeWitt won't win any awards for outstanding parent of the year, but at least he's trying.

It would help, ever so much, if Anna would stop crying. He can never be sure if she's wet or hungry and when she's neither, he takes it as a personal accusation that he's done something wrong.

Booker let the shopping bags drop to the floor and focused on Anna entirely. He tried rocking her, and moving her up and down in his arms to see if it distracts her from whatever it is she's not okay with. He can't even reach for his keys because she's fussing so much, so they're standing in front of their own doorway looking lost and pathetic.

"It's okay, Anna…" he says, trying to get her attention but only succeeding in making hr cry louder, "Do want me to sing to you?"

Pfft, yeah right. Booker curses the fact that he barely even knows a full lullaby. Something about rocking cradles? And falling? Oh, hell no, she's had enough of falling from floating cities for a thousand lifetimes. No more of that. Thank you very much.

"Do you need any help?"

Because of Anna's wailing, he only half-recognizes the woman's voice, but in the long run it doesn't matter because he's just to exasperated to care.

"Yeah?" he says almost sarcastically, "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Give her here, I can get her to stop."

At this point he's willing to do so without thinking, because chances are if a woman offers to help, she's probably a mother and knows WAY more than Booker ever will about calming babies down.

However, he still looks up to make sure and the breaks turn on immediately.

Daisy Fitzroy - he almost says out loud, but stops himself just in time. It's definitely Daisy, though she's looks different than when last he saw her. She's softer, somehow. Her eyes aren't as sharp with a glare cold as stone. They are still strong and determined eyes, but…her humanity is still present in their shine. She's still heavily built and severe, but not murderous. She had overalls on and men's boots, her hair was tied up. A true picture of a working woman, not an extremist revolutionary. She had a calm disposition.

Calm, that is, save for the crying baby in his arm.

"Well, give her here," Daisy says again, holding out her arms expectantly.

Booker holds back just a little more. As much as it may look like this Daisy was trustworthy, he doesn't know for sure, and still can't shake the fact that the only version of her he knows is one that almost killed a child - not cared for one.

Daisy makes the decision for him, and reaches out for Anna. He nearly jerks back, but remembers that Anna might get hurt. Still, as Anna is taken from his arms, he keeps an alert eye on Daisy.

Daisy doesn't notice. She cradles Anna tenderly, cooing sweet nothings that only infants can understand. It's a little unnerving, and Booker is ready to take Anna back, but actually…it's working.

Anna begins to quite down, her sobs dwindled down to a few sniffles and then, absolute serenity.

Daisy smiles, taking Anna's little outreached hand into her own, "The trick is not bouncing her up n' down like a sack of potatoes. Sort of…move her like the ocean would. It calms em down."

"Eh…thanks," he says, awkwardly.

Daisy nods, "What's her name?"

Elizabeth. "Anna."

"Anna," Daisy breathes. There's a look in her eyes, suddenly. It's a strange, soft look with a glow to it. Like she's been here before. "Now aint you just a sweet little baby. Who wouldn't love a precious angel-child such as yourself…"

Amazingly, Anna actually laughs. It brings a smile to Daisy's face and it relieves the heck out of Booker.

"Here you go," Daisy gives her back, gently, "Watch her head…that's it…"

"Thank you," he says, more genuinely now than before. He looks down at his baby girl and loves that she's smiling now. The weight of the world seems lighter.

"She aint a fussy child. You just a clumsy daddy, is all."

Booker chuckles, nodding, "Yeah. I'll figure it out, though."

"Tell you what," she says, after a pensive pause, "I live down a few doors. She ever starts cryin like that again, you knock an I'll hold her."

"Sure thing."

Daisy leaves, down the hall, and Booker manages to open his apartment door and nudge the shopping bags into the room. Anna is sleeping now, and hopefully she'll stay that way for just enough for him to fix dinner and warm her bottle.

Columbia 1912 - Fink Manufacturing

Lamb of Columbia.

Daisy thinks this, as she's stab from behind, probably just moments away from death. Daisy can see her reflection on the glass as she stabs her - the Lamb, the girl Booker DeWitt had wanted to find.

Miss Elizabeth.

It's just a second, and a second is all it takes.

She sees the baby again. Sees the girl in her arms, crying because something inside her wasn't right exactly. Something was robbed from that baby girl.

Daisy hasn't thought about her in years. She was a housekeeper in Comstock house. She was a scapegoat.

But…for the brief moment Miss Elizabeth was in her life…she was a comfort to someone. She was comfort to the child whose mother didn't love her and whose father was a devil.

And now…she was being killed by what she once took care of. She probably doesn't even remember…how Daisy would hold her…an rock her…

Perhaps its fittin, then, that Daisy be put to death by her hands. In her last moments, Daisy remembers that once upon a time she wasn't so filled with vengeance and hate. Once upon a time she was a foolish girl to sung a baby to sleep.

Now…who wouldn't love a precious angel-child such as yourself?